Are All Women Fundamentally Flawed?
I probably annoy many readers with my opinion pieces which are mainly about the vagaries of western women, but as there has not been a lot happening on the site, and everyone is now fed up with my attempt to write the definitive foundry novel, I submit this latest missive. I also make no apologies for using it to express mildly misogynist sentiments.
I am pleased to report I finally had my hernia operated on but two months after the surgery I am still very sore in the groin vicinity with a scar like a caesarean section. I had to wait six months for the operation by which time the hernia was as big as a cricket ball that had been tampered with by an aussie bowler. I was put on a waiting list at the end of October last year which buggered up my planned trip to the kingdom of Thailand in December as I couldn’t get travel insurance whilst on a waiting list for surgery.
The question on your lips is how does a bloke who never lifts anything heavier than a woman’s petticoat get a hernia? The answer is, I have no idea but will accept suggestions on a postcard.
My current muse was prompted by a recent conversation with my best friend relating the latest experiences with his dysfunctional English girlfriend which reminded me of a similar incident some six months ago. Although he refers to her as mildly dysfunctional I feel the label “loony toons” to be more accurate. On a previous occasion she had physically attacked him with a sharp object in his own house. It was a huge drama, the local constabulary got involved and suggested he stay elsewhere that evening. As he was too tight-fisted to stay in a travel lodge, I had to put him up in my flat for the night. As he had not had a recent tetanus shot I warned him I would not be liable for any pestilence or plague he contracted staying in my hovel.
When he returned home the next day he informed me his lady friend acted as if nothing had happened. A few weeks later whilst relating his most recent horror story, he made a comment to me that he considered all women are fundamentally flawed.
Before I subject the full horrors of his grisly tale to the sensibilities of my gentle readers, I take the opportunity to give some background of my pal’s relationship and maybe later muse a while on the proposition that all women are fundamentally flawed.
The lady in question is a tall, slim, attractive blonde with a magnificent pair of legs. At 43 she is 20 years younger than my pal and could definitely be considered a trophy girlfriend. She lives in a pleasant town in the Warwickshire countryside and clearly comes from a privileged background. My pal met her some three years ago in the course of his profession. She works in an estate agent’s office; he is a solicitor.
When I was first introduced to her I thought her striking and vivacious and became friendly with her. We went out for a couple of innocent drinks together. I even sorted out one of her bullying ex-boyfriends who had been threatening her. However, observing her constant unrelenting desire for male attention rang some alarm bells. I identified her as a succubus of legend, or a siren luring a sailor on to the rocks. I could only foresee pain and misery for my pal if he continued with this affair despite her obvious charms. My advice to my mate was “run, Forrest, run!” He of course ignored my counsel, left his wife of 20 years and purchased a detached house as a love nest for them.
I was often dragged into their arguments and received constant phone calls and texts as if I was a referee. This began to annoy me particularly one Friday evening they insisted I come over to adjudicate their latest argument. I imagined sitting on their settee listening to her unreasonable expectations and my mate’s passive entreaties. As this was in premium Friday drinking time my refusal included the request to “go forth and multiply” which could have signalled the end of our 40-year friendship. It was all so sad and bemusing.
The tale my friend eventually told horrified me. It concerned a young lady and two brothers. She had gone out with one brother for a couple of years but suddenly dropped him and married the other brother. The two brothers have not spoken to this day causing a rift in the family. On the wedding day she prompted a huge argument that none of his family (understandably?) were at the wedding. After a year she took up with her husband’s best mate and had a child with him. After riding the cock carousel for a few years and another failed marriage, she ended up as the mistress of my best mate who was willing to take on her baggage which included three teenage children.
Within six months, after another minor argument she disappeared to the Channel Islands with one of his cricketing colleagues (who just happened to be a millionaire). It transpired said millionaire was impotent and within a week she returned to my pal, contrite and penitent asking for forgiveness. In is his state of total infatuation he took her back. She then began her campaign to elicit a commitment from him. She continued her efforts to get me involved and to drag me into their disputes. It was clear she was putting the squeeze on my pal to divorce his wife, sign over the love nest to her, all in the quest of her own future and security. I perceived her behaviour was no different from that of the most mercenary of Thai bar girls and expressed that observation.
She contacted me one Friday evening at 1 AM begging me to come to her house in the Warwickshire countryside. I had already been drinking and had no intention of driving the hour it would take me and certainly didn’t want to listen to her list of trivial grievances and unreasonable expectations. She continued in her insistence even offering to pay for a taxi for the journey. I again declined and as she began being tearful, I explained she was dealing with a world weary old fart who was immune to her charms and manipulations and told her to piss off.
I reported this to my pal the next day. He explained he was with her that evening, but she had thrown him out after another disagreement, so she must have made the call to me whilst he was making his way back from her Warwickshire home. It was all very strange.
