Tag Archives: Manosphere

When Your Spouse Dies and You Miss Their Dirty Socks on the Floor

dirty socks on the floor

(Image/The Livingston Post)

After her husband died unexpectedly, the dirty socks and pants she used to find thrown on the bedroom floor became something she missed.

She avoided washing his last load of laundry as long as she could. Savoring this once-annoying moment as she realized how much she would miss it.

Debbie Wilkins Baisden recounts this story and the life lesson it provided in her article “Stop Being a Butthole Wife.”

Everyone who has ever written about male-female relationships could have predicted what happened next.

Everyone in happy, peaceful marriages read it and said: “Amen, sister! Don’t sweat the small stuff!”

Wives frustrated and angry with their husbands who leave dirty laundry on the floor, and dirty dishes next to the sink said: “I know you’re sad your husband died, but that doesn’t mean we should excuse the disrespectful behavior! I’m not my husband’s maid, and he needs to respect me and pick up after himself!”

And then a guy would reply: “Why do you believe you have the right to command your husband to do things your way, or dictate the terms of your marriage when he feels differently? You’re not his mother!”

And then a married or divorced wife would reply: “The person who does all the cleaning should make the rules!”

And then a married guy would reply: “I suppose that’s what you say and feel when your husband is outside shoveling snow, or fixing the plumbing, or taking garbage to the curb! You feminists have ruined marriage!”

And then a woman would reply: “Actually, you misogynists are the ones who ruined marriage!”

And then more people would internet-scream at each other about who is responsible or to blame for their problems, the premise always being that “If only men/women would stop doing (insert ‘crime’ here), we wouldn’t have all these relationship problems!”

If I Blame Everything on Divorce, Then Nothing is Ever My Fault

That’s my life in a nutshell.

I don’t do it on purpose.

I don’t sit around thinking: This is all totally my fault, but I’ll just blame it on someone or something else for public-relations reasons and trick everyone.

But I do often catch myself blaming divorce for things.

I was popular and well-liked growing up. (Or at least, I THOUGHT I was popular and well-liked, which has the same effect on your mind and body even if it wasn’t true.)

I assumed everyone I met liked me, and I assumed everyone I would meet would like me, and that made me mostly fearless.

I made friends easily. Girls seemed to like me. Friends’ parents, teachers, and coaches all seemed to as well.

I had many friends. Both in high school and college. In two different states because my mom and dad lived in different places.

I struggled with the transition to domesticated, couples-based socializing after my girlfriend/fiancée/wife and I started our life together, and everything converted from big-group activities and parties, to small dinner parties and small-group gatherings.

But as time passed and I matured, I found peace and pleasure with the ebb and flow of being married and couples-based socializing as we all began building careers and families.

Then the hits started coming around age 30.

The fight about where we should live and work.

The birth of our son.

The death of a parent.

The near-universal husband/wife clashes over money, household chores, and how we treated one another when things got rough.

It’s the slow march to divorce most people don’t see coming nor recognize as it’s happening, but it mostly looks the same for everyone in failing or failed marriages.

My wife stopped liking me.

Then, stopped loving me.

She’s not big on pretending, so I felt the change. And one day at a time, it started pecking at my insides.

Next thing I knew, I was sleeping in the guest room and freaking out.

Then, she was gone, and I freaked out harder.

Then—I don’t know. That’s now, I guess. “Then” is now. On April 1, it will be four years since my marriage ended.

It’s a big blur in my head that feels simultaneously lightning-fast and like an agonizing eternity.

I only know this: When the story began, everyone liked me, I wasn’t afraid of anything, and life was awesome. And now? I worry about people liking me. I’m afraid of all kinds of things. And life is just okay.

It’s easy to blame her for my life and feel sorry for myself.

It’s easy to blame her when she goes on vacations with her boyfriend and our old couples friends.

It’s easy to blame her when she goes on trips with our son and families of his new friends from school.

It’s easy to feel: She did this to me. She turned me into someone else, and then dumped the person she made me become.

It’s easy to blame all the hurt and shame and fear and anxiety and inconveniences and difficulties on other people.

I think if men can keep blaming feminism and “nagging wives” for ruining marriage, then men will never have to grow and change.

I think if women can keep blaming misogyny and “shitty husbands” for ruining marriage, then women will never have to grow and change.

Growth and change is hard. Like cooking when you don’t feel like it.

Maybe I’ll just order a pizza.

Maybe someone can start a peaceful-relationship delivery service. Delivering harmony and kindness to our front doors for a small fee.

