Oh, I love this stuff.
When women are equal, all men will be castrated and scattered to the four winds! Women’s equality means all men will be dominated and suffer terribly in obscurity!
You know, just cause you’re an insecure asshole doesn’t mean that’s what everybody should be.
At a dinner party recently, I encountered the depressingly familiar sight of a dynamic thirty- something woman accompanied by a nerdy male sidekick that she’d browbeaten into proposing to her.
Which, of course, would be the only way a “dynamic” woman would have been able to get a man to propose to her, particulary if she was “thirty-something.” She had to beat him into submission.
The mismatch in power was obvious. She was successful, ambitious and confident; he was a diffident, overweight, shrinking violet who measured every word he spoke in case he said anything remotely contentious that might offend her.
If you switch their genders, however, you would have seen how much more “natural” a situation that was! Every good man should be the dominating one. Every good woman the shrinking violet.
Equality? Partnerships? I’m sorry, egalitarian relationship? That isn’t in our author’s vocabulary. If two people are fucking, only one of them can get fucked, apparently.
On her wedding finger was the most enormous, glittering engagement ring. A mutual friend later told me she’d initially been presented with a less garish but more exquisite diamond but had told her fiancÈ to return it to the shop and get her something bigger.
Seeings as she probably paid for most of it, I don’t know that I’d complain about that. Maybe he worked closer to the jewelry store. In any case, everyone knows that the ring a woman wears has gotta be solely picked out and bought by the man, without the woman’s input at all, before, during, or after. That would be the natural, proper thing to do.
That huge diamond was his declaration of surrender in the sex war. But I didn’t feel sorry for the stupid sap; he should have been man enough to tell her to get lost and find some other dummy.
Instead, he’d been sucker-punched into a lifetime of nagging and neglect, and looking at his bossy wife-to-be parading her huge rock, I felt a shiver of pre-emptive schadenfreude.
How much better it would have been if their roles were reversed! Oh, wait, you don’t think he’s going there? Oh, dear reader, read on!
One day she’ll realise how dull and unfulfilling it is to have a man who doesn’t answer back, who offers no challenge or danger – but by then she’ll be over the hill and stuck with him for fear of being left on the shelf. Sadly, this is the state of many marriages today.
First, I resent the fact that he implies that nerdy guys are bad in bed.
Second, at this point I thought, well, you know, OK, I can see his point here. I mean, yea, who wants to be with somebody who doesn’t have a spine, male or female? Somebody they can’t argue with? Somebody who doesn’t stand up to them for what they believe?
Yes, yes, I thought, certainly that’s an understandable thing. But if so, why not argue that this unequality in relationships works both ways? I mean, sure, there are men and women who prefer passive partners, and people who prefer to be passive partners, but why not argue for true partnership? True intellectual equality?
I’m sure that’s where he’s going with this.
But the “stuck with him for fear of being left on the shelf” line should have tipped me off.
Back in the Nineties, emboldened by the successes of feminism, women sought to slay the dragon of patriarchy by turning men into ridiculous cissies who would cry with them through chick-flicks and then cook up a decent lasagne.
Slay the dragon of patriarchy! I, of course, love that line for my own reasons, but, um… the idea of feminism is not to turn men into children. God knows women spend enough time raising children.
But what’s wrong with guys who cook lasagne? And is there something wrong with guys who cry? Or women who are “dynamic”?
Slaying the dragon of patriachy isn’t about one sex “winning” over the other. It’s about.. equality. That’s the definition, you fucktard.
I’m still baffled at the idea that men shouldn’t cook lasagne, though. I mean, how will they eat??? Unless women are always supposed to cook for them? But wouldn’t that be equally unnatural? What if they’re gay? What if they’re single? What if they’re celibate and have no female friends?
And who the fuck decided that it’s up to women to take care of men? I think it insults men to assume they can’t take care of themselves and express themselves emotionally. It’s saying that men are “naturally” half-people.
Suddenly, women wanted to drive home their newfound equality by moulding men to be more like them.
Men are naturally like men. Women are naturally like women. It’s natural. Naturally.
This velvet revolution was reflected in a series of broader cultural changes. After decades of uncompromising movie heroes like Marlon Brando and Clint Eastwood, we were asked to fall for stuttering, floppy-haired fops like Hugh Grant; touchy-feely and hopelessly embarrassed around women.
Hugh Grant is a bad example, my friend. Hugh Grant is a big time playboy with incredible charisma, so that even after getting caught getting sucked off by a prostitute, hordes of women still want to date him.
If you’re arguing that Hugh Grant doesn’t get laid cause he has floppy hair, you’d be wrong.
But I digress.
