The triumph of feminism means that today’s attractive young women are reaping the best of both worlds. They are empowered, unshackled, out there having adventures, covering their bodies with tattoos, pursuing advanced degrees and careers, getting their hands as dirty as they want. But when it suits them they slip back into pretty girl mode, where men fawn over them and pay for the things they want to have.
In their eyes we men can’t help but appear disposable, interchangeable, less than the whole package that is today’s goddess. They always held the natural advantage, and now there are no longer any social or legal checks on a young woman’s breadth or behavior regardless of ability to responsibly exercise her power. Any semblance of balance between the sexes has been obliterated and we are all worse for it.
How many decent men live in a hell of silent pain as they witness this monstrous, unjust spectacle? How many of us in our daily lives at best graze against woman’s warm glow as a simulation during pleasant exchanges with a female cashier, bank teller, waitress, or phone operator? Saddest damn truth in the wide spectrum of male suffering right there. A truth that is unknown, unseen, and uncomprehended by the so-called intuitive fair sex which lives like a celebrity in complete oblivion to how grueling each day can be for “the other half.”
We get so little attention, so little appreciation, so little respect day in and day out, and meanwhile women are showered with slavish praise simply for being born with good genes, not having been maimed in a car accident, and then having shown up somewhere to be seen. On top of that, we men project all this wisdom and depth onto attractive women because at the core our DNA program tells us to worship the angelic sight of female beauty. We crave something to work and fight for, never realizing how they’ve been passed along their entire lives like an illiterate star football player, never having to develop a personality or nuanced intellectual abilities.
Meanwhile men have always had to prove themselves as worthy workers and providers. The lifting of previous checks on women’s mobility—which ironically once served as protection for the childbearing members of the race—have through social change and medical advances liberated them to “be one of the guys,” because in another ironic twist, from the WNBA to high powered executives it’s always women trying to be like men and not the other way around.
Though now, after a decades-long erosion of anything that would empower boys and men, we’re seeing several new male trends. a) Video gamers completely detached from daily life and living vicariously through digital avatars in simulated worlds. b) More stay-at-home dads (which could actually lead to a Renaissance of well-adapted boys due to healthy father-son relationships). c) A subset of “trendies” or “hipsters” that if not actually gay exhibit many effeminate mannerisms that may at the core actually just be a desperate plea for humane treatment from women: “See, I am not threatening to you. May I participate in the peppy Vanessa Carlton song that is your average day? May I bask in your radiance and joy for five minutes before your face goes dark with mistrust of my kind?”
The days are lonely and the forecast dim. The void is pierced with a pang of longing, then numbness again. A daily cycle of torment both living in and watching a cultural tide in which men are shunned and mocked, yet still expected to work diligently in the absence of comfort, joy, or release. Not even the soft caress of a hand across the back of the neck that sends a tingle down your spine and makes your eyelids heavy. No, we’re not even worthy of that whisper of peace from today’s women who have everything and like spoiled brats give nothing.
Power-mad monsters stuffing their faces at the buffet of their own vanity, looking to squeeze every last drop from life before their eggs go dry—and then it’s off to find a schmuck like Gerry Fleck from “Best in Show,” cuckold of the year, oblivious to the indignity of his life as he happily cuts the checks to the fertility clinic with quintuplets soon to follow. And if that’s how dire this road gets, maybe it’s better to be alone than a chump. Death before dishonor!