All posts by B. A. Hunter (The Radical One)

About B. A. Hunter (The Radical One)

It’s Not About the Housework

If there’s one thing that people just never seem to understand, it would be that me being at home for all of these years has nothing at all to do with housework. Whether I spend 5 minutes or 6 hours a day doing housework is completely irrelevant. You always see people attempting to justify the position of “stay at home mothers” by means of what money they might make doing the same jobs outside of the home. They’ll say things like “stay at home mothers spend x amount of time washing dishes” or “x amount of time running the kids to school and x amount of time cooking and sweeping floors,” and etc…etc…etc… But what is never mentioned is that women working has nothing to do with housework but everything to do with independence from men.

I cry all the time at work, but not because I “don’t want to work.” It has nothing to do with that. I could get on my hands and knees and scrub my house from top to bottom, and while I might complain about the work itself, I would be happy. I would be happy because I was doing something that was worthwhile. Sweeping my own home and doing the dishes and scrubbing down the bathroom and doing the laundry for my own household has value and merit. I’m “going somewhere” when I do those things even if I do them day in and day out. What is the value and purpose of me doing those things outside of the home? If I was a man it might have more value and merit because it would enable me to move up in the world, have power and independence and provide for a family or something. But I’m not a man, nor do I want to be a man. I don’t want to be “powerful.” In fact, it’s quite the opposite. I’ve always felt happier being powerless.

When I was younger I loved working. I loved going out and making money and having independence. But that all changed once I became a wife and mother. After I became a wife and mother I began to break down in tears (the same as I’m doing right now, even after all these years) at the very thought of going out and making my own money. It’s not because I’m somehow “lazy” or any sort of bullshit like that. It’s because I feel the femininity inside of me. It’s because I don’t want to be independent. I wanted to be feminine and nurturing, depending on a man and having my sexuality belonging only to one man.

They push the two-income model of families on all of us because they don’t want women to be dependent on men, and that’s what it’s all about. If women went home, then men could control women via money and the regulation of women’s sexuality by making women dependent on men. Me being home all of these years has never been about housework, it’s been about me depending on a husband to care for me, and me having paid employment of any kind (even part-time) destroys all of that, and that is why women have to work in our society. That is why it is pushed on us. Because if women didn’t work, especially after marriage, then feminism couldn’t exist.

I wouldn’t mind making less than a man, if I knew that it was generally accepted and understood by society that men were supposed to be taking care of women. Not at all. I don’t want to be any man’s “equal,” and I would never want to be in a position of power where I was some man’s boss or anything. It wouldn’t feel right. The first thing that happens when I’ve ever been attracted to a man is that I feel like I want to submit to him, to be taken care of by him, like I’m safe with him and don’t have anything to worry about. It’s just this natural instinct that I feel when I feel that polarity and attraction. I don’t want to be independent. That’s why I never went out and worked, and that’s why the thought of working sickens me and makes me cry my eyes out. Because I feel it, I feel it so deeply inside of me, that femininity, as if it determines everything about me- and I love it.

And more power does mean more responsibility, but that’s part of being a man. Women hand over a great deal of rights to be taken care of and provided for, and are usually happier for it. It’s pathetic that the men of our society would send their wives out into the workforce to help provide for the family. What kind of a man would do such a thing? Apparently not much of one given how emasculated the men of society are today. A man should feel like an utter failure, like he has lost a part of his masculinity, by needing the “help” of a woman, especially his own wife and mother of his children, to help provide for him or his family. Any man that would expect his wife to be out in the workforce should be beat- and that’s the truth. Why would any man want to send his wife out there like that??

That’s what it’s all about. And I would really like to understand why on earth paid employment is always supposed to be the cure for boredom? I don’t see anybody in the workforce except for the biggest losers in history not being able to find something to do when they aren’t working. When I’m not busy with housework or errands I simply find something else I like doing, which is the same thing anybody else does after work. How is this even an issue?

Also, me marrying young and having no income or independence of my own has protected me. It’s forced me to stay under the authority of one man and kept my family intact and prevented me from having all kinds of failed relationships and multiple sexual partners, not to mention the “blended family” where people have children from different fathers/mothers. I’m as old as I am now having only slept with my husband. If I had been an independent woman or had waited until later in life to get married (even if I only waited until my mid-20s or something) that probably wouldn’t be the case. Therefore my innocence and femininity was protected, and I was protected. I always took my sexuality very serious and still do. I can’t imagine allowing any man but the most important and beloved to penetrate me! Dear God, how can that be casual???