No doubt at the time, millions of misguided single women thought that having a man who could feel their pain and emote for Britain was a Good Thing.
What women should want (and as a man, he KNOWS this. He KNOWS what every woman really wants) is a sloppy asshole whose idea of emoting is driving his fist into a wall before raping his wife.
Now, over a decade later, women are waking up to the fact that these men are drippy, sexless bores. The feminisation of men hasn’t produced the well-rounded uber-males women were hoping for.
Ah, so he admits such men may be well-rounded… maybe more like real people and not half-people?
But apparently, women don’t want actual men. They want fake men, the sort who are so insecure and have such a poor sense of self that they feel the only way to find some kind of identity is to perform monstrous masulinity.
Instead, women are now lumped with flabby invertebrates, little more than doormats, whom they secretly despise but are too proud to admit it.
Well, no. I think this idea that women like doormats is about as accurate as the old belief that men like doormats. I think certain men and women certainly get off on being with doormats.
In this case, our insecure young author is mistaking the issues that many SNAGs (Sensitive New-Age Guys) have to deal with. That is, how difficult it is to negotiate being a good person with being a “real man” in this culture. I mean, if you cook lasagne and cry at movies, other guys start freaking that maybe *they’ll* have to do these things in order to be desirable, and that scares the crap out of them. On the other hand, SNAGs tend to freak out around women, and yes, often, in bed.
Cause there’s still this mistaken idea that what women really find attractive are assholes.
This is not true.
Women are attracted to people who are confident. There’s nothing more maddening than an insecure guy who’s terrified in the bedroom and constantly worried about what you think of him, since it’s how he gauges his self-worth, and you find yourself getting hammered three times a day with questions like: “Are you all right? Is everything all right? Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong? Are you all right? What’s wrong with me? Do you hate me? Are you sure you’re OK?”
We all have our bad days. But when this is the entirety of the relationship, the person you’re with is going to get really exhausted really quickly, and when you breakup with him, the guy will throw up his hands and proclaim that women just aren’t attracted to “nice guys.”
And then assholes like this fucknut feel vindicated, and we end up with bullshit articles like this one.
Rather than partnership, professional women tend to seek dominance in a relationship. They map their lives out early on and pursue their dream of ‘having it all’ with cold-blooded ruthlessness.
Well, no. Women don’t seek dominance in a relationship any more than men do. All those men making 100K a year and more who marry their secretaries, admins, and flight attendants?
Totally not seeking dominance at all. Not terrified or insecure at all.
Young women have a crystal-clear agenda: they want the career, the wardrobe, the smartly furnished house, the 4×4 and the cute kids they’ll ferry in it to expensive schools. No man is going to get in their way; and the men they choose for themselves are pliant and feeble enough to facilitate that programme.
And… reverse those genders again, and we’re *not* seeing men with the same idea? Advertising for appropriately pretty but docile mates?
Concentrating so much energy on work and family matters requires these women to pick a man who is predictable and secure, who won’t upset the apple cart by pursuing dreams and instincts of his own.
Ah, yes. Another either/or argument. Two people can’t be in a relationship and both pursue their dreams.
If this was really true, I’d give up dating forever.
And if this was really true, who the fuck could blame a woman looking for someone who wanted to keep the home fires burning while she worked as Secretary of State? And what’s wrong with a man who wants to keep the fires burning?
Men have been doing this sort of mate-shopping for years, and we called it “natural.”
These are cardboard cut-out men who gush with empathy whenever their wives and girlfriends need to dump their professional stresses and female angst on them: weak and soulless men who haven’t the guts to make a mark themselves, who take the passenger seat in their women’s juggernaut journey to post-feminist Nirvana.
Take note, women: if you’ve got a male partner and he ever listens to you, he has no soul.
But having ticked off the various items on their life checklist, women are left with a nagging sense of dissatisfaction. Where was the drama? Where was the passion? Where was the stimulation and growth?
Absolutely! This could only really be achieved in a partnership of equals, right?
Wouldn’t it be great if that’s where this was going?
A true Amazon couldn’t stand the company of a supplicant male, let alone marry one. Real alpha-women are the ones who can more than hold their own with an alpha-man.
Where does this leave all the betas? Let alone the gammas?
Deep down, women love men who stand up to them, who won’t be pushed around. They love men who will look them in the eye and tell them to shut up when their hormonal bickering has become too much.
Ummmm… OK, wait a minute. You had me until “shut” and “hormonal bickering.” Is this supposed to be satire?
Cause if I was arguing with some guy and he said I was engaging in “hormonal bickering” not only would he not be getting laid, I don’t think I’d actually speak to him again.
But hey, whatever does it for you.