Nothing Changes Unless We Do

I don’t know Debbie Wilkins Baisden. But as someone helping to popularize the term “shitty husband,” I feel uniquely qualified to guess the following:

Debbie labeling herself a “butthole wife” because she used to complain about her husband’s dirty laundry was NOT to excuse husbands who are slobs, nor to label all wives seeking thoughtfulness and respect from their husbands as “buttholes.”

Me labeling myself a “shitty husband” is NOT me taking on all of the blame for my failed marriage, nor is it to condemn all men who leave laundry on the floor or dishes by the sink as “shitty.”

It’s simply a fun writing convention to talk about where I messed up in my marriage.

Maybe my ex-wife believes she messed up sometimes. I don’t know. I know only that I’m qualified to write about my thoughts, feelings and experiences, and NOT qualified to write about anyone else’s, least of all someone with whom I disagreed with so much, that we ended a marriage with a young child involved.

EVERYTHING is Our Responsibility

Guys LOVE to come back at me with: “This is all just theory and conjecture! If guys do all the stuff you say, they’re just going to get run over by their domineering, emotional, bitchy wives!”

To which I’d reply:

Don’t marry anyone who is domineering, bitchy, or whose emotional reactions you consider intolerable.

I’m simply NOT blaming myself or men for failed marriages. Never have; never will.

I am identifying all of the ways I messed up or made decisions which led to divorce, and asking myself the question: If I hadn’t messed up, and had I made better decisions, isn’t it possible that the events leading to divorce wouldn’t have happened in the first place, and that our marriage would have thrived?

Another good question: If instead of waiting for my wife to grow and change, I proactively grew and changed, isn’t it possible my wife would have felt and responded differently? Isn’t it possible most of our fights would have never happened at all?

Single people can point fingers at certain behaviors and decide for themselves that they’re unacceptable and that they’d never be in a relationship with someone who showcased them. Single people are responsible for their own happiness. Single people are not beholden to others.

Yet, single people almost ALWAYS (to the tune of 95%) pursue long-term relationships with other people, presumably because they believe a long-term relationship will make them happy.

However, the entry fee for a relationship is trading in your Single Person card and exchanging it for a In A Relationship one.

And now, in a certain context, you don’t get to be yourself anymore.

Marriages and Relationships Aren’t Two People Doing Something Together

We talk about two people getting married. And now they’re a couple. Two different people. But a team.

It’s kind of true. But as soon as it gets hard and one person feels like the other is a bad teammate, people start looking for another team to join, or to go back to being a team of one.

But I don’t believe a marriage is two people doing something together.

I believe a marriage is ONE thing. And it’s built from two parts.

What makes an airplane fly? The wings or the engine?

Exactly.

Two different parts, which if EITHER stops functioning, the entire thing goes down.

People fight, fight, fight, fight, and fight some more because they want their spouse to admit to being wrong and acknowledge that he or she was “right.”

And people fight, fight, fight, fight, and fight that EXACT SAME FIGHT until they die or divorce because the husband’s or wife’s goal is to win the fight.

When the airplane’s engine wins enough fights, one of the wings will fall off.

When the airplane’s wings win enough fights, the engine or engines will start to lose thrust.

And then, boom. Fiery explosions and sadness.

The intentions of critical airplane parts should be to maximize the aircraft’s performance, lest they all explode and die.

The intentions of husbands and wives should be to maximize the performance—NOT of themselves, but of the marriage as a unit.

The widowed Debbie missed picking up her husband’s annoying dirty laundry because the marriage was WAY bigger than just her, or just her feelings, or just the laundry, or just anything.

And she shared that experience because it mattered, just as I share mine.

But lost in all the noise, is purpose and meaning. The reasons WHY these stories matter. 

He’s blaming her.

She’s blaming him.

I’m blaming her, and then…

I’m blaming me.

It’s no one’s fault and everyone’s.

And it’s easy to blame, blame, blame, so we all do it some more, even when we don’t need any more blame. We’re totally good on blame now. Quota’s filled.

We need responsibility.

Accountability.

The willingness to serve a thing bigger than just ourselves.

Because that’s where true peace, happiness, love and contentment lives. Or maybe just because you fucking promised. Take your pick.

Maybe we’ll get it right someday.

Maybe even me.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , ,

How to Be a Man, Vol. 2

keep-calm-and-make-me-a-sandwich-52

It was about 5 a.m. this morning when I discovered a subgroup of people I seriously didn’t know existed.

The manosphere.

It was a comment from a reader on my An Open Letter to Shitty Husbands, Vol. 4 post.

I think he was trying to be helpful.

