22 February 2014

A Female Reader's Experience with Women...


Some time ago, I got this e-mail from a female reader.  In it, she related an experience she had at work recently.  She's in her late 20s, happily married, loves pleasing her man, and she's aiming to break free of the rat race in the near future.  She's a Christian woman who's trying to survive in an increasingly wicked and hostile world.  Here's Ruth's (not her real name; I never use real names) e-mail, along with my reply to her.



I just got home from work and cruise night. All I can say is welcome to a man's world! I don't say that to be flippant; I say that because that is my reality-having to be careful what I say & do around women.

I was going to post on it, but in case someone from work ever stumbles upon my blog, the details give me away and I wanted to share it with someone in the blogosphere....so anyway....I was asked to stay late at work today and not having my guard upm I made the fatal mistake of saying, "I can't stay more than 30 mins. I have a husband at home to feed/take care of". Flew right out of me and sounds innocent enough.....HA! I said the magic words and flipped the feminist switch in my co-worker. She immediately said, "giirrrrllll don't talk like that, you don't have to feed anyone. He needs to realize that he can do these things for himself. He shouldn't be dependent on you. You'll learn that when you have kids that someday you just have to have cereal for dinner. I used to do that a lot....feed my family cereal for dinner and he never complained (proudly boasting). It then got very awkward. I said something like, "of course he can do these things for himself, but I WANT to do them". She didn't like that either, the fact that I still have this pesky nurturing/loving thing going on. I'm not supposed to want to take care of him. That is a big feminist NO-NO. The fact that women WANT to do these things, to think of someone other than themselves, baffles them.

Your story reminded me of a post I read on Eternal Bachelor long ago. He talked about this woman he worked with; her name was Claire. Like you, she was in her mid-late 20s and happily married. Like you, she wanted to and did take care of her man. The other women in the office chided her for this-UNTIL she got a huge bouquet of flowers delivered to her desk! Then, the women were all envious, wondering why THEIR men did not send them big bouquets of flowers. Well, duh! If you took care of your man like Claire took care of hers, then maybe they would!

Perhaps next time it would be best to simply say that you have stuff to do, and leave it at that. If these witches press you, then simply say that it's personal business. That should get 'em to back off. If they still press you, then bluntly tell them it's none of their business.

Oh, and I wonder how this feminist harpy colleague of yours would like it if her man decided that he didn't have to take out the garbage, kill bugs, check for things going bump in the night, etc.; ask her how SHE would like it if her husband took the same attitude. I have a sneakin' suspicion that she wouldn't like that very much. Women like this are all fine & dandy about shirking their duties, but woe to their man if he does the same thing! The hypocrisy is astounding...

All I could think of was had I not known better and had I been younger and more impressionable, I probably would have started to consider what she is saying. After all she is in her 50s, with grown kids, what do I know? BUT thank God, I can see through all that. I just think this is how it starts. How many other women are in situations like these and, not knowing any better, listen more to the co-worker than to the needs of her own husband? It was just so shocking, because I liked this woman.....she seemed reasonable....but gosh not now after I saw her true side, what she is really about. That's scary stuff. I have to be so careful what I say around women. They are like piranhas waiting to bite. By simply saying I need to make my husband dinner, or do anything for him, they immediately think that he is abusing/oppressing me. I have this bruise on my arm right now from being a klutz,,,and I actually worry about if some feminist crazed woman at work will notice it and say "how'd you get this"? When I worked the ramp, a woman there was bruised from working with the bags. She went to her doctor and the doctor suspected DV, became this huge old mess for her. It's just unreal. I can't trust or form any kind of relationship with women. How can you when you have to guard everything you say and when you can't make a very normal remark? Once again I am left with my head spinning with how deep the feminist problem goes.

Perhaps that's how the feminist BS starts, but what gets me is why young women never ask themselves if THEY want a marriage (or lack thereof) like their older, female colleagues have. Part of this tendency to go along is part of women's herd instinct; a woman would rather DIE than go against the consensus of her friends. If a gal, partiularly a young one, thinks that the herd has the opinion that your older, feminazi colleague has, then she'll adopt it. If a gal likes a guy, while her friends don't, then many women will dump the guy because he doesn't get the approval of her girlfriends.

Your story about the bruise reminds me of a story Hestia told me. I can't remember all the particulars, but her situation was similar to yours. She had an injury of some sort, and she didn't want birth control pills. Well, she was given the third degree about DV-even though her husband was on a tour of duty in Iraq! He was only on the other side of the world, and thus quite unable to inflict any DV; even if he'd wanted to (he doesn't), he couldn't have hurt her in any way, because he was thousands of miles away. The hospital personnel then said that she didn't need to be afraid; that she could tell the truth; and so on. They didn't want to hear the fact that her husband was thousands of miles away; they had their minds made up that it was DV; and that was that.

Hopefully, your colleagues won't notice the bruise. If they do, then be careful. Even if you tell the truth, your feminist minded colleagues will be inclined to think the worst anyway. That'd be especially true of Mrs. Harpy, the one who admonished you for wanting to treat your man right. Who knows what she'll do? Be careful-very careful! I say this as a man experienced in dealing with female colleagues.

I know what you say about the trust issue, because I ran into it too. Remember my telling the story about the woman I thought was a good friend, the one I asked out to lunch? Her reaction floored me, because I'd NEVER made a play for her, nor did I ever hint of doing so! I considered her a good friend, nothing more; she was the sister I never had. I still shake my head and feel hurt 11 years later.

