Although my literary work on relationships has, to this point at least, been aimed at men. It isn’t at all difficult for female readers to learn what they need to know about themselves from the material, and about their role in relational difficulties. Explaining to men in explicit detail how women make relationships problematic, the role of women, it would seem, is being made abundantly clear.
So women having read my material, and yet asking me for a more direct appeal to them, as in, “Tell us women what we should know,” I admit to being perplexed. Actually, the request gave me pause. I thought, Oh sure. Women want me to directly indict them so they can kick my ass in the village square!
The truth is, I typically avoid talking directly with women about themselves and relationship matters. Why?
Because women get defensive when you’re critical of them. That’s why!
“But-but, men do this!” and “men do that!” women say. Discussions are fruitless, usually. Somewhere in the middle you find yourself thinking: Why, this conversation has turned into a real marriage.
Not all women are this way but, frankly, the percentage is too high and it just isn’t worth the gamble.
Although, if there is one medium through which I might attempt to address women more directly, as in, Here’s What You Do Wrong, Ladies, it’s writing. Writing a message one isn’t standing in front of an audience of women and exposed to stinging glares and pursed lips. One doesn’t have to take questions, either, or to endure defensive rebuttals, hecklers, or a collective attack. Sitting behind the keyboard one is insulated from all that.
So, it’s with this rather comforting degree of separation that I offer the upcoming. Following is a direct appeal to women regarding some primary issues of theirs that, when addressed and repaired, will bring about immediate improvement in their relationships with men.
Let’s begin with this baseline issue:
Women are unbearably self-conscious.
Their appearance, their bodies, their image—driven by insecurity and vanity, life is one giant political nightmare for women, a daily and unending siege that results in emotional imbalance. Women are up; they’re down. They feel good about themselves; they feel bad. A fundamental and primary issue, the self-consciousness has a direct effect on relationships, and specifically men.
How so?
Essentially, women hand men their self-consciousness baggage: I don’t feel pretty; make me feel pretty. I feel unloved, not good enough; make me feel loved and good enough. Men say “I love you” and “you are beautiful” and “you’re more than good enough” a thousand times over, but it doesn’t matter. If it mattered, it wouldn’t need repeating and reproving.
I know, I know. It matters, ladies. Temporarily, at least.
It is as if women continuously push their men toward an obvious truth that needs to be finally acknowledged, which is: I’m undesirable, and you can’t love or want me. So, just admit it! Have an affair. Leave me for another woman, a prettier woman, and prove me right. Put me out of my misery, damn you!
Yeah, like, that’s attractive, ladies.
Like, that kindles and maintains a fire in the ol’ loins.
Like, men want to wake-up to shoveling women out from under their insecurities and miseries, and to the daily drudgery of reassurance and self-esteem building.
Like, it’s okay that you say, “Well, that’s just how women are made!”
Like, not.
Bottom line: men aren’t baggage handlers.
In fact, let’s reverse this phenomenon. How attractive are insecure men, ladies?
Yeah, that’s the point. Neither are you.
The difference is it’s expected of women, and tolerated.
How ‘bout some damn confidence, ladies?! Pretend if you have to, which should be easy given you’re the best actors on the planet.
What? You disagree?
Eh-hm. Exhibit A: red-faced and yelling, my wife can be blind with anger toward me. Were the doorbell to ring, she can walk to the door, open it, and immediately change into an entirely new persona. Smiling and bright, she’s suddenly Mary Poppins: “Hi, Becky! How are you? Girl, come on in!”
There’s not a trace of anger!
And as my wife and Becky transition into the sitting room, my wife, while sounding all sunny and bright, can secretly shoot me the most ghastly glare at the same time.
“Would you like something to drink, Becks?—death glare! Daggers-daggers!!”
It’s amazing!
Although the instantaneous and seamless Jekyll and Hyde transitioning concerns me, I have to admit admiring my wife’s control. And in fact, I don’t dare answer the door when I’m angry, because I’m a terrible pretender.
Becky takes one look at me and says, “Uh, is this a bad time? I’ll come back later.”
