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The basic African male psyche towards women is;”I don’t want to understand women,i want to love them”! Period!

So,bring back the real men, girls.

You might just
remember why you loved them in the first place!

Women thought the last victory of equality was to
make men more ‘sensitive’.

The bitter irony, says this
male writer in a piece that will infuriate the opposite
sex, is women don’t like
wimps after all…

At a dinner party recently, I encountered the
depressingly familiar sight of a dynamic thirty-
something woman accompanied by a wuss male
sidekick that she’d browbeaten into proposing to her.

The mismatch in power was obvious.

She was
successful, ambitious and confident; he was a
diffident, overweight, shrinking mess who measured
every word he spoke in case he said anything
remotely contentious that might offend her.

On her wedding finger was the most enormous,
glittering engagement ring.

A mutual friend later told
me she’d initially been presented with a less garish
but more exquisite diamond but had told her fiance
to return it to the shop and get her something
bigger,off course with her money this time.

That huge diamond was his declaration of surrender
in the sex war.

But I didn’t feel sorry for the stupid
sod; he should have been man enough to tell her to
get lost and find some other dummy.

Instead, he’d been sucker-punched into a lifetime of
nagging and neglect, and looking at his bossy wife-
to-be parading her huge rock, I felt a shiver of pre-
emptive empathy for him.

Her smug smile might have given the impression
that her glossy-magazine-inspired life was all going
to plan, but I could see the tragedy to come.

One day she’ll realise how dull and un fulfilling it is to
have a man who doesn’t answer back, who offers no
challenge or danger – but by then she’ll be over the
hill and stuck with him for fear of being left on the
shelf.

Sadly, this is the state of many marriages and relationships
today.

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 spaghetti dinner for them.

Suddenly, women wanted to drive home their
new-found 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 them 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 soft 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.

Rather than partnership, professional women tend to
seek dominance in a relationship.

They map their
lives out early on and pursue their dream of ‘having
it all’ with cold-blooded ruthlessness.

Young women have a crystal-clear agenda: they want
the career, the wardrobe, the smartly furnished
house, the 4×4 and the cute kids they’ll ferry in it to
expensive schools.

No man is going to get in their
way; and the men they choose for themselves are
pliant and feeble enough to facilitate that
programme.

Concentrating so much energy on work and family
matters requires these women to pick a man who is
predictable and secure, who won’t upset the apple
cart by pursuing dreams and instincts of his own.

These are cardboard cut-out men who gush with
empathy whenever their wives and girlfriends need
to dump their professional stresses and female angst
on them: weak and soulless men who haven’t the
guts to make a mark themselves, who take the
passenger seat in their women’s juggernaut journey
to post-feminist Nirvana.

But having ticked off the various items on their life
checklist, women are left with a nagging sense of
dissatisfaction.

Where was the drama?

Where was the passion?

Where was the stimulation and growth?

It was all forsaken for a narcissistic, materialistic
shopping spree that is a Good Thing, ultimately a
poor substitute for a real life.

These women consider
themselves to be alpha-females, but they are nothing
but a pathetic sham.

A true Amazon couldn’t stand the company of a
supplicant male, let alone marry one.

Real alpha-women are the ones who can more than hold their
own with an alpha-man.

Deep down, women love men who stand up to them,
who won’t be pushed around.

They love men who will
look them in the eye and tell them to shut up when
their hormonal bickering has become too much.

They love men who will draw a line in the sand and
walk out on them when they’ve had enough.

They love men who know their own minds and are man
enough to stick to their guns.

I’m always telling my partner to
shut up.

She gets into a prissy huff about it, but I
know she respects me for not indulging her
neuroticism.

Long ago, I realised it is unhealthy for a
man to embroil himself in arguments with women.

While men want an argument to make sense and
have a rational conclusion, women solely want the
argument itself: it’s a pressure valve for their
emotions, and once they get started there is no
stopping them.

I have a very low boredom threshold; I can’t bear
having protracted discussions about where my partner
and I ‘are going’.

Nor can I bear to listen to the
gossipy, highly detailed ‘He said, she said’
monologues that women drift into when telling you
about their day.

I deal with these elements of the female personality
with impassive indifference.

People might call me a
sexist pig, but I am the opposite.

I love women, and I
love my partner because she is brilliant and incredibly
strong.

I am a true male feminist, because I only want to be with a
powerful and capable woman.

No sexist could cope
with having a partner as intelligent and independent as
mine.

