Tag Archives: MARRIAGE

MONOGAMY SAVED MEN, NOT WOMEN

Being in the poly community, it’s common to hear men say, “I want multiple wives.” Even before I became poly, men often said it to make themselves seem more masculine or like they could get all the bitches. For decades, men minimized the responsibility of having multiple wives to only meet their sexual desires. But when those very same men were asked if they could afford those wives, they often went silent. 

History Lesson: In ancient times and even in the animal kingdom, only the richest, strongest, and most powerful men had multiple wives. For centuries, it was a man’s responsibility to take care of the woman, be it his wife, mother, sister, or daughter. Sure embedded in that ideology was tons of misogyny, but no woman would go hungry if a man were around. Because women always outnumbered men, sometimes 4 to 1, how was it possible for every woman to be taken care of? This was the real reason for polygamous unions; it was for every woman to have a husband, NOT for every man to have multiple wives. 

A man was able to acquire as many wives as he could financially provide for. And, since wealth often remained with the rich and powerful, those who lacked the finances often found themselves without or lusting for female companionship. 

I’m certain some ancient-time-INCEL got on his angry soapbox in the middle of the town square and screamed at the top of his lungs, “Give me a woman, or I’ll start blowing shit up!” And some lower-ranking man of the kingdom said, “Fine, you can have my mistress, just don’t blow up the town.” This was often how women were used in olden times, as bartering chips. Do you really think a princess and prince separated by oceans married for true love? Do you really think they wanted the consummation of their marriage to be seen by all of the royalty? Do you really think she enjoyed the pressure to give her husband a male son to solidify their union? Silly Rabbit!!!

With that INCEL throwing a tissy-fit, we began seeing monogamy. Monogamy became a way for men with meager means to find a spouse and create a lineage of their own. Men whose trade was a welder could pass down his name to his children, thus making the Welder family. Yes, more often than not, people’s last names were nothing more than their profession. If your last name is Taylor, it’s highly likely your ancestor (or, in the case of many brown bodies), your ancestor’s owner was probably a tailor. Your last name is Miller, then you probably had someone harvesting wheat in the past. 

So, how are we now at a place where men of meager means feel they have the ability to get and/or expect multiple wives? It’s a combination of patriarchy and feminism. 

You see, feminism and feminist ideals arrived out of necessity. Remember that, for centuries, women were 100% attached to a man. A woman needed a man for everything, but what would happen if that man no longer existed. If her father died, her brother, husband, and son, who was she, and what value or influence did she have? An unmarried woman was considered a bitch to the societal norms. But, as women continued to outlive men and meager men could now choose a bride, some women weren’t chosen. The unmarried women left had to but push for change, get jobs, and fight for fairness. (Keep in mind black women had already been working the entire time, so this new push is extremely white-centered). But that was the ideals of feminism, fairness, and equality. If I had to work, I wanted to be paid the same. 

Somehow though, this desire for fairness was met with opposition from both men and women. Some women couldn’t understand why others didn’t want to follow the tradition. What do you mean you don’t want to experience morning sickness, gain 30-40lbs, having your vagina stretched wide, and risk postpartum-depression? Being a mother is amazing! While men didn’t want women monopolizing their space. And those men who suffered the earliest influx of women went out of their way to make them feel insignificant or sexualized in the workplace. Patriarchy (white-patriarchy) is the fucking devil. So, the narrative became, women who wanted independence outside of a man was the enemy. “You don’t want to get married and have my babies? Fine. Do everything yourself then.” As if wanting my own, in case of emergency, was code for I don’t need you for anything. (Venus Vs. Mars).

So, why do some men feel that they have the right to possess and/or want multiple women? Because both men and women are dumb as fuck and refuse to learn their history.

I blame women because we often fall victim to the status-quo of yesteryear. The ‘every woman needs a husband’ theory still holds true in many households. They often forget the LBGTQ+ community, those that don’t want to get married, and those who prefer quality over quantity. All that matters is that there’s a man present. Growing up in the city, I saw it all the time. Women so determined to have a man in the home, they cared not for his character. He could cheat, be an alcoholic, abusive, and not provide financially. But as long as he had a dick, he could stay. Being able to say “I got a man” meant everything, regardless of the fact that he was a shitty-man.

I blame men because some women allowed them to feel empowered, and they ran with it. Even the good men stood by and cheered them on. (Complacent ass-holes). He was able to go around and fuck other women and make babies outside of the home. But as long as he came back that night or the next night or next week, he was welcomed with open arms. He knew that the odds were in his favor. Remember, women outnumbered men, sometimes 4 to 1. Take that same percentage and focus it on black and brown communities, the ratio almost doubles. Leaving men the ability to get away with damn-near anything. 