So, women are masters of make believe!
Respect, incidentally.
Thus, feigning some damn confidence ought to be a walk in the park for women. So try it, ladies. Stop with the unbearable self-consciousness. Forget about the appearance, the body, the image-related stuff. Women advise men not to try and be cool when interacting with women, and to just be themselves. Women should take their own advice and cease with the self-conscious politics.
Make believe you’re Jennifer Aniston or whichever beautiful celebrity women wish they could be these days. I think you’ll be amazed at, one, how well you adapt. And two, at how well men respond.
Accusation
Huge problem, ladies. Yuuge! Relationally speaking, every dispute is lined with an accusation. What does this mean exactly? It means, in spite of all the additional, inapplicable drama, every fight has a specific, baseline accusation. Fights erupt and turn into a buffet of issues, when in fact, there’s only one issue. It’s the accusation. Or, the real problem.
Disputes are about accusation, which takes the form of criticism, too, incidentally, and women level a lot more of both.
I wrote a chapter in my book entitled The Perpetual Villain. The basic point is: by virtue of the plentiful criticisms and accusations issued by their women, men are considered a relationship’s constant evildoer. Or let’s say, it’s implied.
Men are always doing something wrong—not saying what they’re expected to say, not saying something the correct way, not saying it often enough, not being “present,” not caring or doing enough, looking at other women, and, well, I’m only just beginning this extremely long list and am already annoyed.
Thereto, men can prove themselves loyal, considerate partners for decades. Yet even decades-in to a relationship, women readily issue criticisms and accusations as if their men have been everything but loyal, considerate partners for decades.
Basically, men are constant parolees in relationships. Entering the relationship they were decided criminals with long rap-sheets, and every moment since they’ve been under the watchful eye of their women, their parole officers, anticipating the next violation.
So then, do women respect their men?
Well, let’s see? Men are deemed villains, their every step monitored as if the next misstep is a forgone conclusion. This the undeniable premise, how is respect possible? It isn’t possible.
Villains can’t be respected. They’re villains!
Can you see how men might feel this way, ladies?
Further, I guess we can say it’s men, not women, who are actually being “disrespected.” Can’t we?
Why, I believe we can. Yes!
And then men grow tired of the disrespect, tired of being criticized and accused, and tired of visits to the parole office. Fully fatigued and justifiably annoyed, they leave the relationship, and women are shocked.
“What an asshole!” women say to their girlfriends, sobbing. Oh, I hear you girl! C’mere. I’m so sorry.
Really? Asshole? Seems to me the designation better suits the parole officers.
The point, ladies, is to change your perspective. Instead of employing the self-fulfilling, relationship sabotaging perpetual villain mindset to a man’s every word and deed, think: this man cares about me, wants the best for me, wants to take care of me, and wants to see me happy. And considering he keeps pawing at me, he obviously desires me, and perhaps I need to bang him harder and waaay more often—the last was to engender favor from men.
But seriously, you need to do it.
Again, reverse the roles in this perpetual villain phenomenon. Do women want men assessing their every word and behavior with a guilty first and proof of innocence required mindset?
Yeah, that’s the point. Men don’t like it, either. It’s tiresome.
So, no more accusing and criticizing. To control the accusing and criticizing, how about this novel idea: trust your men, believe them. It’s crazy, I know. But, give it a try.
Comparing your relationship to everyone else’s.
Who doesn’t want the best, most flattering image of themselves put forward? And so, that’s what people see. It’s what is behind the image; that’s what we’re interested in. Take Susan for example.
Susan is extremely attractive, gets all those goofy comments from men on social media for it, too: “You’re so hot!” “Yum!” Heart emojis and the like. The fact is, Susan is totally insecure. A cleansing of self-doubt, the photos and subsequent male praise are like dialysis for her.
Thereto, I want to say, Dudes. With those type comments, you literally have no chance—no chance at all. Now, were a man to respond, “You’re hot. But you’re not the hottest women I’ve ever seen.” Susan can’t wait to convince him he’s wrong.
