Friday, January 10, 2020

Standards Of Living Beings

My nightly velocity wave.

One of my least favorite traits is my incessant drive to constantly examine my immortal soul. I hate self-reflection yet participate in the dissection on a minute by minute basis. I’m always facing my sins. This self-critique is quite difficult. But I can’t seem to get out of the loop.

Today I realized something about myself. I realized I hold men to a different standard than I hold women.

I’ve always prized women as my closest confidents and companions. I was raised by an extremely confident and principled woman. My Mother stands on two feet – apologizes only when she’s wrong – and compromises only when a conviction is absent. She is morally and ethically cement.

Throughout my youth, my masculinity had been questioned because I shared such an affinity with the female sex. My sexuality was questioned because I seemed more comfortable in the company of women than I seemed surrounded by men. Recently I discussed this with a childhood friend. I told him that I felt comfortable around women because my best friend was a woman. I spent my childhood at the heel of my sister Carol. Carol was – and remains – a confident and principled woman. She taught me insights into the female mind. As a teenager, I knew their basics. Women enjoyed my company because I could empathize or – and this is unique - LISTEN to their concerns and thoughts and emotions.

So, I’ve never considered myself a misogynist.

Upon self-interrogation I think I’m a misandrist.

I despise a man who lacks the courage of conviction. I hold a man who refuses to define a principle in contempt. I abhor a man who rejects a declarative sentence. I’m disgusted by men who are pliable. And for the love of God it takes self-control to keep my fists in my pockets when I watch a man slather. I feel honest to Christ disdain when I encounter a man who refuses to defend his doctrines. I fucking hate a coward. I’m honestly intolerant.

And yet I feel nothing even close to those emotions when I encounter passive or submissive women.

And I don’t know why.

Do I hold men to too high of a standard?

Do I hold women to too low of a standard?

I don't know. But I don’t judge it the same.

I’ve always thought men and women were parallels without precedence. My parents define an equitable relationship. They are a truly quintessential partnership. I’ve never considered either the “leader.”

Yet I hold men to higher standards. I expect more of us. I did not type I expect less of women.

But I require men to be more. And I don’t know why.

No comments:

Post a Comment