Revisit a super old post by The Last Psychiatrist, reviewing Sandra Tsing Loh's popular
Atlantic article about divorce:
Let's Call The Whole Thing Off
Seriously, that article fisking is gold, Jerry, gold.
Looking at this "man's" article, right in the first paragraph:
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I am an economically dependent househusband coping with the withering drudgery of child-rearing.
I don't see how anybody in their right mind can see liberals as decent people. They come right out and start mindlessly bitching about how oppressive caring and loving children is -- Oh! But other liberals can
relate to the experience, as if the guilt over being a shitty parent somehow gets absolved when we all just talk about it. Nothing is more upsetting than realizing that you are no longer the star of your own movie. . .
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Still, as a man, I could, if I wanted to, portray what I’m doing as “work,” and thus claim for myself the prestige men traditionally derive from “work.” Whenever I tell someone I stay home with the kids, they invariably say, “Hardest work in the world.” They say this because the only way to account for a man at home with the kids
Anybody who regularly starts sentence with "As an X..." is a person who is primarily concerned with how others see them -- their identity. I don't see any worry about how this "arrangement" is going to affect the kids, any worry that his passive-aggressive behavior towards his wife is affecting his kids. I see lots of hand-wringing about how others see their arrangement, using feminism as the awkward tool to make it feel "right" to him -- because right to him is what others see, not what is.
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In this way, my masculine self-image was stretched but not broken. Diaper bag notwithstanding, I was still a Man. It wasn’t until my wife mentioned one evening that she’d kissed another man and liked it and wanted to do more than kiss next time that I realized how my status as a Man depended on a single fact: that my wife fucked only me.
You wanna be seen as a man? Abandon the feminist mumbo-jumbo, get a tattoo and start banging blonds with fake tits. Also, don't angry when your daughter starts dying her hair 50 shades of dirty blond and thinks plastic surgery is "hot." Remember -- it's your status as a "real man" is how others estimate you, not who you really are.
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When people ask how it started, I say this: We married young. She’d had sex before me, but only with a handful of people a handful of times. She never had a boyfriend, never had a lover. I was the first man she ever had the chance to get to know intimately. By her mid-30s, having already had our children and entering her sexual prime, she felt keenly her lack of sexual experience. Happily for me, she was willing to talk about it, willing to ask if I’d be open to exploring other options. We opened a bottle of wine and started talking, and talking, and talking.
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If a woman likes sex, she’s a whore and a slut; if she only likes sex with her husband or boyfriend, she’s boring and lame; if she doesn’t like sex at all, she’s frigid and unfeeling. Every option is a trap.
You mean everything in life is a trap when you only deal in stereotypes and pre-determined roles? It really must be tough to enjoy anything when you are really only concerned when you are going to get your "man card" revoked.
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When my wife told me she wanted to open our marriage and take other lovers, she wasn’t rejecting me, she was embracing herself. When I understood that, I finally became a feminist.
Anything that keeps the movie about yourself, huh? You get to play the role of the struggling -- but enlightened -- feminist dad who grapples with his shallow, vapid narcissism by reinterpreting it as cosmic struggle against patriarchy and prejudice against women. All the while your children have already learned you are an impotent, worthless shitheel who couldn't even be counted on to have the decency to tell his wife that fidelity is
required when a woman loves a man. Was it love, self-respect or marriage that is/was outdated?
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I’m grateful to my wife for pushing us to take this leap
I don't care what her politics are -- no woman likes to lead her man. Unless, of course, you aren't really a man. In fact,
I bet he really likes this Guinness ad that "re-imagines" masculinity. . .
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And I know all this is true because the ads told me so, in order. You're going to be infuriated at this blonde Hooters Waitress for only being attracted to chiseled abs and a commanding phallus, but even if she miraculously chose to come under your umbrella, you'd see suddenly she was only a brunette, huh, and you still wouldn't do anything about it. And off she goes, a missed opportunity. And before that ignites your amygdala into a blinding self-hatred, you will remember that it's all the cunt's fault, and besides, never mind all these girls, the fact that you're a good friend to your less fortunate friend is what makes you a man; but since you are not actually a good friend, indeed, you don't even have any friends, well, this ad will signal to yourself that you are. Message received.
As an aside, drink Guinness.