They love men who will draw a line in the sand and walk out on them when they’ve had enough. They love men who know their own minds and are man enough to stick to their guns.
Confidence, yes… confidence is great. But I’m still hearing “tell me to shut up” and “hormonal bickering.”
I’m always telling my wife, the writer Liz Jones, to shut up. She gets into a prissy huff about it, but I know she respects me for not indulging her neuroticism. Long ago, I realised it is unhealthy for a man to embroil himself in arguments with women.
Women aren’t smart enough to be worth arguing with. They’re a bunch of hormonal cunts.
Ah, here it is!
While men want an argument to make sense and have a rational conclusion, women solely want the argument itself: it’s a pressure valve for their emotions, and once they get started there is no stopping them.
Men are always logical and rational. Women are crazy.
Ever since I forced my wife to get her uterus taken out, she hasn’t had the gall to be hysterical!
And I found my penis!
I have a very low boredom threshold; I can’t bear having protracted discussions about where my wife and I ‘are going’. Nor can I bear to listen to the gossipy, highly detailed ‘He said, she said’ monologues that women drift into when telling you about their day.
I don’t like to “listen” to my wife. We just fuck. I have no interest in her life, her aspirations, her dreams, her desires. I’m a man, and if she doesn’t like the way I fuck her, I’ll just leave her.
I deal with these elements of the female personality with impassive indifference. People might call me a sexist pig, but I am the opposite. I love women, and I love my wife because she is brilliant and incredibly strong.
I’m not a racist. I have black friends.
I am a true feminist, because I only want to be with a powerful and capable woman. No sexist could cope with having a wife as intelligent and independent as mine.
All the other women in the world aren’t as fun to fuck. There’s no challenge. If they’re intelligent and independent, you can fuck the feminist right out of them! And think about how strong and manly that’ll make you feel!
Our relationship would never have worked had I been an effete New Man, desperately wanting to sympathise with the female condition.
Because if I actually listened to a damn word she said, I might realize she’s a real person!
My wife would have grown to loathe me for my fawning cowardice. She is a warrior and she needs to be with someone who is a match for her. Knowing the limits of what I will deal with in a relationship, I maintain my self-respect and, accordingly, gain hers.
Also, this guy’s just a bad writer.
Men are now generally terrified of women. They hold their tongues for fear of being misinterpreted as sexist; they constantly attempt to secondguess their partner in order to avoid giving offence.
Yea, cause I’m always looking for new and interesting ways to hurt and ridicule my partner. Isn’t everyone?
They preen themselves with groaning shelves full of beauty products so they won’t incur derision and scorn. They suppress their masculinity and present themselves as cuddly Mr Nice Guys, and won’t project self- confidence in case it’s regarded as unreconstructed machismo.
Personal hygiene is overrated, really. Why shower? Women like the musk of a real man!
Here’s a mind-blowing idea for you, dear writer: self-confidence doesn’t equal asshole.
This backfiring feminist conspiracy has, of course, developed hand in hand with the march of raging political correctness in Britain. The two have combined like some potent chemical reaction to explode in the faces of a generation of women who thought that a ‘moulded’ man would make for a desirable one.
I enjoy being part of a feminist conspiracy. It makes me feel all warm and squishy inside.
In recent years, men have been trained like circus seals to be inoffensive to women, and no longer know how to entice them and turn them on.
The biggest turn on I’ve ever experienced: when some asshat offended me! It’s the fastet way to a woman’s cunt.
But women secretly long for a man with swagger, who is cocky and selfassured and has the cheek to stand up them and make fun of their feminine foibles.
Only if I get to make fun of your little dick.
They long for the rakish charm of a man who knows there’s a whole ocean of fish out there, who isn’t afraid of being himself in case he is rejected.
What? Did I mention: bad writer?
The truth is, a real man doesn’t care what any woman thinks of him. He doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him: he answers solely to his spirit.
The same spirit that allows him to romp freely across the plains, raping and pillaging as he goes! With a rifle over one shoulder and blood on his mouth!
There’s nothing sexier than a violent, uncaring asshole.
Real men don’t pretend or even try to understand women.
Women aren’t actually people.
They simply love them for being the mysterious, capricious creatures that they are.
Like cats and bunnies and small forest animals.
And they don’t take them too seriously, either. They know the vicissitudes of the female mind, its constant insecurities and the fluctuations in mood.
Rather than pander to them, they simply watch them drift by like so many clouds on the horizon.
Or herds of antelope.
They don’t get entangled in a woman’s feelings and listen to her prattling on and on until she’s talked herself out.
Women hate it when you listen to them. One mustn’t show weakness in front of such a mysterious, unknowable beast. It may attack at any moment, and then you’ll find yourself buying a really big engagement ring, and then you’ll be really sorry, won’t you?
