I cry for what once was, and what I know never will be again. So many times I’ve tried to tell him, tried to make him understand, but he would never listen, and I know in my heart that when the money and children are no longer issues anymore, when that day comes, that I’ll be moving on. Being alone is a better fate than dealing with this disappointment and resentment that I now feel everyday inside.
And I know that it’s this disappointment, hatred, and outright resentment- the same that I feel inside- that is at the heart of feminism, that is at the heart of the manosphere. If he tries to be an asshole, I scoff at him, because I know he’s not genuine; I know he’s not real. He might try to push me around, to hold me down, but I just turn my head to the side and ignore him and soon enough he gives up. Yet when he tries to be soft, I only resent him all the more for being weak. I know there’s nothing he can do anymore. I don’t even feel anything anymore but a lingering sense of a life gone wrong.
I was looking at an old picture from when I was 22 and I just wanted to cry. I remember that innocence, I remember so fondly those days when he was my everything. I read about the women and their taken in hand relationships and I cry all the more. We used to be that way. There’s this need inside that’s so undeniably real that it’s become a physical ache and taken a psychological toll on me to the extent that I don’t even know who I am anymore. I just sit down and cry. I need something, yet that something just isn’t him. And I know that if he can’t give me what I need, I’ll just end up having to find it elsewhere eventually. That’s just truth, that’s just reality.
It was once mine, being under that authority of a man who loved me, cared for me, cherished me. And I know, the laws have made it to where men can’t have authority, that men have to live in fear of ever exerting that authority, lest they all of a sudden become criminals and branded as misogynists. It makes it hard for women who need their men to be men and it makes the men of society so soft that women just resent them.
And it’s this displacement, I know, that drives the manosphere. The anger is there and very real, because there’s no real femininity. Just like my anger that that masculinity is gone. I don’t want him to be a jerk, but at the end of the day dealing with an asshole would be a better fate than having no masculinity at all. And I figure that’s what drives women to jerks, to sadomasochism lifestyles, because something has just gone so horribly wrong inside. But then it just breeds more brokenness, more emptiness and the cycle just never ends. It’s vicious and it’s real. He wasn’t being the man he should have been, and in turn I just became a broken woman that holds no real hope for anything in her heart.
What can I ever do? Every time in my life I’ve had issues with men it’s on account of misplaced masculinity, either on account of men not owning up to their duties and responsibilities, or because of men losing their masculinity all together. Love is hard to find, and we once had that love. But I feel nothing anymore. Pretty, sunny days bring nothing but heartache. They bring nothing but pain. They’re like a false sense of hope. Looking back at what I once had, but knowing those days are over, I join the fate of millions of others who have long ago given up.
I know I tried to ask him to be a man, to do something, but he wouldn’t. He’d never believe the words I’d say, he’d never take me seriously. I long to be cherished and loved, but not from a man who’s weaker than me, not from a man I can’t genuinely look up to.
That hurts the most, the remembrance of intimacy with a strong man who cherished and provided for me, a man who I knew wouldn’t do me wrong and up and leave me afterward or disappear.
I’m not the only woman who feels the things I feel inside, I never have been. And I don’t care what people think of me. They don’t like me anyway, so what’s to lose? And I know that it’s me, that orphan girl, always looking for a home, always looking for a place I can belong- always seeking, yet never finding.
I understand that anger, I understand that pain. Traditional women aren’t crazy, they’re content. Masculinity isn’t being a jerk, nor is it being soft. I know when he’s not genuine, and I don’t think there’s anything he can ever do to get that authenticity back. I don’t want to be used or degraded in the slightest, but loved. But when he’s lost my respect, when I no longer believe the words he says or put any faith in him anymore, then it’s over. Repairing the damage done, if it can ever even be repaired, will be a long journey.
You can never turn back the hands of time, to undo what’s already been done, to re-grant back to me what once was mine. And I know there are no other men in this society. I don’t even hope for that. I just do what other women do, which is doing for myself, just like the men of the manosphere want to go their own way because of their disappointment and distrust of today’s women, I find myself wanting to go my own way. Now many will be so glad for me if I don’t depend on a man- but I’m not glad. I’m not happy- not at all- because I can’t be feminine without a man who is correspondingly masculine.