Our relationship would never have worked had I been
a Feminine Yes Man, desperately wanting to
sympathise with the female condition.

My partner would have grown to loathe me for my
fawning cowardice.

She is a warrior and she needs to
be with someone who is a match for her.

Knowing the limits of what I will deal with in a relationship, I
maintain my self-respect and, accordingly, gain hers.

Men are now generally terrified of women.

They hold their tongues for fear of being misinterpreted as
sexist; they constantly attempt to second guess their
partner in order to avoid giving offence.

They preen themselves with groaning shelves full of
beauty products so they won’t incur derision and
scorn.

They suppress their masculinity and present
themselves as cuddly Mr Nice Guys, and won’t
project self- confidence in case it’s regarded as
unreconstructed machismo.

This backfiring feminist conspiracy has, of course,
developed hand in hand with the march of raging
political correctness in elite and middle-class Africa.

The two have
combined like some potent chemical reaction to
explode in the faces of a generation of women who
thought that a ‘moulded’ man would make for a
desirable one.

In recent years, men have been trained like circus
Lions to be inoffensive to women, and no longer know
how to entice them and turn them on.

But women secretly long for a man with swagger,
who is cocky and self assured and has the cheek to
stand up them and make fun of their feminine
foibles.

They long for the rakish charm of a man who knows
there’s a whole ocean of fish out there, who isn’t
afraid of being himself in case he is rejected.

The truth is, a real man doesn’t care what any
woman thinks of him.

He doesn’t care what anyone
thinks of him: he answers solely to his spirit.

Real men don’t pretend or even try to understand
women.

They simply love them for being the
mysterious, capricious creatures that they are.

And they don’t take them too seriously, either.

They know
the vicissitudes of the female mind, its constant
insecurities and the fluctuations in mood.

Rather than pander to them, they simply watch them
drift by like so many clouds on the horizon.

They don’t get entangled in a woman’s feelings and listen
to her prattling on and on until she’s talked herself
out.

Such strong and stoic men are exactly what
women need to anchor themselves amid the chaos of
their emotions.

Sometimes my partner bemoans my detachment and
laissez-faire attitude to our relationship and wishes I
were more wrapped up in her.

I tell her she would
soon get bored of it, because men who put women on
a pedestal can’t make love to them in the way that
women want.

A man who is too in awe of his woman isn’t going to
tear her blouse open and ravish her on the couch; he
isn’t going to pull her hair and whisper profanities in
her ear.

Whenever my relationship is at a crisis point,
and my wife’s ego and mine are jostling for a position
of supremacy, we inevitably have strenuous, battling
sex.

My partner is more successful than I am, but
the bedroom has always been the arena in which I
have brought her down to earth.

The female orgasm is the natural mechanism by
which men assert dominion over women: a man who
appreciates this can negotiate whatever difficulties
arise in his relationships with them.

Last Christmas, my partner threw me out after
alleging I’d been cheating on her.

On the night we
got back together, I made strong, passionate love to
her.

Unfaithful as I’d been, I was not going to let her
have me over a barrel for the rest of our relationship.

I needed to keep a sense of self and not allow her to
mire me in guilt and a desperate quest of
forgiveness.

I needed to let her know what she would be missing
if we broke up for ever.

I gave her a manful bravado of
performance that night, and at the height of her
passion, I asked her: ‘Who’s the boss?’

The question threw her.

Initially she wouldn’t give
me a reply, but I enticed it from her.

‘You are,’ she finally gasped.

‘You are!’

I am a very difficult man to
be with.

I know I have caused my partner great pain and
anxiety.

But she is an adult, and ultimately it is
wholly her choice whether she wants to be with me
or not – I cannot be anyone other than myself.

I don’t believe in working on relationships and
making artificial efforts to give them substance.

i believe in people being themselves and following
their hearts towards whatever destiny lies before
them.

When women choose to be with Wuss Men, they are
choosing a life that will be only half-lived.

I think a lot
of them are finally waking up to that fact.

Relationships between independent and assertive
people will always be fraught with tensions, but they
have enormous creative energy.

Despite the many problems my partner and I have
endured, we have both come a long way since we
first met six years ago.

We have challenged one another to grow -
professionally, intellectually, emotionally and
spiritually.

This would never have happened had she
flaked out and gone for a softer option in her choice
of partner.

Bring back the real men, girls.

You used to love them long ago in the past,remember?

Just some random thoughts that came to my mind….