Noblesse obliges, even for cuckolds

Horns? They need to be able to wear! Think big kudu. Scientific name: Tragelaphus strepsiceros. This is a specimen of an antelope native to South Africa, with corkscrew-shaped horns, sometimes more than half a meter long. Very elegant and proud, with its spectacular and choreographed horn scene, which are in fact a work of nature’s art. However, few people know that when this wonderful animal lowers its head, the tips of the horns aim exactly at the eyes of their target. With obvious consequences you can imagine. The truth is that even antlers need to be worn with style. You need to be able to wear them with class, even with honor, and this applies to both men and women. As Monsieur Swann reminds us in Recherche, horns are intangible garments to be worn and used in the midst of world trade with ease, discretion and intelligent pretense. Of course, waking up one morning and discovering that you are Bambi’s brother or sister is not the greatest pleasure. But sooner or later in life it happens to everyone or almost everyone. difference in reaction. There are those who scream and scream, those who cry at each other, those who throw clothes and watches out of the window, those who take it out on another (or other) by threatening to hit him in the teeth, those who whip themselves blame himself in betrayal and doing everything to get his partner back, there are those who swear that from today he will change, and there are those who plunge into the deepest depression because “that he has more than me “? Nothing, the answer is nothing.

Noblesse obliges, even for cuckolds

Indeed, the answer is masterfully explained in a scene from the hilarious film My Best Friend’s Wedding, when Julia Roberts says to Cameron Diaz: You are Michael, you are in a famous French restaurant and order creme brulee for dessert: it’s beautiful, it’s sweet, it’s unbearably beautiful. Suddenly Michael realizes that he doesn’t need creme brulee… no, he wants something else. What does he want instead?asks Diaz.


Jelly?! Why jelly?

Because jelly is more to his taste! Gelatin suits his tastes more, I understand that compared to creme brulee it’s just gelatin, but probably what he needs.

I can become jelly!

No, creme brulee will never be jelly, you will never be jelly!

I must become jelly!

You will never become jelly!

Here: the key to betrayal is all here. She (or he) will at some point want jelly instead of creme brulee. Simply because we are beings in constant evolution. We are changing. We change tastes, ideas, desires and priorities. And what suited us until today, most likely, will not suit us tomorrow. A bit like that wonderful red sheath dress size 42: the time comes and it comes to your desire, if it comes it doesn’t fit anymore. There comes a time, and it comes to desire, if it comes when the creme brulee that you so adored, you get bored and you want jelly. And it is absolutely useless for you, partner, to peck yourself in the jelly: you will never be one. From the series: those who are born round cannot become square.

There are those who, with surgical ruthlessness, when they recognize the cumbersome novelty that rises above their heads, are not upset one iota. At least in appearance. Because deep down he thinks about revenge, which, as you know, should be served cold. This is the case of Massimo Segre, one of the most famous bankers and professionals in Turin, also because his family has always been close to Carlo de Benedetti. And who since 2020 has been a permanent couple with Cristina Seimandi, who is also well known in the capital of Piedmont, because she is the daughter of a famous accountant who died two years ago, and above all because she is passionate about politics, into which she threw herself headlong for many years without the necessary compass. With the utmost carelessness, she moved from the 5 Star Movement to the Centre-Right as if nothing had happened. Obviously, changing one’s mind is part of his DNA. The two were there to pledge eternal love, so much so that they organized a lavish party in Sardinia to announce their imminent wedding, with the members already sent. A party with an unexpected ending. And what a surprise, wow! Because at exactly midnight or so, Segre takes the stage with his fiancée, takes the microphone and chats about her with icy equanimity in front of the 150 guests of Torino bene (all with phones, which results in a stunning video that literally drove the network crazy for nanosecond), enumerating their betrayals. First of all, one: the one with a lawyer, her current lover. “Dear Christina,” she says in general embarrassment, “I know how much you are in love with her mentally and sexually, as you had the opportunity to admit. Go with him to Mykonos. As you know, everything is paid for.” And then he romantically concludes, “The gift I give you is freedom. So I won’t marry you.” All this seems to be complete with photographic evidence frankly shown to an enthusiastic public. To which, it always seems, she even fainted. Long story short, Ridge and Brooke are giving these guys blowjobs, huh! In social networks, for such courage and composure applause, with predictable and intuitive insults against the infidels. Personally, I find it all very sad and petty. And above all, in bad taste. And also freely ferocious. Because such a public pillory puts women in a position where there is no longer any trust and security in the future, even in relation to work. This means making scorched earth around you with everything that follows, from isolation to ridicule. It means ruining her forever, tattooing the word “bitch” on her skin, turning her life into an eternal bulletin board with slanderous information and vulgar insults. Forever, without the right of appeal or oblivion. There is absolutely nothing masculine and manly about such a gesture, typical of a shark that circles over unsuspecting prey and kills it when it least expects it. Not physically, of course, because at his level, you certainly can’t compromise. But mentally and spiritually yes. I will always prefer the refined and aristocratic grace of someone who escapes from the annoying frictions of the world and, understanding everything, is silent and smiles at the inner impulses of the peasant bourgeois. Nobility obliges even cuckolds.

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