If I were a cynical person (in my moments of semi-lucidity), there would be moments wherein I would think that women have the greatest con going on in existence with men being the sheep being fleeced.
A man is a human being who works.
He is given little or no choice in the matter.
Any qualities in a man that she finds useful are labelled masculine, the rest are disparingly labelled effeminate.
He must look masculine if he wants success with women so his appearance must be geared to his one and only raison d´etre – work.
He must be ready to do each and every task put to him and he must always be ready to fulfill it.
His clothes are generally lacking in style or variety as compared to a woman´s as functionality is deemed more important than fashion.
His hair is simpler to deal with, his toilet is efficient and unelaborate, and he is generally laughed at should his ornamentation be excessive.
We want to look as identical as possible to every other man.
Many men do jobs they hate, but do so with pride knowing they do it for wife and children.
Every moment of his life is spent as a cog in a huge and pitiless system designed to exploit him to the utmost to his dying day.
Once it has been determined wherein his talents lie, he is sentenced generally to one profession for life and is strongly discouraged by woman to change it, because this need for personal development is wraught with insecurity to the life she has convinced him to embrace.
Change his way of life and he is deemed unreliable.
Do this too often and he becomes a social outcast.
The fear of being rejected is considerable, so we will repeat the same mindless tasks for the rest of our lives ad infinitum – even as our souls are being destroyed in the process.
Lose our capacity to work, our capacity to earn, is to be deemed a failure.
Tell your woman you want to find yourself in a job that fulfills you and stand to lose everything – wife, family, home – all in the name of security.
How many men´s lives and potential have been sacrificed on the altar of sex and love for the Church of Woman?
This pitiless goddess has convinced us her dreamy disciples that we cannot live without her, so we will do anything she asks.
Our very identites are wrapped up in the promise that we are not rejected by this paragon of beauty who bestows upon ourselves explosive moments of release.
So we ignore that this mindless devotion might not be our only potential.
We think we are on the same playing field as Woman, but we are not.
The gameboard may be love and co-existence, but we are playing checkers, while She is playing chess.