So yeah, I cry my fucking eyes out because of paid employment, but it’s not because i’m lazy or anything of the sort, and I won’t be told that by anybody. I did take on a part-time job that I do like. It’s simple and laid back and I might stay there just as a way of having a little bit of spending/saving money. But even then the woman training me today was giving us advice on how not to get bored!!! But I still stopped by at my husband’s work and sat in the parking lot crying my eyes out outside of the shop. He came out to my car and held me for a minute and told me to call the place I had been working and tell them that I wouldn’t be coming back.

And no, I don’t want to go back, but I am for a week or two because I promised the owner I would be there when she needed me for the next couple of weeks. I wasn’t just going to walk out on her. I’m keeping a promise (something some people in this world are still honorable enough to do) even though it’s killing me. After that I will probably keep my other small part time job (only about 24 hours a week) because it’s more laid back and fun, and a place I’m familiar with and close to home. I know that working was a mistake, but in some ways I guess it was a lesson I had to learn. I just don’t have that drive of independence and probably never will have.

I Don’t Care About Money

I came home Sunday with plentiful money from work, but I didn’t care. I did nothing but cry the entire way home, in fact. I didn’t care about the money at all, because it’s not like it was making me happy. My first thought was to come home and throw all the cash to the wind. Within only a few days of having paid employment I’ve been able to put a lot of money back in savings, and while it’s nice to have, I really don’t like it.

We live in this world that tells women to go out and work and be independent. It amazes me as much as it sickens me the way our society is. It isn’t even thought that a man should be providing for his wife or that men should take care of women. Just suggest such a thing, and you have a mental disorder. Just suggest there are differences between men and women or that men should provide and you could start a damned riot (it’s happened).

If you look at family law, it makes no distinctions between sex. Instead of marriage being seen as an institution for men to provide for and protect women and children, it’s some genderless institution now were spouses provide for *each other.* The whole idea of marriage being about us providing for each other just makes me feel kind of sick. It makes me lose respect for marriage, for men, for society. Most people just cohabit these days, proving all the more that marriage has lost the deeper meaning that it once had and anyone who truly believes it has nothing to do with women having careers is retarded.

I know what I’ve always felt, that I wanted to bond with a man who would provide for me and take care of me. My senses are very dulled now. In some ways me going out and taking on paid employment (for the first time EVER in our marriage, and we’ve been married since I was practically a teenager) has helped the marriage because it’s confirmed what I’ve always felt in my heart and it’s made my husband become angry and want all the more to get up and stop acting like a wimp the way he had been acting. It’s also worth noting that I only took on paid employment to separate from him, lending further credit to the claim that women having careers is damaging relations between men and women and undermining the true meaning of marriage.

People look at me strange that I would be as old as I am with no career and little to no work experience. The good news for me is that everyone unanimously thought I was no older than 19 or 20 years old (my employer even asked if I was old enough to be serving alcohol over the phone (she didn’t have my app in front of her at the time to see my real age)).

Nobody believes I’m truly as old as I am, which also confirms that living a traditional lifestyle has preserved my youth, preserved my innocence and beauty and kept me more feminine. (It’s probably one of the best anti-aging secrets ever. Just be feminine, just be happy and joyful and full of love, depending on a man and admiring men in general and focusing on keeping fit and feminine and doing housework and helping your man and being there for him).

Guess what? I don’t care what people think. I feel no shame in not having had a career. If they reject me for that, it’s their problem. I don’t care what my mother or anyone else in the world thinks. I don’t want to live the way they do and have the disastrous relationships they’ve always had. I’m much happier being feminine. I take pride in NOT being a career woman. If anyone asks me I’ll simply tell them that I never believed women should really be out there working. We’re women, there’s no shame in being weak, or even unsuccessful for that matter. Being docile, being weaker, depending on a man, being soft and receptive are all feminine traits, and they are nothing to be ashamed of.

I think it’s better if us girls marry real young and stay under the protection and authority of a husband. It PROTECTS us. It keeps you from getting hurt by other men or swayed and it keeps women from running wild to their detriment and the detriment of families and children.

Is there really a better life to be had otherwise? So what if you marry real young and have a kid or two young and stay home? Are women really much happier screwing around and wasting their youth and beauty on men who don’t deserve them, don’t cherish or provide for them while they go pursue some meaningless career that won’t amount to anything true and real in the end?