Look, I didn’t make the rules, ladies. I’ve just read the rulebook.
Nevertheless, the relative point about Susan are the pictures she posts of herself and her men—her husbands, in fact. Well, ex-husbands.
The pair posing together for a selfie over an expensive lunch at an exclusive restaurant—the restaurant’s high-profile name clearly visible in the photo of course, which is part of the image-manufacturing process, incidentally—the caption underneath reads: “Me and the best man on earth having lunch at Del Quavos,” or wherever.
The Del Quavos menu not-so-inconspicuously worked into the selfie, you’d think identifying the restaurant twice wouldn’t be required. But hey, when manufacturing an image, it pays to be thorough.
Anyway, the visual message is: my man and my relationship are awesome! I’m living the high-life, one all you average daydreamers only wish you could live. Did you notice the menu, by the way? Del Quavos? You should’ve. I mean, I worked it into the post twice, for chrissake. So, aren’t you jealous?
And it’s amazing how many women are indeed jealous.
Next thing you know, the average daydreamers are upstairs glaring at their own men, who are watching the game. “We never go anywhere!” they say. “You never take me anywhere nice to eat, like, Del Quavos! All you do is watch sports!”
Only, here are the facts about Susan: she’s a nightmare to live with. Honestly? A total, self-interested, self-serving bitch. Several husbands and the court records prove it.
So in other words, Susan puts on a fake selfie smile—the uniform one, like the standing–slightly bent knee–hand-on-hip pose every woman not-so-naturally-or-uniquely assumes—and after snapping the picture, she instantaneously loses the fake smile and returns to being her normal, bitchy self. “Use your napkin, asshole. I swear, you’re such a rube … disgusted eyeroll.”
Next stop: divorce court. Susan wiping a tear, “Yes, your honor. He treated me like dirt, always talking down to me. It was … sniff, sniff … emotional abuse.”
The point is, all isn’t what it seems. I mean, it should be a dead giveaway that all isn’t as it seems considering people look a whole lot more attractive on social media than in person. So, stop the comparisons, ladies. Start living in your own sphere. Enjoy it. Nurture it. Protect it. It’s likely a waaay better environment in which to reside, anyway.
Put it this way: if everybody threw their problems, or in this case their so called “wonderful lives,” in a community pile where all could be examined, people would grab their own miserable lives and leave.
Love
Here’s the problem: women are defining what love means relationally. And if that self-serving standard isn’t being met by their men, then women consider themselves in loveless relationships.
And to the problem, here is a not so readily acknowledged fact: men and women express love differently.
For example: her children older and more independent, my empty-nesting mother with more time and less responsibility, was languishing—otherwise known as boredom. So, she wanted to work outside the home.
Now. In the first expression of male love, my dad—self-employed, working long days, and a man of considerable responsibility—wanted my mother to be well and happy. So, he approved of her getting a job. Concerned, encouraging, supportive—the approval is male love being, if inconspicuously, expressed.
In the second expression of male love, once my mother started working, my dad—again, an extremely busy man with considerable responsibility—had dinner cooked when mom came home from work. The consideration, inconspicuous though it is again, is yet another expression of male love. And there are many like examples.
In an example of how women don’t interpret male love, there’s this: Sosha and Rick had a big fight. Over what? Rick not showing Sosha enough attention. Sosha probably saw one of these broads on social media with such the “wonderful life,” and got her cheekies wedged too tightly. So, she started a fight.
It having snowed several inches overnight, Rick rose early the next morning—after sleeping on his side of the bed, incidentally—and shoveled the walk of snow, the driveway, and also cleaned Sosha’s car and warmed it up. Enter: Sosha.
Sosha, dressed to the nines for work in her stylish and for-the-occasion calfboots, marches out the door with briefcase and latte in hand. Chin insolently high, she strides defiantly down the shoveled walk to her waiting and cozy car and, on her way, ignores the frozen, red-cheeked and snot-nosed snow removal person.
And why did she ignore Rick?
Because, despite the red-cheeks and snotty nose on her behalf, Rick still wasn’t showing her enough attention. And yes—she got in her car, put it in drive, and roared angrily down the driveway.