“Man, you have to go and reinvent yourself… I am in the same situation. It gets better, if you do the work,” he said.

He dropped in a link and a suggestion: “Start here.”

So, I did. In the wee hours of the morning—knowing I’d pay for neglecting sleep later tonight, I dove headfirst into the rabbit hole.

I was introduced to psychological concepts like “hypergamy,” which is the theory that women instinctively want to discard their current partners when an opportunity arises to latch onto someone better.

Is that what my wife did?

I read all about the sex strategy of women, according to these guys—Alpha fucks, and Beta bucks. This is the theory that all women crave the comfort and stability of whipped men brainwashed by the rising tide of feminism into a “fem-centric,” safe, Beta-providing lifestyle. But they want to be fucked, on the side, like porn stars by large men with huge dicks and werewolf blood.

I am part of this emasculated, effeminate world, they’ll tell you. Plugged in to the feminist system. In metaphorical chains. Destined for a life of being taken advantage of, and abused by women.

Essentially, they will tell you: I am ignorant. I am a weak idealist. I am a fool.

The author of The Rational Male is clearly very intelligent. Educated. Well-read. A strong writer.

But is he wise?

I’m not sure yet. I must read more from him to get the entire scope of his philosophy. And I will.

But just between you and me? I value wisdom more than intelligence.

Men vs. Women

I have read way too little of this manosphere philosophy to offer any sort of major criticism or thoughtful rebuttal.

The following represents my uneducated gut reaction.

At first glance, it appears men who subscribe to this lifestyle measure life success on three things:

1. How many women they have sex with.

2. Never being tied down to a monogamous relationship doomed to fail because modern marriage is a societal construct that goes against the very nature of men and women’s genetic programming.

3. Having power and dominance over women.

If I had a candid conversation with any of these guys or even if they just read my quasi-tongue-in-cheek whining about never having sex, they’d all tell you it’s because I’m a big pussy. Wussified by my mother, and liberal, feminist brainwashing, and years of emasculating servitude to an ungrateful spouse who did exactly what all women are instinctively prone to do—trade up for the bigger, better deal when the opportunity arose.

I’ll say this. I err on the “side” of wives in my writing. In my opinions as they relate to male-female relationships.

But that doesn’t mean I think all men are worthless pigs, and all women, blameless victims.

There are a MILLION posts to be written on shitty wives.

But I’m not going to write them.

OWN. YOUR. SHIT.

I write my posts to “shitty husbands” because I believe in every individual accepting responsibility for his or her own actions.

I write about the need for men to serve their wives and families. I do that because I believe men have the most power to stem the tide of divorce by being what a husband is supposed to be.

That’s not to suggest the wife should sit around getting foot massages and fake tans while metaphorically castrated husbands run around saying: “Yes, princess. Of course, princess. Whatever you want, princess.”

Absolutely not.

Women are responsible for themselves. They are responsible for self reflecting, asking the difficult questions, and deriving reasonable conclusions as to the role they play in failing human relationships, same as men.

My job is to accept responsibility for my own actions and encourage everyone else to do the same.

I’m not going to sit here and point any more fingers at my ex-wife than I already have.

I’ve done plenty of That-bitch-ruined-me feeling sorry for myself.

She’s not a bitch. She’s a human being. Flawed. Mistake-prone. Unable to carry the weight of the world when the pressures and brokenness all become too much.

Just like me.

Just like you.

Life is not one-size-fits-all.

We don’t need advanced degrees in human ethology to recognize that all humans share some very striking physical and emotional commonalities. AND, that we’re all incredibly unique and diverse, as well.

To pigeonhole every man and woman into these silos seems incredibly over-simplistic.

It’s a battle for ultimate power, these guys will tell you. Us versus them.

Is that what we’re in, men and women? An epic power struggle between genders?

Am I supposed to look at every woman I meet as someone plotting to control me? As an enemy?

These manosphere philosophers seem to believe that very battle is being waged. And at least a few of them argue their points intelligently and succinctly.

I just have a little trouble latching on to such ideas. You know that smell? That reeking smell of rotting bullshit? That’s what I smell when I read some of this stuff.

So men should have power over women, you say?

Should white people have power over black people?

Should straight people have power over gay people?

Should rich people have power over poor people?

There’s an aura of macho elitism in much of this. And in their defense—like the guy who commented on my post this morning—I think they just want to help me. They want me to join their team because they believe that’s where true life satisfaction and happiness as a man lives.

A Different Kind of Tough

They’ll tell you I’m weak.

