If chivalry is dead, I am a necromancer.
I find myself on the safe side of the sidewalk.
It has nothing to do with my magic vagina. (okay, maybe a little)
I understand, appreciate and acknowledge men.
I posted this meme on my page, anticipating nuclear fall-out. I was not disappointed, except I really was.
So much ‘well if I do this he better blah blah blah’. I could hear the voices, like nails on a chalkboard.
Ladies, I was talking to YOU, not him. Just you.
Or… “well I did all this and he still treated me like shit.”
One of two things, either he doesn’t understand what it means to be a man or you are lying.
The old adage ‘why go out for a burger when you have steak at home’. Oh honey, you aren’t steak anymore you ain’t even a burger. You are politically correct, lactose/gluten/carb free quinoa salad with fair trade seaweed sprinkles and tofu chunks, gack. No substance. No one can live on that.
I love my man, I also love giving head and making sandwiches. He’ll smile, this makes me happy. Please don’t shame me for what I enjoy. I didn’t ask you to suck his dick or feed him, that is my job. Society didn’t tell me to do this. I did. Trial and error. I tried things. Some I like, some I don’t. Head and sammiches, all good in my book. MY book, I wrote it.
And yes, I fully understand, some men don’t deserve this. I dated them too, in the time called before.
Leave them. Show some strength and self-worth and walk. Love yourself before attempting to love someone else.
A few hours later, I posted this meme and there was a grand celebration, a rousing chorus of ‘fuck yes’.
Fuck you guys.
Seriously?
How are you so blind you cannot see we cannot have one without the other?
I come from a line of strong women. Women who worked, hard. Women who created these beautiful homes out of rooms, windows and doors. Places of safety and love for our family.
If you were hungry you were fed, if you were hurt you were mended, if you were dirty you were made clean, if you were cold you were warmed. Without question or exception. These women who share my DNA also share a motto carved into our bones STAND BY YOUR MAN.
Think about that for a minute. The term ‘stand by’. Something prepared, at the ready, why is this a bad place to be?
He is on the front line, fighting everyday, you are behind him at the ready. Have you been on the front lines? I have, it’s not a good place to be.
The pendulum is swinging way too far. Back in the day, men tried to lord over women and we revolted.
What do you think is going to happen when we try to lord over them? Seen any Amazons running around lately?
I am not bashing women. I celebrate and support all women. I am one. I have slept with many. I loved it for the same reasons I love my own body. Soft, sweet, yielding flesh in this aesthetically pleasing package. We cooked together, cleaned together, cried over movies together. But women are like the weather, always changing. Emotionally I felt carelessly tossed in the wind, rained on, tempests raging and occasionally like I was basking in the sun.
Men are like trees strong, sturdy, rooted, providing shelter and shade.
I enjoy my moods, my emotions, my inner 50’s housewife that feels so satisfied anticipating the needs of the man I love. Keeping him warm, fed, emotionally safe, sexually satisfied, having the occasional debate neither one of us will win because we are different and good god that is GLORIOUS.
Yes, sometimes I storm and rage and knock leaves off of him, but then my sun shines and my rain falls and I am nurturing him.
Sometimes he is so unrelenting and unmoving and stable I find it maddening.
Then I see clearly again and love him for the way he keeps me tethered and grounded.
Give me 5 minutes.
This is the dynamic we are losing.
I have been guilty of this false sense of independence and equality. Stuck on the idea of changing my own tires, paying for dinner as well as keeping up a home. It’s exhausting. I was accidentally emasculating this man I was supposed to care about and killing myself in the process. And I broke a fucking nail dammit.
The fact that I can do it, just means I am not helpless and needy.
He works on my car, I bring him a beer and hand him tools, the RIGHT tools.
This doesn’t make me less of a woman, it makes me more comfortable in my skin and he in his.
I don’t think any human should be used, or ruled over.
I simply remember and rejoice in the undeniable psychologically proven scientific fact that I am not the same as him, I am not equal to him nor is he equal to me. I don’t want to be.
My body and mind are amazing in their own right and so are his (oh my god his body and his mind).
We were made this way to complement each other, not compete.
There are wars raging outside, our home is SANCTUARY. He builds, I maintain.
Let him be a man and just love him already. If we go back to nurturing they will go back to protecting. This is not rocket science. It’s anthropology, it’s how we made it this far as a species. They went of hunting and doing man shit, we stayed home and made sure they had a home to come back to. They are bigger and stronger because we feed them. Simple as that.
They made the wheel, let them change the tire.
I am anticipating some nuclear fall-out from this as well.
I am not worried. I like who and what I am.