It was only two years ago that Harry walked down the aisle with Meghan: a woman who betrayed her first husband years earlier… a woman who used her own wedding to insult her father. Harry was warned well in advance, but he knew better than the rest of us. Harry was sure that he had stumbled upon a diamond in the dirt. Harry thought he was doing “something wonderful” by giving this hardened feminist slut the honorable title of wife. How quickly we come to rue our rash decisions.
Through his act of rebellion against the timeless ideals of patriarchy, Harry sent a strong message, to every fat slut in the world, that redemption was not only possible, but easy. “It is quite all right,” said Harry, “to frivolously divorce a decent man, and then spend the next few years as a Hollywood sex doll… because you too will someday be wifed up by a bona fide prince!”
Most of us have met the hot broad with the sordid history who fucks like a banshee and tells a man what he wants to hear. Only the most foolish among us would marry such a woman. Unlike most of us, Harry is still somewhat insulated. He will be able to pay this cunt an actual king’s ransom, in order to get rid of her. He will be able to hire people to look after little Archie. He will be able to do whatever he wants, even after the divorce courts take tens of millions of dollars from him. The rest of us are not, and never will be, in a comparable position. A young man who decides to get married must be smart, rather than being Harry.