And don’t take this the wrong way, guys, because I’m not completely dismissing every facet of this manosphere philosophy until I’ve studied it much more (the author of The Rational Male, for example, has been married for 17 years and has children)—but, fuck you very much.

I don’t not have sex with women because I’m weak and can’t get any. I don’t have sex with anyone because I’m strong.

I believe in unconditional love. In choosing to love. In making the hard, difficult choices every day in the context of a committed monogamous relationship.

You think that’s easy to do? You think that’s weakness? Eat shit.

Because that’s HARD.

Walking the walk every day—striving to be the best version of your mental, physical, emotional and spiritual self—is not for the weak.

You better be strong. Tough as nails. Every single day, forever. Because that’s what it takes.

My tough might not look like your tough.

You slept with three women last week. Running a scam. Pretending to be something you’re not. To perpetuate the lifestyle of cheap, throwaway relationships, designed solely to serve yourself.

Forgive me for failing to see the virtue in that.

I would gladly choose a lifetime of celibacy over treating human beings like things.

If you want to write that off as my inability to get laid, that’s your choice to make.

I believe in respecting myself. I’m attracted to people who respect themselves.

It’s not weak to respect women. To do it right actually takes enormous strength.

The Meaning of Life

I try so hard to keep theological conversation off these pages.

1. I don’t want to debate it.

2. I don’t want to tell people their beliefs are wrong, nor do I want people saying that to me.

3. I’ll never believe that words on a page will bring people to spiritual fulfillment. Spiritual fulfillment lives in prayer, meditation and taking action. Self-discovery.

To be part of the manosphere, it appears I would have to abandon every moral principle I possess.

Marriage is bullshit, they say. Committed relationships are for fools.

So we teach our sons, through both action and word that women are inferior beings designed to be subservient to our daily whims? To what? Not respect their mothers? Or any other girls in their lives?

And we teach our daughters, what? That they’re a lower-class of human being? That they need to find a dominant man to “game” them into bed before they tire of our daughters’ illogic and crazy emotion-driven behavior?

Here’s as preachy as you’re ever going to see me. Do with it what you will:

Keep telling yourself there are no such thing as souls. That life is meaningless.

That there are no consequences, in this life or the next, in living without moral restraint.

I do believe in God, and maybe I’ll write about why someday.

I subscribe to Christian principles when I’m not saying “fuck you very much.”

I don’t pretend to understand the mysteries of a world beyond our human experience. I don’t have any answers. I just know that trying to emulate Christ (NOT by judgmental assholes who call themselves Christians, but Christ himself), leads to making solid lifestyle decisions that involve loving each and every human being. In behaving in ways that set a wonderful example for our children. Our friends. Our neighbors. Our co-workers.

It doesn’t mean preaching on street corners, screaming at “sinners” and quoting bible verses all the time.

It means walking the difficult path. When people are watching. And when they’re not.

I’m HORRIBLE at this. But it’s what I strive for.

I don’t need to sell anyone on this, nor am I trying to. You’re going to do and believe what you want. And you SHOULD do that. Ask hard questions. Figure things out for yourself.

The truth will be revealed in the end, one way or another.

But living without restraint—without principles—leads to a poisoned soul. Darkness. Contamination. On the inside of us.

It robs us of peace. It robs us of fun. It robs us of love. It robs us of the best feeling we get to experience as human beings—happiness.

Do the wrong thing long enough, and you’re going to feel shitty. And I don’t want you to feel shitty.

So, maybe try something new.

Because many of you manosphere guys are going to wake up 75 and alone one day. And none of your “game” or selfishness is going to have gotten you anything of value.

You’ll be empty, and morally bankrupt.

Maybe—just maybe—you could try it my way instead.

1. Love yourself.

2. Be grateful for your life.

3. Love your partner unconditionally. Choose to love. It’s a decision. Not a feeling.

4. Serve something greater than yourself. On Earth, and spiritually.

5. Give more than you take in all of your relationships and feel the world return that unselfishness to you. Because it will.

Sure, your way will get you more sex with women who don’t care about you in the interim.

But my way? That will keep you from wanting to off yourself in retirement, when you’re empty, bitter and alone. When you’ll need all the “Game” you can muster to get that flaccid thing erect to try and work things out yourself.

Hopefully, there will be some Bones reruns playing for you on TV Land.

Because I’d hate to bump into you 30 years from now working behind the local deli counter.

I’ll walk in. You’ll immediately identify me as not being as manly as you. My pocket will be full of Beta bucks.

“What can I get for you, sir?” you’ll say.

And I’ll reply: “You can make me a sandwich.”

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
%d bloggers like this: