Heard yesterday from my osteo (whilst I was being crunched and popped) that he has a friend who is, like me, a stop at home dad; interestingly he is working on a book provisionally entitled 'We've been conned'.
Apparently its central theme is that women have for ages conned us into believing that the job of doing the domestic work and childcare is very, very, very difficult, and that we as men are not up to it .... and he thinks it is a breeze ... grrrr !!
I'd love to see his day/house/loft/fridge/playroom/laundry as I suspect that he is in denial as well as quite possibly at war with his wife. Or maybe has a team of manservants (woman-servants?) on hand and London's finest concierge service. I'd especially like to hear his wife's assessment of his performance.
This seems to be a good example of that classic insecure over-achieving, over-ambitious 'can definitely do' 'deny every weakness' trait frequently exhibited by bottom-sniffing wannabe alpha males in corporate structures, such as the workplace he graciously resigned from to do the 'dadding'.
It's 2010 - turn your gaze to the city and look where that thinking has brought us - so many of these men definitely could not do what they were either convinced they could or were told they could ....
With more women at the helm would not the world be a slightly less greedy and bereft, but slightly more humane place right now ? Whilst far from a perfect sex, women just have a better way of getting the job done from what I have seen.
More harmony, soul, empathy, care, cooperation and foresight and forward motion; less bravado, less bullshit, less swagger, less dogma and definitely less misery.
My own personal experience is that househusbandry has been the most challenging thing I have ever done, topping my youthful ambitions and efforts to become a rockstar (minor success but then it's a very competitive area !) and building two of my own businesses (slightly better efforts). I can see the odd grey hair, and my nerves are shattered from the baby-toddler lack of sleep thing. My tolerance is all used up. I will never be the same. I am uncertain of what talents I possess anymore.
So, I happen to think that if someone has found a way to do it effortlessly they should keep their bloody trap shut or write a book about it so we can all judge their methodology for ourselves ... hence I will definitely be looking forward to the book he has planned hitting the shelves !;?
Ok .. Back to the point I am trying to make, I think it's time for all men to respect the women in their lives more, trust and appreciate the unique talents of their partners in humanity - not belittle them with competitive alpha-male nonsense like this example.
There is just a small chance that this way, the women they deal with may just respect and see more of the good in them, and then they'll no longer need to puff up their feathers in this insanely destructive way that takes us to war or to bankruptcy.
Men - Don't be afraid; admit it - you're bored with behaving like you're in the playground ! Open up and chill out a bit - find something to admit you're rubbish at, and get over your cocky selves !!
Somewhere between Cave-man and Metrosexual Moisturised Man there lies a happy path, where the woman you care about will still love you, want you and admire your unusual ways ....... and guess what ?
You're worth it !
Showing posts with label dad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dad. Show all posts
Friday, 19 February 2010
Monday, 5 March 2007
"night NIGHT !!!"
"night Night !!" .......... she said, but meant something else - "go to sleep you bad boy" ? ..... I try and ease myself into her head and mindset, instead of unwittingly and subconciously into her warm, still perfect body ......... oh fear of fears ! ........... and still, for several minutes more ........... I lie there trying not to feel resentment, to still feel loved for something other than being her cuddly toy, her domestic, nanny, skivvy, and even mangy cat to kick when things get shitty at work.
Oh Boy/Father/Man what-have-you (what are you now ?). Instead of counting sheep I try and recite the S.C.U.M. manifesto, but twently odd years of old-er (and-er, slightly more misogynist) ageing since living in pro-feminist communes has taken its toll on the old grey matter. Shame, as that would have taken it's toll on the old pink matter ! Job (would've been) done !
Then realise I have done this over and over, over the last six years, and for many, many more minutes than it would take to to do something more positive and .... new.
I decide that this 'new' should be to write something and through it try to find a better understanding of our relationship. Anything to change this numbing pattern of domestic non-resolve and bitter encumberment. Anything just to make it easier for tomorrow, yet another day more usually spent depleting our passion in a slow boil bicker.
I want and need a resolve, a finished process and article, even, that I can and will refer to many a time .. and perhaps one day refer my son to, or maybe more usefully, my daughter. Ho-hum, what grand designs.
I have to add that I am a fan of good communication and the improvements it can bring to any scale of relationship, personal or international - unfortunately my writing skills will not illustrate this, hence the need to point this out early on.
So ....