While everyone likes and needs money, after a certain point, once your basic needs are met and you are comfortable, more money won’t make you any happier. Is the point of life really to make a six-figure salary especially when as a woman it’s not going to do anything for your sexuality or better your chances with anything other than some “weak” man who wouldn’t cherish you as a woman, for everything feminine and unique about you? And as a woman do you really want a man that needs or wants your money? A man who isn’t strong enough to provide for you or protect you, both from immediate danger and from the harshness of the world (which includes the burden of working out of the home)?

Yes, I have a paying job right now, but I don’t like the idea of it. Our daughter is moving into her preteen years (almost) so the burden of childcare isn’t what it once was, but just the simple fact that I have my own money means I don’t NEED my husband to provide. Yes, he provides for me still fully, but it feels more like I’m simply letting him do it, instead of truly relying on him and needing him to do it. I also know that I’m still needed at home. Who cares what the world thinks, a woman’s husband is supposed to be her authority. If she keeps the home and stays there, she only focuses on him. What others think doesn’t matter.

I get depressed at work. Thoughts keep running through my head that I should just go home and focus on the house and just be what I’ve always been, which is simply a wife and mother. I figure for now I’ll stay there as I’ve made friends and feel like I have a home away from home. I don’t know. I just figure I’ll stay unless or until they want to let me go or something happens in life where I know it’s truly time to quit and come home.

My husband does not like me working and does want me to come home. I’m not sure if I’m ready to come home though. I just don’t know. This is all very hard for me and very new. I just want to be the feminine woman I once was, keeping the home and loving my family with the same childlike innocence and demeanor that I always have, unconcerned about the outside world. I don’t care about independence. I don’t care about equal pay or any of the mainstream women’s rights bullshit. And I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks of me. Their comments about me “getting a job” will not sway me, because I know who I am as a woman. As odd as it might seem, I don’t get into those kinds of conversations. There is no need. I just simply smile if anyone ever makes a comment about me having a career. I just simply let my femininity shine through and speak for itself. And trust me, men really don’t give a shit about your career, but they do care about your femininity.

Stop Doing the Dishes

For years I sat and watched as he failed. I tried and tried to support him in everything that he would do, yet grew more disheartened every time. When a man fails to lead, it’s pretty much the end of everything. He loses the woman’s trust and respect and his family disintegrates.

He thinks he could win over my affections by doing the dishes for me, cooking, or trying to act cool or something, but he doesn’t realize that I’m only repulsed by all of this. He sat and did nothing while I grew physically and mentally ill. I lost a bunch of hair, I became underweight and malnourished (I’m still borderline underweight, but that’s mostly due to high levels of physical activity that kept me from re-gaining, not sickness) and became so mentally distressed that I could barely function in day-to-day life. When I wanted him to get up and be a man, he instead sat down and became what I can only define as a pussyfied beta wimp. It’s like he completely missed that look of pleading and disgust in my eyes. I even told him to do something (about me actually) but he wouldn’t.

For a woman to lead, provide for, or protect a man is a violation of everything natural and right in the universe. As I’ve said for many years, there seems to be two worlds- the world of the internet and the real world. I was talking to a man last night (he honestly thought I was 19 years old, I told him he was my new favorite person). He, like you see so many men doing in the manosphere, was divorced and swore he’d never go back down that road and make that “mistake” again- yet he’s going to. That’s what happens when you love someone. He’s waiting on her right now to marry her, though personal circumstances are keeping them apart. He said to me that you don’t know how hard that situation is, and I hope you never find out (the particular circumstances being pretty bad). Of course, nobody knows about my personal life there. I keep it hidden in obscurity. They don’t know why I’m really there.

A man’s top priority should be to do what’s best for his family, even in difficult circumstances, but my husband never could do that. I came back to him, I gave him chances, yet he failed. And I know he failed because of cowardice. I’ve seen him do this so many times, forgoing jobs because of fear of having to travel or something, then making up excuses as to why we must stay in our current situation or giving me some bullshit line about why he didn’t get the job (it was their fault…I put option “c” and they didn’t like it). As many women know, it’s a letdown when a man fails to be a man. He chose to keep us in the same situation, even if it meant losing his wife and having his family torn apart. He chose to stay in his comfort zone instead of taking his family and going elsewhere or doing whatever else needed to be done.

I came home from work last night and he had done the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen (even though I had cleaned earlier in the day). I was absolutely repulsed. I hated him for it. I want a man, not a housemaid. It’s one thing for him to help out when I was sick, but if he thought I wanted him to split chores with me (he doesn’t expect me to pay the bills, I put all my money in savings for if I should need it) he was sorely mistaken. Not that telling him any of that would help. He doesn’t get it. He never has.

