Be a man

The radical feminist movement can kiss my hind-parts.  These washed-up, bitter womyn (most of whom grow better mustaches than I can), are the reason that my wife thinks she can get away with this crap, and the reason I have been such a pansy for the last 9 months.  Men have been feminized, women have been masculinized, and the outcome has been a disaster.  Little panty-waist men cower in the corners while their women trample all over them.

Men these days spend more time doing their hair than they spend working with power tools.  Hell, most men I know couldn't build a shelf or fix a car if their life depended on it.  And have you been out on a Friday night lately?  Good gravy, most of the 20-something guys are more made-up than their dates.  Guys, if you know more about designer jean manufactures than you do about how to change a tire, you deserve to be strangled with your own leotard.

So how does this fit into affairs?  Simple.  My mom, God bless her, would never have done this crap to my father.  My grandmother doing this to my grandfather would have been unthinkable.  They're good women to begin with, but regardless, the fact is that my father or my grandfather would have tolerated a cheating wife as much as they would have tolerated their kid snorting cocaine in Sunday School.  Don't get me wrong, I come from a long line of men who wouldn't strike a woman for any reason, and who would beat senseless any man who did.  So I'm not talking about the "old-school" kind of guy who would belt his wife for infidelity.  That kind of behavior is just sick and wrong, and actually quite unmanly.

Here's how I think my dad would have handled it, and here's how I should have handled it from Day 1:  When I found out my wife was cheating on me, and when she didn't immediately fall at my feet begging for forgiveness, I should have rented a U-Haul and packed all her crap up.  I should have told her that if some other guy was important enough to sneak around my back with, by golly he could have her.  At that point she'd have two choices:  1) Leave our home - jobless, penniless, and with nowhere to go but to her alcoholic, womanizing boyfriend's house.  You see, affairs are only fun until you actually have to face the reality of them.  She probably would have come to her senses pretty quickly, but if not then I had already lost her anyway.  2) Stay with me and unpack the U-Haul, but with conditions.  No more going out and sipping coffee, writing, and flirting with other men while the kids and I rot at home.  No contact with the other man, ever.  Period.  And finally, showing me respect and love.  Don't like the conditions, the U-Haul has a full tank and is ready to go.

Of course this isn't what I did.  I begged, cried, grovelled, guilted, you name it.  And it looked every bit as ridiculous as the sequins on a little girly-man's $100 sweater vest.  Such was the product of my being led to believe that men were supposed to be sensitive, effeminate, and "in-tune with their feelings".  Ironically, as I think about it, the few good times this last year have come when I acted like the alpha-male I ought to be.  Telling my wife I didn't give a d*** about her little games, going off and watching football with my buddies, and refusing to answer her calls and texts, pretty much guaranteed I'd come home to find her waiting in lingerie.  The dirty little secret is, for all the talk about what women want, not much has changed in the last 100,000 years.  Women want a MAN. 

Respect yourself, and maybe she'll grow to respect you too.  That my plan anyway.  It's time to be a man.  Who's with me?