Such strong and stoic men are exactly what women need to anchor themselves amid the chaos of their emotions.
Men don’t have emotions. They have beer.
Sometimes my wife bemoans my detachment and laissez-faire attitude to our marriage and wishes I were more wrapped up in her. I tell her she would soon get bored of it, because men who put women on a pedestal can’t make love to them in the way that women want.
All women want a certain kinda lovin’, ladies. The more detached and uninterested you are toward your woman during sex, the more she’ll LOVE it. Trust this guy. I mean, he’s a writer!
A man who is too in awe of his woman isn’t going to tear her blouse open and ravish her on the couch;
This guy doesn’t know the sorts of guys I know.
he isn’t going to pull her hair and whisper profanities in her ear.
Whenever my marriage is at a crisis point, and my wife’s ego and mine are jostling for a position of supremacy, we inevitably have strenuous, battling sex.
Sex is WAR. Sex is a BATTLEFIELD.
Don’t you forget it, boys. And if she cries rape, you just didn’t get her drunk enough.
Oh, sorry, tangent.
My wife is older and more successful than I am, but the bedroom has always been the arena in which I have brought her down to earth.
I can just fuck the feminism right out of her.
I mean, I’m so insecure in all other areas of our life together: she’s older, more experienced, and a waaaaaaaaaaay better writer than I am, and the only way I feel I can get back at her is to dominate her during sex.
Why didn’t he just make the subtext text?
The female orgasm is the natural mechanism by which men assert dominion over women: a man who appreciates this can negotiate whatever difficulties arise in his relationships with them.
Gee, I’d love to know what man’s dominating a woman every time she gets off with another woman, or every time she masturbates.
But then, that would be admitting that some women just don’t need men around for anything at all, not even sex, and from the sound of this guy’s relationship, he really, really needs to find a way to be useful.
And all he’s got is the bedroom.
I would feel sorry for him – if he wasn’t such an asshole.
Last Christmas, my wife threw me out after discovering I’d been cheating on her. On the night we got back together, I made strong, passionate love to her. Unfaithful as I’d been, I was not going to let her have me over a barrel for the rest of our marriage. I needed to keep a sense of self and not allow her to mire me in guilt and a desperate quest of forgiveness.
Why should I feel guilty that I disrespected my wife? I’m a feminist!
Believe me, in this guy’s head, that all makes sense.
I needed to let her know what she would be missing if we broke up for ever. I gave her a manful bravura performance that night, and at the height of her passion, I asked her: ‘Who’s the boss?’
The boss? The boss??? WTF?
Sex is easy. Relationships are hard. This guy hasn’t got that down yet.
The question threw her. Initially she wouldn’t give me a reply, but I enticed it from her. ‘You are,’ she finally gasped. ‘You are!’
And suddenly our insecure writer doesn’t feel so insecure. This woman may be stronger, smarter, and more successful than he is, but he came make her come! He must have some worth after all.
Dude, when you’re measuring your self-worth in orgasms, you’ve seriously got to start getting your life together.
I am a very difficult man to be with. I know I have caused my wife great pain and anxiety. But she is an adult, and ultimately it is wholly her choice whether she wants to be with me or not – I cannot be anyone other than myself.
I’m just naturally an asshole! I can’t even try to communicate like a human being! I’m just a broken butterfly!
You know what, as someone who’s not terribly emotionally demonstrative, I can tell you that I’ve been making a lot of effort to be more so. It’s been really fucking hard, and I fall back a lot on the “I am what I am!” bullshit, but you know what? Ultimately, if you care about somebody, you figure out how not to be an asshole toward them.
And if you continue to be an asshole, it’s *you* who needs to face up the fact that you’re a fucking jerk and not good for somebody.
Get your shit together or get out.
I don’t believe in working on relationships and making artificial efforts to give them substance.
I let the women work on that for me. They’re the ones who are supposed to change, not me. I’m a man.
I believe in people being themselves and following their hearts towards whatever destiny lies before them.
Without any regard for anyone else in their lives.
Relationships between independent and assertive people will always be fraught with tensions, but they have enormous creative energy.
Notice that at no point does he say, “Equal.”
Despite the many problems my wife and I have endured, we have both come a long way since we first met six years ago.
But I thought he didn’t believe in working through problems? Except by fucking?
We have challenged one another to grow – professionally, intellectually, emotionally and spiritually. This would never have happened had she flaked out and gone for a softer option in her choice of partner.
Plus, he wouldn’t be getting laid.
Bring back the real men, girls. You might just remember why you loved them in the first place.
Raise your sons to be assholes!
You know you want to.