Nor would he ever pay attention when I tried to tell him what I needed and wanted, or ever pay attention to me much at all. I asked him to take me out once and all he said was “where do you want me to take you?” in an assholish way. I just cried and ran off, miserable and lonely. Last night he wrote on a piece of paper living expenses if we were to move, then came into the kitchen and put the piece of paper down on the table in front of me. I tore it up and threw it at him, telling him to get the **** out of my sight. I try to tell him of my pain and my needs and that he hasn’t been taking care of me and he always blows up at me for it, then puts all the blame on me for everything. He says he doesn’t understand me. I told him perhaps if he paid half as much attention to me as ************* did then maybe he might.

He becomes angry and belligerent when I point out that he has failed. If he becomes too angry, he grabs me by the neck and yells at me or holds me down. I scream at him to let me go, to get off of me, to which his only response is to yell at me to calm down and practically spitting in my face. It’s a horrible thing to feel trapped like that, with no option to get away and nobody that would ever help you or care for you. I know he gets angry like that because what I say is true. He even said himself that he has no excuses.

A man is supposed to lead, to protect, to be competent, yet I find myself writing essays for him for classes and telling him how to accurately spell words. He sees me suffering and being mentally abused and even harassed when I do simple things like even driving down the driveway, yet he could never remove us from the situation.

And I say all this not to vent, but to tell women- especially younger women- to be careful who you love (and yes I did love him). Be even more careful who you choose to have children with. I know I shouldn’t have come back to him, but I did. I gave him another chance. He made promises to change the situation and he failed- again. But I knew he would fail. I was only a teenager when we met. The truth was that he was a loser. He wasn’t smart or even cool (even he’ll tell you that much). But I didn’t know it. I was young and naïve, not realizing the power of what I had as a female between my legs and giving it away for little to nothing in return. When it was all said and done, I didn’t even want him anymore. But by that time I had locked myself down with a child and it was too late for me.

Especially young men, they will run girls into the ground and make themselves seem unattainable and like they’re something great, because they want what the girls have, and they’re doing what they think will allow them to get it. (Don’t believe it? Listen to any rap song, read the endless obsession on every site geared towards men out there and see how highly they strive for sex and affection from women.) In reality, they’re nothing special. It’s all a bargaining strategy; never let the other person know that what they have is something you really need or want because then they could demand a higher price for it (because you want it, and they have it, giving them the upper hand). In this case, for the girls, it would be a committed relationship or other forms of romance and love.

I stayed because of my daughter. I would still always hope his family could continue to be family to me even if I’m no longer with my husband, and I want my daughter to have the life growing up I never had. I would never take her from here because she deserves to have family. My mother’s relatives use the excuse that “we’re her family too.” I tell them that it’s just too bad. I will never live down there unless forced by circumstances and neither will my daughter. If they wanted to be family, they should have stuck around. They made their own choices.

But patriarchy is a good system, even if individual men might be evil or misguided. It’s supposed to be about children, family, and deeper bonding between men and women through commitment. But sometimes separation is necessary. Circumstances forced me to go out and make my own money. I don’t know if I’d ever be with another man or not, but I do wish to be. If a man does truly love a woman he wants to provide for her and protect her. There are good men out there and traditional men too, and working I get to see that, to see men who don’t think being a man means being abusive. Many of them are still chivalrous too, so long as the woman is receptive to it and willing to be led.

Perhaps one day I’ll be a housewife again fully. The deepest fulfillment is in bonding with a man. I don’t seek agency or independence. I’d rather give that up to depend on a man and follow his lead. But for now, I face heartbreak and pain. But I’ll always be that advocate for the traditional girl. Never fear, I’m not going anywhere.

I Know What You’re Searching For

Below is some data I’ve collected over the last couple of DAYS from Amazon. Granted, it’s a small piece of the pie, true, and a small number compared to other results I get, but the simple fact is that political correctness obviously isn’t suiting everyone just fine. People (women in this case, I’m sure) are seeking, hoping to find something that progressives and feminists haven’t stamped out completely.