Now, the difference between Rick and me is, when Sosha got in the car, and having ignored my strenuous and attentive efforts on her behalf, I would have thrown a heaping shovel of snow on her windshield. And as she tried to wiper it off, I would’ve thrown more. In fact, I would’ve feverishly tried to rebury the car.
But that’s me, not Rick.
Not saying a word, Rick likely did the wise thing because, at some point during her day, having fully and finally processed the morning events, Sosha probably felt guilty. Most assuredly, that works to Rick’s advantage, who was probably properly banged when Sosha came home.
Guilt sex. Now there’s an uninhibited romp.
With me, you process more quickly or your car gets feverishly reburied in snow.
Men don’t complain about not being shown enough attention by their women, or about not being loved sufficiently. And if they did, women would become nauseous for suddenly finding themselves in a lesbian relationship. Having to fulfill the female definition of love, and having to continually prove and to reprove their love, men are the ones constantly studying and learning the female language of love. They’re the ones always performing so as to not only meet the standards of love, but to prove themselves worthy of it.
Meanwhile, women couldn’t care less about the love language men speak. Women don’t burden themselves with such trivialities, which is why they can’t interpret the language, and never bother.
It’s selfish and inconsiderate, ladies, and I’d rebury your car in snow.
Sex is a problem in relationships because women make it a problem.
Incessantly pawing at their women and pining for sex, men certainly aren’t the problem. Women becoming lazy towards sex and politicizing it; that’s the problem.
Sexual laziness is one thing, which is much to do with plain old familiarity. But the politicization, now there’s a complex issue.
There are all sorts of reasons women politicize sex. Body image is one. Youthful and inexperienced, and their bodies tight and lithe and supple, women don’t have significant body image issues. Let the mileage accumulate, however, and with each critical look into the mirror, with each trip aboard the bathroom scale, and with each passing day measuring themselves against an impossible cultural standard of beauty, the issues emerge.
Or, the politics emerge.
For the politics, it isn’t long before the flaw-concealing benefits of absolute darkness become sexual protocol. It isn’t long before cuddling is outlawed, or at least strictly controlled, for fear men might feel women’s “problem areas.” It isn’t long before the cheeky and cleavage-inspiring tank-top hit the drawer for the more concealing and more emotionally comforting t-shirt and sweatpants. Thus, it isn’t long before women are offended by young women wearing cheekies and cleavage-inspiring tank-tops.
And finally, it isn’t long before women are disengaged sexually and, like actress Kirstie Alley, not wanting to have fat sex.
In other words, it isn’t long in a relationship before the sexual nightmare begins for men.
Of course, there’s all the associated diet business men have to endure, too, and don’t want to endure. The endless weight-consciousness. The caloric-counting. The endless goal-setting that never sees any actual movement toward the goal. The bingeing and guilt. The inconspicuous grazing to appear diet conscious, yet ultimately eating the same amount as always, only less-conspicuously.
Basically, food takes over the relationship. Women give more time and energy and attention to food, and to its punishing effects on their bodies, than—? Well, than anything! Women are consumed by it all. And never pleased with what they see, there certainly isn’t any time, energy, and attention paid to sexual theatre of any sort, certain aspects of which would actually burn calories and offset the punishing effects, incidentally.
Nevertheless, careers and children cause the further politicization of sex. Working women are too exhausted for sex. Not to mention guilt-ridden.
Guilt-ridden? You ask. Why, certainly.
With careers, and with ignored housework for those careers, women are neglecting their children and subsequently racked with guilt. And of course, dad—the inconsiderate asshole—doesn’t help out enough, which would serve to alleviate the workload and these awful feelings of neglect.
Does anybody assess dad’s contributions? Is anyone concerned about his stresses and workload? No. Wanting sex all the time, he obviously needs more to do. If he contributed as much as women, he wouldn’t want sex so much, and would totally understand the exhaustion and guilt.
And considering all of these politic issues, what do we have?
A political nightmare. And who’s responsible for the politics and the nightmare?