Monogamy saved y’all asses. Women of yesteryear dealt with bastard (children born out of wedlock) because they were married to the King or Duke or whatever. He had more than enough money to go around. But you men of meager means need to take a seat and keep your dick wrapped up. Don’t go chasing water-falls, then complain when it gets too choppy. Stick to the rivers and lakes that you’re used to. Because if it wasn’t for monogamy, you’d be getting no pussy!

THANK YOU. I LOVE YOU. I WILL MISS YOU

On Friday, I got the call from my mom that my father passed; I didn’t know how to feel. I know how I should feel, but the reality is “that” feeling feels ingenuine. I remember seeing my father a total of two times, once when I was 18 and the other time, last year at my cousin’s wedding. You see, my father left before I turned one, and when he reached out to me later in life, the time apart had done so much damage the bridge couldn’t be rebuilt. 

We would talk on the phone on occasion; he would see how I was doing and like my Facebook pictures from time to time. But, the interactions lacked depth. So, when I got the call that he was dead, there was a short reset and sensation similar to an ache, but not quite. 

I’ve never been the cry right then type of person. When my grandmother passed, I didn’t cry until we were at her funeral. With one look at my crying uncle, I could no longer hold it together, and all the tears fell. All the memories of the times we shared came flooding back. And I realized that I would never get to see her again. My family would never go over to her house for the holidays. I would never braid her hair, and I would never get to hear her curse out her home-health-aid. I would miss all the memories, and I would forever miss what could have been. 

But, with my father, there are little to no memories to reflect upon. When I saw him when I was 18, I was a moody adolescent with an attitude because he left in the first place. When I saw him again, in my thirties, I just enjoyed the moment. With less than twenty-four hours worth of memories and a lost future of what could have been, I sat down in the tub last night during my shower and tried to find conjure up the emotions society said I was supposed to feel. Mixed with the steady stream of hot water came crocodile tears, followed by a day-long headache. 

I posted a picture last night on my Instagram and Facebook. It was a picture taken at my cousin’s wedding with my mom and father; we all looked happy. That day we laughed, danced, and ate, and when the night was over, we talked about visiting him in North Carolina. Other family problems happened, then COVID happened, and before I knew it, he was gone. Below the picture was messages of condolences and prayer emojis from various friends and followers. I appreciated every one of them, but I couldn’t help but wonder if they felt worse for me than I did for myself. 

Last night my brother and sister-in-law called me to express their condolences; this was interesting considering my brother actually spent more years getting to know my father than I did. We laughed about it, but the truth of the situation stung a bit. I know he left for a good reason, but I’d be lying if I said I totally understood. I’d be lying even more if I said I forgave him for it. 

Holding onto that grudge won’t change the fact that my father is gone, and he won’t ever be coming back. There will be no more calls to make or receive. I’ll never see him like a Facebook post. And he’ll never get to attend my hypothetical wedding or meet his hypothetical grandchild. 

Another thing I realized is that the news of death comes in waves. The first wave acknowledges death; it’s the heavy feeling in your stomach that first weighs you down. The second is missing; missing the person and the memories of them. But the last, which is the one I always feel, is the feeling of regret. I always wish that I had done more. Could I have called more? Could I have texted more? Could I have visited sooner? When my grandmother passed, I saw her a week before, and we spoke often; but I still felt regret and wished that I had done more.

Death sucks. Getting the news that someone you know, love, or care for died sucks. Wishing you had done more while they were alive sucks. And knowing that you’ll never get the chance to do things over, or better, sucks. My father wasn’t a perfect man, but he was my father, and I wouldn’t exist without him. So, I have to thank him for contributing to my existence. I have to thank him for loving me from a distance. And I have to thank him for trying. 

Thank you. I love you. I will miss you.

Oh, I fogot to tell you- I’m married. (Part 1)

MARRIED HEADER-01

For the life of me I may never understand or comprehend men or women that get married and decide to have an affair. For the purpose of this story, let me further clarify what I mean.

  1. The “Honest” cheater: The men that openly wear their wedding ring and cheat with women that simply don’t care that they are married.
  2. The “Same Time Next Year” cheater: The men that engage in affairs with married women. (Same Time Next Year is a movie about two married individuals that meet up at the same time every year to have an affair over the course of 20-30 years- a very good movie and a must watch)
  3. The “Whoops!” cheater: The men that truly slip up and fall into another woman’s vagina.

