A marriage ends.
He realizes all the meaning he’s taken for granted, now gone. He weeps, the image of which he immediately imagines as being sympathetic. And then, immediately after that thought (i.e. that he looks worthy of sympathy while weeping), actually during that thought, he’s disgusted. A massive loss of substance, and he’s preoccupied with his image. Reflecting further: this vanity and conceit must be why his marriage ended in the first place; what he offered was thin and presentable but not sustaining. And then, another step: if his past offers were so easily invalidated, so vain, then so is this present, supposedly sympathetic image. Cyclical self-defeat, paradox. His tears aren’t worthy of sympathy and his presentation isn’t worth worrying about, and yet he continues to cry, so his tears must be for a real loss and not vain; but he is crying as a result of his vanity.
The whole idea implodes in on itself, and he’s left lost, defeated.