How feminism destroyed real men
Back in the Nineties, emboldened by the successes of feminism, women sought to slay the dragon of patriarchy by turning men into ridiculous cissies who would cry with them through chick-flicks and then cook up a decent lasagne.
Suddenly, women wanted to drive home their newfound equality by moulding men to be more like them.
This velvet revolution was reflected in a series of broader cultural changes. After decades of uncompromising movie heroes like Marlon Brando and Clint Eastwood, we were asked to fall for stuttering, floppy-haired fops like Hugh Grant; touchy-feely and hopelessly embarrassed around women.
No doubt at the time, millions of misguided single women thought that having a man who could feel their pain and emote for Britain was a Good Thing.
Now, over a decade later, women are waking up to the fact that these men are drippy, sexless bores. The feminisation of men hasn’t produced the well-rounded uber-males women were hoping for.
Instead, women are now lumped with flabby invertebrates, little more than doormats, whom they secretly despise but are too proud to admit it.
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I’m quite straight and quite married (24 years). While my wife is a terrific cook, she actually appreciates it when I take over for her in the kitchen (or on the grill) sometimes.
I learned to cook when I was a single guy in the 70s because fast food wasn’t all that much like food, and I later found that chicks actually liked that I could cook spaghetti/burgers/beef stew/etc. that actually tasted good. This doesn’t make me a “sensitive new age guy,” it means I’m smart.
That said, If guys want to be wimpy that’s OK. Just don’t blame women for it, and don’t turn “metrosexual” unless you’re really into that…
Who cares?? They’re 50% bitch and 50% Butch and 99% pig ugly. Better off not associating with them.
Mysogeny is alive and well…
That’s why I get laid regularly and you guys just bitch about women.
I consider myself fortunate that I’m unqualified to comment. Of course, like many here, that won’t stop me from doing do. Although I’ve co-habitated, I’ve never married, and have now reached an age where I consider my state of grand solitude an eminently desirable state. I was a grumpy old fuddy duddy before I actually became a grumpy old fuddy duddy, and I’ve never even met my sensitive side, at least not while sober. But I used to be a maudlin drunk, back when I did that sort of thing.