Professional Women and their Empty Marriages
Let’s start with a quick test: pretend I just made a negative generalization about your demographic, a generalization that is obviously True to anyone who isn’t obsessed with living in Fantasy Land. What’s your response?
A) You shrug your shoulders, “Yeah, us cricket players can definitely be like that sometimes.”
B) You pulse quickens, “How dare you say such a thing about poodle owners!”
If you answered A then you’re a normal person who understands the difference between demographics and individuals, who isn’t paralyzed with fear at the thought of being criticized. If you answered B, then I have some bad news for you: you’re a useful idiot for the people who want to manufacture conflict, and profit off of the results. “Marxists” as they’re sometimes known.
This post is going to be about Women, and I dearly hope you ladies read it and give it serious consideration. I’m doing this for your own good. I’m not going to treat you like special little snowflake princesses – quite frankly, you’ve been lied to for long enough – I’m going to be harsh and brutal about your own natures. Will it hurt? A little bit – but Good God, Sheila, you’re going to give birth someday! Woman Up! Your ego can stand a bit of bruising.
But if you’re already feeling your back hair rise – “How dare a Man discuss the Female Experience!” – then start off by reading the article I’m responding to. She describes the illness gently; after that you might be ready for Aurini’s nasty, red medicine.
Aaron Clarey introduces her article, saying:
Boys, but especially ladies, I want you to pay attention to this. THIS is what you get. Could you imagine living with this woman? There would be no love, no care, no kindness. Just a constantly “Whatever you can do I can do better” vendetta competition. I cannot think of a quicker way to ruin my life than spend time with this. And don’t think that Ms. Loh is a rarity. This is common. AND don’t think it goes away when women turn 30. It merely magnifies itself to rationalize things away.
And of course he’s Right; I doubt I’d find her worthy of a one night stand, let alone a marriage. But I’m going to give her the benefit of the doubt – her article, if you can see through the cattiness, is an admission that the Feminist Model of Marriage has been an utter failure. She starts out:
Today’s women have achieved a goal that social commentators have inveighed against for centuries: economic independence. Railed The Times of London in 1868, in opposing property rights for married women: “The proposed change would totally destroy the existing relation between husband and wife.” An American letter-writer declared in 1903:
“The wife who has her own income is thereby rendered a poorer wife [and,] feeling independent of her natural protector, she becomes more critical, less lenient to his faults and failings.”
This is where you expect to hear the shrill laughter of the Sex and the City Cougar, sipping her margarita as she lambastes those ignorant White Males who didn’t know about Grrrrl Power! Doubtlessly she would have some five or ten years ago; but even the strongest hamster grows weary as it chafes against reality.
Not that it isn’t trying!
She starts off by inviting you to “a dinner party in Los Angeles. Have some white sangria and some pesto hummus—they’re from Whole Foods.” Attending the party are four divorced women, who are supposedly happy and on good terms with the Fathers of their (allegedly) successful,well adjusted children.
“To our exes,” says our hostess, Kate, lifting a glass.
“Hear, hear,” we reply, lifting ours.
All of which comes crashing down when the lone married woman, with her stay at home Kitchen Bitch, arrives late; she vents angrily about his failure to change a light-bulb.
“Well,” I say, in the sudden vibrating silence, “this is interesting. Here sit four divorced women who are okay with our exes, and one married woman furious at her husband. I wonder if part of the problem is that we have partitioned off our men’s tasks and you haven’t, because, um, what all married women maybe secretly yearn for is not one husband, but four.”
She goes on to list the four men she wants in her life: Mr. X: the financial partner (the provider), Mr. Y: the feelings guy (Beta Male orbiter), Mr. Z: The Brawny paper-towel man (the low-IQ sex provider), and Mr. Q: the cheerful intern (the twink castrado). Some feminists wish to commit gendercide, and eliminate the male sex; this one merely wants to degenerate us into our lesser forms.
The strange thing is that she doesn’t even seem to realize this.