I’m talking about the “Messy” cheater: The men that set up online profiles, with a single status, and relationship goals listed as; dating, long term, and marriage. This cheater is the scum of the earth cheater. This cheater should have his balls cut off and put into a meat grinder. This cheater I have met on two different occasions, that I am now sure of, and this post is all about my encounter with The “Messy” Cheater.

I first started talking to V_OKC in the beginning of 2016. He messaged me one day and we spoke on and off for about a week or two. We finally exchanged numbers and made a plan to meet up on Sunday afternoon for coffee. He texted me to say he wanted to reschedule, which was fine as I had just finished a long run and just wanted to stay home and relax. We said we would reschedule sometime in the near future – this never happened but the blame is on both he and I.

Almost 6 months later he contacts me again on OKC. I just ended a “dating-ship” with another gentleman so I wasn’t in the best of spirits. When he messaged me I was more blunt that I would have been, had I never spoke to him before. I was in the “no time for games mentality – come correct or don’t come at all”. He explained that he had lost his phone and my contact etc. So myself, being optimistic and attracted to him, decided to give it another try. We spoke for about a week via text and on the phone, morning, noon, night, essentially all the time. In my mind I’m thinking; could this actually result in a positive ending? He worked in building management, lived on the upper east side, in his mid 30s, no kid, and down with the swirl. We agreed to meet for cupcakes on a Sunday afternoon; I met him at Two Little Red Hens. He was already there waiting for me and when I walked in I knew him immediately. He was gorgeous! Nice skin, clean shave, and short hair, deep brown eyes, and nice lips. He got up to give me a hug and his arms were just the right amount of muscles for his body. He got on line with me and purchased my cupcake (chocolate blackout) and latte and we sat back down.

We talked about everything: education, politics, differences in our cultures, (he’s from Albania), food, music, and the time flied by. I was so happy to finally be on a date with someone I was physically attracted to and that didn’t scoff at a $5 latte. He had a career, no kids, we had similarities, and he lived near me- how much better could it get? We sat there for what might have been 4-5 hours talking, it was dark out and the place was closing so we walked to his car. We got in and sat and talked some more. He asked if he could kiss me and even though I said yes, my mind was thinking what took you so long? The kiss was perfect: hot and passionate, just like I like a kiss to be. We stayed in his car kissing for almost an hour and then we realized it was almost midnight, so he drove me home and kissed me as I exited. The next morning conversation went the same as before. Good morning texts, afternoon texts, evening calls all lengthy and in depth. We spoke about past relationships, dating, friends, hobbies, and ideal relationship goals, sex, and fantasies. Nothing in our conversations and exchanges gave me any red flags; this went on for about another two weeks. Then suddenly I stopped hearing from him.

Now, you should know this about me; some women think their man or a guy they’re seeing is always cheating on them. If he doesn’t answer his phone or a text or is 5 minutes late he’s with another woman. My mind does not work that way. I know that both men and women cheat but they are not all cheaters. So when I didn’t hear from him I honestly thought, like last time, he lost his phone or as with other previous experiences, he lost interest. But I gave it a few days because I really like this guy and I wanted to give the fantasies in my head time to become a reality.

The fantasy of us cuddling and kissing on the couch, the one where we’re walking down the street from dinner, the one where we’re both exhausted from passionate love making and in each other’s embrace. It all could have been a reality if I just have faith. But I grew impatient and gave him a call.

To my surprise, he answered. I don’t give him more than 30 seconds before I dug in. “Why haven’t I heard from you? What happened? We had a good first date and talk for weeks then you disappear- what’s your issue?”                                                                      There was a pause – and then his reply came.                                                                               “I know- I do like you and I want to keep getting to know you. But I forgot to tell you I’m married”

HOW THE FUCK DO YOU FORGET THAT YOU’RE MARRIED??

In that moment, standing in the all white bathroom of my former job, I saw nothing but red. Had he told me in person, I might have punched him, very hard, in the face. He tried to smooth it over by saying again that; he really liked me and even worse, still wanted to get to know me… HOW SWAY?? I told him to lose my number and forget he ever met me.

Now some of you might say it was a blessing that I didn’t do anything with him or whatever. But the damage was already done. I am one of those females that, depending on the vibes I receive, my emotions will grow. I start to visualize a near future; first romantic dates, then intimacy, then a romantic relationship. The problem with that is, when the reality hits me that all the romantic possibilities I hoped for will never become a reality that fantasy world comes crashing down and with it some of my heart.

Part 2 Next Week