Monthly Archives: March 2017

When It’s Over

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.

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A Woman Needs A Man’s Masculinity/ Random Rant

But you don’t understand these things that my soul longs for and needs on the inside. I could pull a million creative ideas out of my head, but I could never pull this sorrow from my heart…

I could write a million poems and novels that tell you of my heart, that tell you of my frustrations and my pain, but it will never cure me…

If you listen to those MRA types they’ll tell you that us women don’t want love and affection, yet we do.

I know what I need within my heart, to depend on a man to care of me. It doesn’t make me some gold-digger. It’s all in the motives. It’s only when I stop relying on him and stopping wanting him to provide for me that he should know something is wrong.

When I want and insist on doing for myself then he should know something is wrong.

When we walk down the street, and I don’t feel the need to hold onto him the way I used to; when my hands stay in my pockets instead of clutching onto his arm, then I’m not bonded to him anymore; I don’t need or want or even feel him anymore.

Providing for a woman doesn’t make a man weak, instead it is just the opposite. For years and years I looked up to my own husband, like he was everything. I never made my own money, I never cared for any life at all outside of my family. The fact that he provided for me meant that I needed him, and also that he held a power over me, which is something I always needed and wanted to feel. Do him wrong? “Divorce Rape?” I’ve never been powerful enough to do that even if I wanted to. And how could I take the kids if I’m depending on him just the same as they are???

I was very tame in my memoir, mostly because those in it are still alive. But I know my mother looked at me like I had some mental disorder because I don’t have some career, my grandmother’s always like “YOU DON’T NEED A MAN LIKE OMG! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?”. My stepdad thinks the worst thing a man could do is to try and control a woman and thinks women should be INDEPENDENT and how dare them think a man should take care of them or support them (like, why would I want to support you, bitch?), yet he ends up with gold diggers bitches whores lovely feminine women like my own mother and his ex-wife who would screw him over with divorce rape and child support in a heartbeat, when traditionalist women don’t do those things, mostly because we CAN’T and we don’t believe in those kinds of things anyway. We’re the ones who believe in things like patriarchy and father custody (which is a part of patriarchy, a huge part of it) because we believe our men should be providing for our needs and taking care of us, because we don’t want to be independent women who do for ourselves and fight on the frontlines alongside the men. We want to be taken care of. We’re softer and less take-charge, though I’ve said it a million times, we are NOT DOORMATS.

But I say this- Direct that power in a way that protects me, that honors me, that cherishes me for now and always.

No, I don’t like it if he’s weak. It seems to do something to me inside- it seems to hurt my heart, because a weak man can’t give to a woman what she needs. Not that he can’t be weak at times. I’ve cared for him when he’s been injured, when he’s been down, the same as he has for me. A man can’t go around pretending there’s times when he’s not vulnerable, because that’s not reality, and we can connect the deepest sometimes when we are at our most vulnerable, because you trust that other person with all your heart and soul, with everything that you have and everything that you are.

You know, when I first heard a few years back that only like 20% of women actually orgasm through intercourse alone I thought it was a JOKE, but apparently it’s not. I was like, “Huh? I didn’t know there was any other way..?”

I guess I could tell the world that I could never have it any other way except for the way it’s meant to be naturally (Vibrators? What the hell are those, anyway?), and I can do that because I feel something inside, something feminine. While some women can’t get off once, I’m capable of it multiple times. Oops, yeah, you read that right. Us traditionalist girls do have a naughty side to us, too.

I think part of that is because as a woman I feel something so much more deeper sexually, with that capability to carry life inside of me (even if I don’t want to have more kids, just knowing I have that ability as a female) and to be able to take a man inside of me, gives sex a much more deeper meaning. It’s hard to explain, and I do honestly believe that I can feel and experience much more sexually than what a man ever could, that that is one way in which I, as a female, am superior in some way, but he’s superior in other ways and I love to admire that superiority, just the way that I’m sure that any masculine man who loves women admires those sexual parts of being female in which we are superior, like the ability to bring life into the world- something that men can’t do.

I want a man to be masculine, to be stronger, superior, etc… because something inside of me needs to depend upon him. I feel unhappy and a bit displaced otherwise, like nothing in life suddenly makes sense anymore. It’s kind of depressing, like I could look at him and say, “What’s wrong with you?? Don’t you get it?? Hello???” No, I don’t want you to treat me wrong or do me wrong, but I need you to grab me and tell me what I should be doing, or tell me that everything’s alright, because it’s not. It’s not alright.

Masculinity shouldn’t equate to being a huge jerk who has no honor. As I said, needing to feel a man’s masculinity as a woman means I need to depend on him, and you can’t depend on a huge jerk who you can’t trust who goes around playing women to get them in bed. No woman wants that, not truly. It’s not what she feels deep within her heart.

It’s when I’m trying to do for myself, that he’ll know I’m trying to distance myself from him, but I don’t want it that way. The masculine and the feminine are meant to go together, as one. We were made for each other and the feminists, masculinists MHRM, MRM, MRAs, MGTOWS, and on and on and INSERT RANDOM NAME HERE FOR THE NEXT GROUP OF LOSERS WHO PROBABLY NEVER GET LAID WHO CLAIM TO WANT NOTHING TO DO WITH MODERN WESTERN WOMEN  can’t change the fact that men and women still need each other and actually WANT to be with each other.

Stillwater (New Novel)

“No balanced person writes a novel. You sit down at the desk, shackle your mind to the project, wade into an imaginary swamp with made-up people. For days. Weeks. Sometimes even years. That’s ******* batty.” (source)

In that spirit, allow me to present…

 

A passionate and romantic mid-century bodice-ripper style historical romance drama, Stillwater is the story of Jessica Delany, who, after finding herself orphaned and alone at the mere age of fourteen, flees her hometown of Mississippi, heading for the hills and mountains of Arkansas, where she works and makes it on her own, accepting the marriage proposal of Joseph Kingsman, whom she loves dearly. But when an unfortunate accident several months later leaves her pregnant and alone, she accepts the marriage proposal of local farmer’s son Tommy Hartshorne, only to find herself trapped in a loveless and passionless marriage, beginning an affair with her ex brother-in-law that culminates in death and betrayal after a judge denies her petition for divorce.

Available Now On Amazon

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XJZC158