Just to make it clear, I HATE writing. I’ve tried to quit before but nature won’t let me. If I need to have an in-depth talk with someone, I write letters. If I get depressed or have something on my heart, I write a blog post. If I get really depressed (or on a soapbox or something), I write a whole novel. Not that I like what I write. To be honest, I hate everything I’ve ever written. My first reaction when I read old blog postings of mine is, “I didn’t do it! I swear!” I also try to forget about my books. I’ve often wished the manuscripts to both of them would just burn in hell. I’ve also entertained fantasies of raising the prices to something extreme so that maybe nobody will read it (I resisted that impulse, however).

But, alas, what’s done is done. I think everything I write sucks, big time. I avoid reading after all the editing is done (which is generally about two weeks after publishing, as there’s always some typo or inconsistency overlooked). I don’t like what I write. I don’t like reading it and I don’t think anyone else should either sometimes. It’s tough. I don’t do it to get rich, as few writers are rich. I do it because nature leaves me no other choice. I know I’m not alone, as even famous writers hate their work. I don’t think I’m great or even good- just passionate.

In a sea of political correctness, I wanted a different voice. Not everyone is going to like that voice, of course, but I do see there’s a lot of people out there searching for that voice nonetheless. One day somebody is telling me how awful of a person I am and the next someone is telling me I’m their personal hero. I don’t care. I do like hearing from fans though. It makes it seem like I’m not alone in this world, after all.

I get so sick of romance novels that are always the same. The hero is normally an ass, the heroine normally some headstrong rich girl with feminist dreams living in some castle and the novels are always consisting of them arguing back and forth with each other until finally, in the end, they realize they really DO love each other and live happily ever after. Also, they are set in some remote location that I have no connection to. I got so bored of historical romance because it always follows the same scheme and contemporary romance is usually just the same politically correct BS. Heroes have to be feminist.

Well, enough of that. I longed to create something entirely different and so I put the conflict elsewhere- in general life situations. So you say, who the hell writes a romance novel set in the hills? Well, I guess I do. When I set out to write, I have no outline. I just write, allowing the characters to be and transform into who they will, and by the time I get a second draft they have a heart and soul, so to speak. And I love first-person because I can live, feel, and breathe what it is I’m writing (and it keeps me from having to delve into the minds of the male characters in the story on top of feeling like a newspaper reporter).

I don’t know if I’m really writing romance. I think my heart is too dark for that, even though I’m romantic at heart. I don’t give you that perfect happily ever after, because it would be a denial of what’s in my own heart and the conflict that constantly resides within. If I don’t write what’s in my heart, then why do it at all? If I wanted popularity I’d write some fluffy stuff and have a female empowerment girl-power blog.

The last (and possibly even final for all I know) book is fiction, and I left the time period a bit vague so that I can get away with more imaginative stuff, like lighting by oil lamps, yet everyone can still afford to have motor vehicles and other stuff, like smoking cigarettes in the school parking lot and marrying at a young age, (which still happens today too, by the way).

Speaking of marrying young, it’s funny how young people can be drinking, have babies and sex and all that good stuff young and that’s OK, so long as you go on to have independent lives and don’t get married or anything too serious (at least before the age of like 35). But marriage? Please…

And funny how we can have kink where one can be gagged and choked and all kinds of stuff, yet we can’t have good old-fashioned love. Male dominance is fine, so long as it’s a game. But lo and behold a hero just being a man and doing sexist stuff, like protecting a woman (damsel in distress (an obvious mental disorder), setting feminism back 1,000 years, terrible stuff like that) or exerting some kind of legitimate authority over a woman he’s trying to take care of.

Don’t come here if you want politically correct. You won’t find kink in anything I write, on this blog or elsewhere, only good old-fashioned misogyny. I’m not going to apologize for that. You were warned with labels like “bodice-ripper”(and the big glaring headline on the blog that says “anti-feminist” and “pro-patriarchy”) and stuff like that (and nobody seemed to be too put off by it, judging by the number of downloads and the like I got the first couple of days). I don’t know if it even fits that label either to be honest. I don’t really like labels such as that (“bodice-ripper”), but it draws people in because it lets them know that I’ve got that old-skool stuff that they started censoring in the 1990s or somewhere along in there.

I’m tired of hearing people apologizing for traditional beliefs. That’s the one great thing about the modern world, that those such as myself and others can have a voice that would otherwise be censored.

And I don’t know how many people are truly out there reading and watching, but I know there’s a lot more than I ever thought there would be. And I only wonder why? I’m just some simple nobody from the country that goes barefoot 98% of the time. I’ll never be or have what most do. That’s not me. It amazes me that anyone would want to read anything that I write, but just know that I’m glad you do. I’m just a normal, simple girl, writing what’s already written on my heart and soul.

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.