A true Amazon couldn’t stand the company of a supplicant male, let alone marry one. Real alpha-women are the ones who can more than hold their own with an alpha-man.
Deep down, women love men who stand up to them, who won’t be pushed around. They love men who will look them in the eye and tell them to shut up when their hormonal bickering has become too much.
“Women love abuse!”
They love men who will draw a line in the sand and walk out on them when they’ve had enough. They love men who know their own minds and are man enough to stick to their guns.
I’m always telling my wife, the writer Liz Jones, to shut up. She gets into a prissy huff about it, but I know she respects me for not indulging her neuroticism. Long ago, I realised it is unhealthy for a man to embroil himself in arguments with women.
“I’m an abusive prick of a husband, but my wife thanks me for it. Bitch, get in the kitchen and get me a beer.”
While men want an argument to make sense and have a rational conclusion, women solely want the argument itself: it’s a pressure valve for their emotions, and once they get started there is no stopping them.
Ah, yes, the old “men are logical, and women are ruled by their emotions” canard. Not like we’ve ever seen any man making emotional arguments just to argue, nosirreebob.
I have a very low boredom threshold; I can’t bear having protracted discussions about where my wife and I ‘are going’. Nor can I bear to listen to the gossipy, highly detailed ‘He said, she said’ monologues that women drift into when telling you about their day.
I deal with these elements of the female personality with impassive indifference. People might call me a sexist pig, but I am the opposite. I love women, and I love my wife because she is brilliant and incredibly strong.
Not strong enough to leave his passive-aggressive ass, apparently.
Oh, and this is priceless:
I am a true feminist, because I only want to be with a powerful and capable woman. No sexist could cope with having a wife as intelligent and independent as mine.
“Whereas I just trash her in a national news article and let the world know that I regularly tell her to shut up and force her to make all the decisions because I like to be manipulative and controlling.”
And this is fun: “I know What Women Want, but I don’t pretend to understand them because they are inscrutable and mysterious creatures”:
But women secretly long for a man with swagger, who is cocky and selfassured and has the cheek to stand up them and make fun of their feminine foibles.
They long for the rakish charm of a man who knows there’s a whole ocean of fish out there, who isn’t afraid of being himself in case he is rejected.
The truth is, a real man doesn’t care what any woman thinks of him. He doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him: he answers solely to his spirit.
Real men don’t pretend or even try to understand women. They simply love them for being the mysterious, capricious creatures that they are. And they don’t take them too seriously, either. They know the vicissitudes of the female mind, its constant insecurities and the fluctuations in mood.
“Women are easily exploitable!
“And the way to do it is through the orgasm”:
A man who is too in awe of his woman isn’t going to tear her blouse open and ravish her on the couch; he isn’t going to pull her hair and whisper profanities in her ear. Whenever my marriage is at a crisis point, and my wife’s ego and mine are jostling for a position of supremacy, we inevitably have strenuous, battling sex.
My wife is older and more successful than I am, but the bedroom has always been the arena in which I have brought her down to earth.
The female orgasm is the natural mechanism by which men assert dominion over women: a man who appreciates this can negotiate whatever difficulties arise in his relationships with them.
Last Christmas, my wife threw me out after discovering I’d been cheating on her. On the night we got back together, I made strong, passionate love to her. Unfaithful as I’d been, I was not going to let her have me over a barrel for the rest of our marriage. I needed to keep a sense of self and not allow her to mire me in guilt and a desperate quest of forgiveness.
I needed to let her know what she would be missing if we broke up for ever. I gave her a manful bravura performance that night, and at the height of her passion, I asked her: ‘Who’s the boss?’
The question threw her. Initially she wouldn’t give me a reply, but I enticed it from her. ‘You are,’ she finally gasped. ‘You are!’ I am a very difficult man to be with. I know I have caused my wife great pain and anxiety. But she is an adult, and ultimately it is wholly her choice whether she wants to be with me or not – I cannot be anyone other than myself.
Meaning: “I will always find an excuse not to examine my behavior and attitudes, because I can’t change who I am. And who I am is a weaselly, manipulative, passive-aggressive cheating turdgobbler with a vastly inflated sense of his own sexual prowess. Oh, and by the way, that thing where I said I was a true feminist because my wife is strong and independent? I can pretend that’s true because I never let her get too strong or independent before bringing her back ‘down to earth.'”