Why did she not even want me to touch her back, stroke her toasty bed-hot bum even ? I have been so very good for so very long, silently avoiding ever sex-pestering her, making sure her bath, my love, my affection, our children and house are all at a constant warmth.
Perhaps a fear of maybe ending up wanting me and the ensuing wrath of passion keeping her up too late ? Later than the two episodes of Spooks she watched tonight ?.... err, that she had already watched with me a month ago !? Doing it for a dangerous second time in the last four weeks ? Could that turn me or her into a dreaded sex-junkie ? Horror of horrors, how ever would the housework get done ! The once or twice a month when we do make love my heart sings for a day at least and it seems the whole world just snaps into place, the housework is a breeze - and so I think it has little to do with the few seconds of orgasm - which when self inflicted never has the same effect on my sense of well being. More the confirmation of our intimacy.
Would that shift our eternal power struggle too far in the Auld Enemy's favour ?
Instead of my total and cheery optimism making a slave of me to her corporate wage earning power, would surrendering to 'le grande lurv' risk making a slave of her to my 'libido' ..... ok, we can call it a penis here, can't we ?!?
After all, that is all she sees my deep and heart-wrentching sensual and erotic all-consuming creative love for her as .......... isn't it ? ...... something inconveniently hard, sticking out of a very soft body and shabby mind ..... that of an underling, someone not that often worthy of her respect, someone who has willingly given up his all and ended up with 'just' two beautiful children and a live-in divorce ? [Whenever I think of these children, it all seems so possible to put up and shut up, but I know one day they will leave, and we will be left with each other, so for now this writer will write !]
I read. I read a lot a lot of articles that give me hope ....... here's some that have spoken so much to me, like letters from Amnesty International would, if you were languishing in an archetypal Turkish prison.
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/article641298.ece
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/article656273.ece
A big shout out here has to go to Andrew Clover, whose musings in general, in his Dad Rules column, have given me much merriment and mirth and 'I am not alone-ness'. Would love to see his standup comedy.
I do have parent friends, so I am not strictly speaking alone, but (gosh, has that 'but' word ever sounded so harsh - and here, it shouldn't) they are all errr, well you know, all women.
They are great as in REALLY great people and friends - some have held my hand when I have twice thought I was having a breakdown, some have said the nicest things about the state of the domestic ship I run, one has even hugged me once when I was all soaking wet with tears and soggy face, thinking my Muse was leaving me and taking the kids with her (they'd look good in the office, I guess) ..... and this was in public in a car park at a Big Yellow Box depot, with her husband in the background probably wondering what the ***k was going on..... Some have told me they think my partner is a fool for not realising what a great bloke I am, and that if their partners were to do half of what I do they would be in line for regular sexual favours of a flavour I have long since forgotten the taste of ! - I blushed at this one, as something harder than flesh stirred in me simultaneously - Pride !!!! That felt new.
Some have said "Get used to it - she is a bloke !" (as she does typically bloke-insensitivity quite well, and they have witnessed it). Some have said 'tell her to get ***king real !' - a solid bunch indeed, when I talk to them, everything feels fine.
I know what you're thinking - but not once has anything ever happened of any kind of sexual nature with any of them - these women feel like sisters I guess (difficult to be certain as I am an only child).
While my young single male friends were busy freeing up disk space in their newest of new blackberry contact databases (as soon as I became Dad) these women so abley filled the gap that they taught me a thing or two about friendship, and they see me for who I am – so how come my partner is having such a hard time ?
I know she isn’t having an affair – I trust her.
I love her and find her incredibly attractive - would it be easier if I didn't ? If her looks had gone to ruin ? - Dunno, I think it is more the way she feels when she is next to me, and I spend a lot of time contemplating/fantasising about being sexually intimate with her (in all senses). I can't wait for her to get home at least half of the week ..... though it just never works out how I had hoped.
Enough for one night's sofa sitting,
Adios Amigos/Amigas
Oh Boy/Father/Man what-have-you (what are you now ?). Instead of counting sheep I try and recite the S.C.U.M. manifesto, but twently odd years of old-er (and-er, slightly more misogynist) ageing since living in pro-feminist communes has taken its toll on the old grey matter. Shame, as that would have taken it's toll on the old pink matter ! Job (would've been) done !
Then realise I have done this over and over, over the last six years, and for many, many more minutes than it would take to to do something more positive and .... new.