I’m sure she’s read countless articles on how Men these days are ‘refusing to grow up’ – femspeak for ‘Man Up and Marry Those Sluts!’ In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s written a few of them herself. Yet she utterly lacks the concept of what a Real Man is – the Father, Protector, Soldier, and Husband – she demands a Real Man, but she has no idea what a Real Man is.
And you wonder why us Men of Red Blood are standing off on the sidelines, quietly working on our motorcycles, and following Gershwin’s advice that A Woman is a Sometimes Thing? She’s passing on the gold, as she collects nothing but pyrite (there’s a joke about Female Economists and fiat currency in there somewhere).
But the hamserbation eventually starts to die down; as the article closes off the poor little critter gives up in exhaustion, as she reviews the hole in her life that the Whole Food’s white sangria refuses to fill:
Further, not only do we 2012 women fail at being 1950s wives, we fail even more spectacularly at being 1950s husbands. In the Mad Men era, the archetypal dad came home; put down his briefcase; received pipe, Manhattan, roast beef, potatoes, key-lime pie; and was—apparently—content. By contrast, dwelling in a grayscale midlife purgatory of grinding Pilates and ever-shifting diets (Atkins? Zone? South Beach?), if we breadwinning women were handed a Manhattan at the end of the day, we’d be likely to burst into tears and wail, “What’s THIS? What’s IN this? Why are you UNDERMINING me?!” We 21st-century female monsters are used to fussy bistros featuring spa cuisine and quinoa and dressing on the side. These husband-cooks whom Mundy lauds, however, want to make us some risotto (too carby) even while we are curled up in the fetal position, sucking in our ever-present potbellies (which the 1950s Dad didn’t worry about), dreaming desperately of a Manwich.
I believe it was Dr. L Bizkit who first observed “Heavy is the head that wears the crown.”
I’m sorry to say it, ladies; to quote the Doctor, “You think that everybody is the same,” but you’re just not constitutionally set up to the Man in the relationship.
She begins to edge up on the Truth…
It’s nature’s way—children have to be cute for 18 years (an unusually long span, in the mammalian world) so parents are motivated to shoulder their care;
And then projects her own moral failings onto masculinity:
And an excess of money, whether it’s the male or the female who has it, makes a monster of us all—or at least makes one less inclined to endure the cumbersome ordinariness of other people. Cue Charlie Sheen, and his serially dispensable goddesses.
There she goes again, mistaking an Omega Degenerate like Charlie Sheen for True Masculinity. She admits to her own internal monstrosity, and as such she’s only attracted to those as monstrous as herself. To quote No Ma’am:
There is a hierarchy in how our society “works.” It looks like this:
God/Truth –> Man –> Woman –> Children –> Puppies
The Charlie Sheens, Bad Boy Bikers, and Drug Dealers of this world are users; the Real Men are the lovers and protectors of women. Ladies, think about how much you love children – yet how willing children are to turn on their parents. We don’t even need to go so far as Soviet Russia, just think of the teenage rebellion , the child’s indifference to the pain they cause their parents.
Us Men love you in exactly the same way; that’s why for generations we’ve sweated in the coal mines and bled on the battlefields to keep you safe.
Feminism fed you a disastrous lie – they promised you all the supposed privileges that came with being a Man, while never telling you about the heavy burdens which came along with it. They told you that Men were just as capricious as you with our Love, when nothing could be further from the Truth. They drove a wedge between our two genders; made you ashamed of your Womanly Strength, Empowered you into positions you weren’t suited for, while turning Men into simpering, pale shadows of what they once were.
We don’t have Husbands in our culture any more; what we have is male wives, and lesbianized relationships.
Empowerment turns you into a caricature; your True Strength as a Woman is in supporting and driving Masculine Achievement through your Love. It’s too late for Sandra Tsing Loh – her final line, “men of the future, here’s a handy tip: continue to work on your dancing” is an obvious metaphor for sex, but as she ages her looks will fade, the sex will disappear, and her only love will come from her cats.
You young women of today have a choice: become cherished wives with a Masculine Husband you support – or a sex object in your twenties, a lesbian in your thirties, and an Old Maid in your dotage.
The ball’s in your court.