Not men. Although, it would certainly be argued.
So let’s assume women take responsibility for their, um, role in the sex problem. I could’ve straightly said, take responsibility for the sex problem, but I didn’t. Avoiding blame and suggesting shared responsibility—even though it isn’t—engenders goodwill and promotes a positive response. How strategic of me.
Nevertheless, women want to take responsibility and want to do their part. In terms of doing their part, here’s a fresh bit of news, ladies: when it comes to your men, it isn’t just about “doing your wifely duty” and the sex. Not by a longshot.
On virtually every idea relational, men are constantly short-sold by women. In other words, having no depth, men are the shallowest form of everything.
Inapplicable example: men can only care about and love women with flawless bodies.
Wrong. Men tell women over and over that they love them, and that they don’t care about flawless bodies. It just falls on deaf ears and has to be repeated.
An applicable example: all men want is sex; it’s purely about the sex.
Wrong. Way wrong.
It isn’t just about the sex, ladies. It’s about deliriously wanton eye contact—that reckless, lustful, won’t be denied look you render once or twice a month when, cyclically induced, you’re horny. It’s about being touchy—overly touchy, as in, Let me see what you have in there! It’s about lewd dialogue, and saying naughty things. It’s about pulling men into the laundry room just because, and jerking them off—Honey?! What’re you do … ? Are you sure we … ? Why, what’s gotten into you, dear?
And there’s usually towels in there, so …
It’s about pretending insatiability and sexual hunger. And yes, pretending. Fact is, unless you’re a nympho, nobody has sex on their mind so often so as to not have to sometimes pretend. And again, women are great at pretending!
The trick is to throw yourself into you role and to be convincing. Women want men to constantly make them feel desirable. Well, damn! When did men stop needing and deserving less of that? And why do you think men have affairs, anyway? Because some skank makes them feel desirable. That’s why.
C’mon! This is simple stuff.
I’m sorry ladies (meaning: I’m not sorry) but, everybody knows women, their bodies, and sex are the attraction. Thus, it’s your job to keep it hot, ladies, and you don’t have to be flawless, either.
Actually, keeping it hot presents the real problem for women.
A problem? You ask.
Oh yes. Most men don’t know how to respond to excessive, aggressive sexual attention. So if women keep it hot, they potentially subject themselves to nauseating phone calls from delirious men four and five times a day. Men are so accustomed to begging and to being denied that, when they’re properly and routinely and adventurously serviced, they get all sappy and goofy acting.
It’s something to consider, ladies. Else, you find yourself rolling your eyes and flaring your nostrils in disgust when the phone rings … for the fifth time:
Men all tender sounding: “Hey baby, what’re you doing?”
“Um, the same thing I was doing 20-minutes ago, dear … eyeroll, flaring nostrils.”
Anyway, in regards to pretending, here’s the idea for all those visual learners. Or should I say, here’s the proper attitude. Go ahead. Take a look, and go fullscreen. As usual, we’ll all! wait on you.
What? You don’t look like Izabel, you say? So … what? Not looking like her excuses the effort? Rather than criticize your men for appreciating the seduction, and rather than accuse them of enjoying it, how ‘bout making an attempt.
Instead of being so self-conscious and self-absorbed, and instead of manufacturing all the reasons men don’t deserve sex, women need to consider all these pearls I humbly offer. And here’s something else women might ponder: men could explain all this sexual business to their individual women verbatim—and everything else in this essay, for that matter. Although their men would be just as correct as me, hearing it from their men would piss women off.
Hearing it from me, however, women not only take note. They’re warm and welcoming to the ideas. And here’s the sad reality: I’m not wearing their wedding ring, or the father of their children, or the one they supposedly “love.” They’re pissed off at that guy for being honest, for trying to improve the relationship, for desiring them, and for being correct, for chrissake.
There’s something wrong with that.
Worse, pissed off at their men, women would start an unnecessary war. It would be several days of not speaking, several days of women walking around the house whistling happy, if unrecognizable tunes, pretending to be unaffected by the awkward and unnecessary silence that they provoked. And after the problem is finally addressed, women will ask men to apologize for their part in the unnecessary war women began!