I decide that this 'new' should be to write something and through it try to find a better understanding of our relationship. Anything to change this numbing pattern of domestic non-resolve and bitter encumberment. Anything just to make it easier for tomorrow, yet another day more usually spent depleting our passion in a slow boil bicker.
I want and need a resolve, a finished process and article, even, that I can and will refer to many a time .. and perhaps one day refer my son to, or maybe more usefully, my daughter. Ho-hum, what grand designs.
I have to add that I am a fan of good communication and the improvements it can bring to any scale of relationship, personal or international - unfortunately my writing skills will not illustrate this, hence the need to point this out early on.
So ....
Why did she not even want me to touch her back, stroke her toasty bed-hot bum even ? I have been so very good for so very long, silently avoiding ever sex-pestering her, making sure her bath, my love, my affection, our children and house are all at a constant warmth.
Perhaps a fear of maybe ending up wanting me and the ensuing wrath of passion keeping her up too late ? Later than the two episodes of Spooks she watched tonight ?.... err, that she had already watched with me a month ago !? Doing it for a dangerous second time in the last four weeks ? Could that turn me or her into a dreaded sex-junkie ? Horror of horrors, how ever would the housework get done ! The once or twice a month when we do make love my heart sings for a day at least and it seems the whole world just snaps into place, the housework is a breeze - and so I think it has little to do with the few seconds of orgasm - which when self inflicted never has the same effect on my sense of well being. More the confirmation of our intimacy.
Would that shift our eternal power struggle too far in the Auld Enemy's favour ?
Instead of my total and cheery optimism making a slave of me to her corporate wage earning power, would surrendering to 'le grande lurv' risk making a slave of her to my 'libido' ..... ok, we can call it a penis here, can't we ?!?
After all, that is all she sees my deep and heart-wrentching sensual and erotic all-consuming creative love for her as .......... isn't it ? ...... something inconveniently hard, sticking out of a very soft body and shabby mind ..... that of an underling, someone not that often worthy of her respect, someone who has willingly given up his all and ended up with 'just' two beautiful children and a live-in divorce ? [Whenever I think of these children, it all seems so possible to put up and shut up, but I know one day they will leave, and we will be left with each other, so for now this writer will write !]
I read. I read a lot a lot of articles that give me hope ....... here's some that have spoken so much to me, like letters from Amnesty International would, if you were languishing in an archetypal Turkish prison.
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/article641298.ece
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/article656273.ece
A big shout out here has to go to Andrew Clover, whose musings in general, in his Dad Rules column, have given me much merriment and mirth and 'I am not alone-ness'. Would love to see his standup comedy.
I do have parent friends, so I am not strictly speaking alone, but (gosh, has that 'but' word ever sounded so harsh - and here, it shouldn't) they are all errr, well you know, all women.
They are great as in REALLY great people and friends - some have held my hand when I have twice thought I was having a breakdown, some have said the nicest things about the state of the domestic ship I run, one has even hugged me once when I was all soaking wet with tears and soggy face, thinking my Muse was leaving me and taking the kids with her (they'd look good in the office, I guess) ..... and this was in public in a car park at a Big Yellow Box depot, with her husband in the background probably wondering what the ***k was going on..... Some have told me they think my partner is a fool for not realising what a great bloke I am, and that if their partners were to do half of what I do they would be in line for regular sexual favours of a flavour I have long since forgotten the taste of ! - I blushed at this one, as something harder than flesh stirred in me simultaneously - Pride !!!! That felt new.
Some have said "Get used to it - she is a bloke !" (as she does typically bloke-insensitivity quite well, and they have witnessed it). Some have said 'tell her to get ***king real !' - a solid bunch indeed, when I talk to them, everything feels fine.
I know what you're thinking - but not once has anything ever happened of any kind of sexual nature with any of them - these women feel like sisters I guess (difficult to be certain as I am an only child).
While my young single male friends were busy freeing up disk space in their newest of new blackberry contact databases (as soon as I became Dad) these women so abley filled the gap that they taught me a thing or two about friendship, and they see me for who I am – so how come my partner is having such a hard time ?
I know she isn’t having an affair – I trust her.
I love her and find her incredibly attractive - would it be easier if I didn't ? If her looks had gone to ruin ? - Dunno, I think it is more the way she feels when she is next to me, and I spend a lot of time contemplating/fantasising about being sexually intimate with her (in all senses). I can't wait for her to get home at least half of the week ..... though it just never works out how I had hoped.
Enough for one night's sofa sitting,
Adios Amigos/Amigas
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