20. Man. 

Within patriarchal societies, a man is expected to be this strong, masculine, protective figure, essentially.

From childhood young boys are told to toughen up, not to cry, that they will one day be “the man of the house”, be interested in sports and trucks and swords and violence or other things that you’re encouraged to partake.

Hit the girl you like, run away if she likes you back.

See how far your disruptive behaviour can go before you make the teacher cry.

Don’t talk about your feelings, never talk about your feelings. Feelings make you weak. Boys don’t cry. Only girls cry, girls are weak. They are fragile. Protect them. Break them. Play with them.

Be the breadwinner in your future home, if your wife makes more than you, you are doing something wrong.

Spoil her, but make sure she knows it’s YOUR money. Give her love and affection, but not in front of the boys,

they can’t know you like the woman you married.

Make jokes at her expense. Tease her. It’s just a joke. It’s just a game. Why does she take everything so seriously? Why is she not as fun as the person I met way back when? 

Society tells women to dress a certain way, look a certain way, act a certain way. 

Men are told that they should expect and they deserve this blueprint of the perfect woman. When she no longer fits those standards, he will find someone who does. 

I want to have kids, I want to have a wife. 

I don’t want to be a father or a husband.

I want mini me’s, people I can partially raise to be who I want them to be. If they’re not that, why would I give them my time? 

I can’t communicate my feelings so I feel empty and broken inside, I’m going to grab a few drinks with my mates.

Stumbling home, drunk, agitated and alone, I spot a young woman. I deserve her, my wife doesn’t give me the attention I want.

She will give me what I want (He will forcibly take it. Not taking in mind that she is a person). She isn’t a person. Not to him. She is an object for his desire.

Every woman that exists, if he deems her beautiful or worth looking at, she then becomes the object of his desire. 

Most of the boys cheer, how bad could it be? 

He left out a few details but.. that’s not for them to know. 

I hate my life, everyone else needs to fix what is wrong with me. 

The women in my life need to fix me. 

The men don’t know how to.

I don’t know how to.

Someone take me, a full grown man, and make me whole. 

I will take the energy from the women who love me until they can no longer give anymore. 

At that point I will blame them for giving up on me. When I never tried, nor even thought, to work on myself. 

Men don’t cry. Men don’t play with dolls. They don’t need to learn how to cook outside of the basics. They don’t need to clean up after anyone but themselves. 

A woman must cry. A woman must play dress up with baby dolls and do their makeup. A woman must make the Christmas dinner and clean up at the end of the meal while the men drink beer outside, “watching” the children. 

I punch a hole in the wall to make sure you know how hard I would hit you.

I shout to make you feel small. I push you down to remind you how weak you are. I am strong. I am masculine.

I will protect you from other men, so long as you don’t dress in what drew me to you.

I cannot protect you from myself. But I love you. You cannot leave. 

I will break you, beat you, hold you, bully you, love you, torment you, be your safe space and that which you cannot fully trust.

For that is all I know how to be. 

-Man.