And men’s part?
Again: being honest, trying to improve the relationship, and being correct, for chrissake.
There’s something wrong with that.
In regards to sex, ladies, cease with the politics and whistling. It’s pretty nice to have a man want you so badly, and to be so obvious about it. So, get in the game.
Just be prepared for the five-a-day phone calls.
Honesty and Communication
There is indeed a communication problem in relationships. It’s women; they’re the problem. Yet, who gets accused of poor communication, and is to blame for the same?
Men.
How convenient. How … consistent.
And by whom are men accused? The problem.
Isn’t that just terrific.
Women tell men they want more honesty from them, more open communication. Yet when women get the honest communication they supposedly crave so badly, they get their feelings hurt and turn nasty.
The result? Men cease with the honesty and communication.
Pretty simple, isn’t it?
Where it concerns their women and honest—read: direct—communication, most men live in a perpetual state of wariness. Why the perpetual state of caution? Because men are routinely criticized, accused, and berated for what they say. In other words, what men say has to be femininely filtered for approval.
And what is this essentially? Well, it’s certainly not open dialogue.
Ultimately, it’s communication control.
Women claim to want honesty from men, and more communication, but what they really want is for men to tell them what they want to hear in the way they want to hear it. The real culprit in these communication difficulties is feelings—women’s feelings, to be specific.
More emotional, women interpret things differently than men—profoundly different, in fact. Jostle those sensitivities the slightest bit, and the comment or idea gets interpreted as a personal attack, one that won’t be tolerated. Self-critical, and living in perpetual guilt, women are beyond quick to defense.
The answer to this problem, ladies? Pretend—which you’re great at, by the way—you’re a relationship counselor gathering information and getting to a problem’s baseline. A counselor, you disconnect yourself emotionally. You ask concerned and direct questions, and don’t feel one way or the other about the responses. A counselor, you don’t get your feelings in the way, and thus avoid retarding the answers and stifling the problem-solving process. A counselor, you listen and actually hear.
And then, having gathered the data, sequester yourself and do what you always do: process.
Communication descends into conflict because women get offended and hotly defensive. And of course, that happens so often that men would rather lie to spare themselves the grief, and not communicate with women at all.
Result? Poor communication and accumulating distrust.
Personally, I push through all these barriers to communication. If I’m in a relationship where I can’t be honest, and where I can’t then get anything productive accomplished, then that relationship is not only a prison, but a loser.
And I want out. In fact, I’m getting out!
Most men aren’t like me, however. They’ll stick around forever having their meals brought to them in their cells. Thus, if you want to refresh communications, ladies, you have to be the ones to advance the ball.
Stop thinking men have it out for you, and that they want to assault your feelings. Honesty is not an assault; it’s a cure. So open the cell doors. Encourage deep, unflinching honesty.
It will require some acclimation, certainly, but I think you’ll like the results.
***
So before I finish, one last point. Having read my latest manuscript, New Rules, my sister, staring significantly at me, said, “I want to tell you something about your book.”
I braced.
“It took alotta balls to right that book,” she followed. Then, nodding slowly for emphasis, “Alotta balls!”
Now. Given the book is honest, and given the information within is honest, too. Doesn’t the fact it takes “alotta balls” to be honest with women demonstrate a real problem? A real problem for relationships?
Further, aren’t the female politics a problem, too? I mean, women will read this essay and, as they have confessed about my book, will agree with the content. Yet, despite the substance being true and helpful, women won’t dare confess their consent to one another.
In other words, we’ve reached a state in gender relations where curative ideas can’t be acknowledged or championed for the source’s gender, and for the politics of image associated with feminist directives against that gender. Doesn’t that, too, demonstrate a real problem? A problem for relationships?
And then this: can you honestly say that your man is the type deserving of those directives, and the penalties?
Anyway, I’m tired of writing now. Not that I’m out of things to say. Quite the contrary. Nevertheless, good luck. Let me know what you think.
John Mark Warren 