I remember when I was new on that assignment, and I met this young college grad, Katie. I'd seen her in passing, so I talked to her. I could SEE the mistrust in her eyes, all because I was a man! I remember her saying that she had 60 pair of shoes-60 pair! I don't think I've owned that many in my entire lifetime. Anyway, she got all defensive because I tried to be nice, introduce myself, and talk to her.

I could tell stories like this for hours, Ruth. After a few experiences like yours, one gets paranoid-execpt in this case, they really ARE out to get you! You'll find yourself being more deliberate in your conversations around women after this; I know I am. Now do you understand why I was cautious about Maria?

I'm going to close this out. I and any guy could easily relate to the story you just told. Why? Because we've LIVED it ourselves! At least you're a woman; you won't automatically be assumed guilty like I would. I know some women, like Hestia, could tell stories too. Tell her your friend's story (the one who got bruised on the ramp), and see if she doesn't spill the beans on the hospital visit I mentioned above.

I hope that this helps you. The big thing (and I hate to say it) is to be VERY CAREFUL what you say around women, and men too. There are manginas out there, and they're just as bad as any woman, if not worse. You'll have to be careful around everyone, not just women. I wish I had something more profound to say, but I don't. Have a good night, and I hope things work out well...



Kimberly's Lament said...

Hey Mark,

I have a story to add, back when I was single and just happen upon the Manosphere(2008)I can remember talking to a couple of women and stating to them my desire to get married, the two women bitched about how husbands are worthless. Even then I knew the only thing that was worthless was them and their attitudes. I'm happily married FYI. To a husband that I take care of and a husband that takes care of me. Luckily the people I'm around don't hold such ideas, and if they do, they keep them quiet.

We create our own world. We choose our poison. There are days when my husband and daughter don't get a hot meal on the table, more than I would like to admit. But never in my mind would I think it as a proud moment. If anything I'm embarrassed and never talk about it. Anyway, I wish more women could see the lies of feminism and the destruction that it creates.


Kimberly's Lament said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Anonymous said...

Hang in there Ruth. Don't lower your standards to that of "lesser people" whom the Holy Bible calls fools. We all will have to face Jesus on Judgement Day, not our co-workers.-Norm

Eric J Schlegel said...

Marky I love your blog, but could you PLEASE change the background from black to something else? It bothers my eyes when I try to read your writing, especially when you go to the Red Font.

MarkyMark said...


Congrats on the happy marriage and the daughter! No one deserves it more than you...


Anonymous said...

I feel for Ruth.

My husband and I both work full-time to get by.

We both work in relatively labor-oriented fields, where we each receive occasional injuries.

Nobody asks about it when he gets hurt.

I work in a kitchen, where I often sustain burns, cuts, and bruises (from putting away stock or from 40+ lb. boxes falling on me).

People tend to be overly concerned when I'm hurt. I understand that there's a reason for others to worry when they see an injured woman. But it annoys me, because I am strong. I'm up, walking around, bearing what one of my fellow chef friends affectionately calls a 'battle wound', for a reason. I am not so weak as to need to be inquired about.

I may be a little woman, but I wish that some well-intentioned folks could respect that beneath the small frame, I am tough as can be. Perhaps if they knew what I do for a living, they'd be more apt to worry about my husband! lol.

Anonymous said...

Oh so familiar! I work with a pack of females, and they are friendly and smiley on the outside, but I am VERY guarded with what I say to them. The only one I can really be open with is my newer trainee--in her 50s, devoted Catholic, and shares my beliefs about family--and I only speak with her when all the others have gone for the night. I have to go back to work soon (part-time, thankfully, and we've worked the schedule so that the munchkin will stay home with his Daddy or my mother) but we are doing everything we possibly can to get me home soon and permanently. Only my (male) immediate boss knows this, however; if I let it slip to the others, who knows what nonsense I'll have to start deflecting. Most of the others are married, but they VERY much see the roles of wife and mother thru the manure-coated feminist lenses they wear.

On the injury note, it seems from these ladies' experiences that I got off easy back when I threw stock on the overnights. I guess enough people understood what I did that nobody said anything when po' widdle me got a boo-boo. *rolling eyes* Although, I do remember one time I had trouble because of a burn at home. I was draining a huge pot of pasta, and that was probably the ONE day all year that I'd actually worn a pair of shorts. Of course the water spilled all down my legs. I called my husband at work and asked him to please stop at a pharmacy on his way home and get me some burn cream. He arrived home so concerned about the grilling the pharmacist had given him, as to whether my burn was HIS fault, that I called the store, asked to speak with the pharmacist, and tried to set the record straight lest things escalate further. Yikes. Can't imagine if I'd actually had to go to urgent care...

And sadly, I even had to address the issue with my sister. When I was younger, my "uniform" was inevitably T-shirts and jeans, partly because of what I did and partly because I didn't have time or money to shop for anything else. Eventually I transitioned to wearing skirts much of the time, often with long-sleeved blouses. MY OWN SISTER later (not at the time--oh no, that would have made too much sense) told me that she suspected I might have changed what I wore because I was covering up DV injuries! I knew my sister was an ardent feminist, but I never suspected it had poisoned her mind to that degree. Insidious, insidious stuff...

--Sarah, (temporarily!) in the cube trenches