I met up with him the next day and proposed my usual explanation of her behaviour being attention-seeking and looking for security for herself. My pal suggested something far more sinister. In all the previous cases she had gone off with the best friend (or brother) of the guy she was dumping thus ensuring the end of a friendship would complete the humiliation. The level of vindictiveness this suggested took my breath away.
But to compound things my pal suggested that the motivation for her late-night call to me was thinking I would rush over to her. Once there, she would seduce me, then notify him ensuring the end of our long friendship as punishment to him. However, she had overestimated her skill as a temptress and underestimated my inherent laziness, but I was horrified nonetheless.
This incident was about six months ago. I remain bemused that he did not get rid of her with indecent haste but is still living with her. He is slowly giving in to her constant demands and I believe he has turned over ownership of the house to her. That is his choice, but I now limit my contact with them which is quite sad as I have been friends with my pal for a very long time. I fear whatever resources he has accumulated over forty years are about to vanish.
I am sure many of the readers could tender their own examples of bizarre and irrational female behaviour, as I can myself. What is scary is how widespread this aberrant behaviour is. It can vary from relatively harmless quirks to irrational jealousy, hysterical drama or full on narcissism up to serious compulsive personality disorders involving bunny boiling.
This appears the same all over the world, I suggest to the house that all women are crazy…. yes, ALL of them, it is just a matter of degree. It matters not if the woman is Western, Asian, Black or Eastern European.
Male and female humans share a DNA that is 99 % the same. The 1% difference is attributed to the hormone Oestrogen which is known to cause mood fluctuations. It should also be noted that a 1 percent difference, if there are 5 billion DNA sequences, represents 500 million differences which is not an insignificant number. It is the same difference as between humans and our nearest neighbour Bonobos and Chimpanzees.
Now I make no apology for my mildly misogynist view point. Historically in our caveman/ hunter gatherer past, women had four roles.
1. Giving birth to children,
2. Raising the children,
3. Taking care of the cooking of meals and….
4. Keeping the cave clean.
This arrangement worked well for 200,000 years.
Universal suffrage in the last 80 years has seen women liberated from these duties. Subsequent liberation movements have provided opportunities for the rare deserving intelligent and competent women to compete with men in the workplace and in public life. This is accepted as having a positive effect on our society with a few remarkable women making a valuable contribution to our western culture over the past 60 years.
However, for the vast majority of women the removal of their traditional roles has often left them confused and without purpose. Events have proven that with a certain type of female if they don’t have anything to do and without male discipline and guidance they default to gynocentric, selfish, often narcistic behaviour.
We see women with jealousy issues, addicted to a need for validation of their behaviour. This results in attention seeking drama queens with unrealistic expectations. Not to mention the derisive effect of single mothers on our civilisation.
These women hate your friends, subject you to frequent shit tests, embarrass you in public with inappropriate comments and can’t handle their drink. She unfavourably compares you to other men, constantly criticising you and putting her friends first, making you feel like you are a mere accessory. Everything is all about her.
A recent article by Dr Shiri Cohen of Harvard Medical Centre for Research revealed that women gauge the success of a relationship by how they can make their partners unhappy. She cites further evidence that women enjoy seeing suffering.
I suggest this is supported by the stories of the crowds of women during the French revolution delighting as the guillotine did its work
I have considered the obsession with women wanting to know the birth weight of babies. I have long suspected they are secretly working out the correlation between birth weight and the degree of pain plus the number of stiches the young mother has undergone. I can never fail to notice a frisson of pleasure that passes across the eyes of certain women if an exceptional birth weight is reported and even a faint smile as they imagine the pain and agony of passing a 15 lb grapefruit down the poor girl’s birth passage. I used to think it was in sympathy for the suffering of their sisters but now I am not so sure.
Dr Cohen’s work revealed that men, on the other hand, consider their role in a relationship is to keep their women happy. This difference is quite disturbing.
I have always thought that women inhabit a world how they would like it to be rather, than how the world actually is. I have also felt that this delusion is not exclusive to western women and consider that Asian, Black and Eastern European women are probably worse than western females in this attitude.
I reserve judgement on the proposition that all women are fundamentally flawed as there are some (albeit rare) wonderful caring and gifted females in our world but will confirm my long-held belief that ALL women are unquestionably irrational and crazy.
All this being said I must confess, I actually no longer care a cow’s connecter for the behaviour and vagaries of western women. I am out of the game. I am nowadays ruled by the head behind my eyes not the head between my thighs.
I have come to accept that I present little attraction to western woman below the age of 60. I am only 62, I am not overweight and still a decent presentable bloke. I am considered charming smart and amusing but I know I hold absolutely no interest to women in their 40s and early 50s who although deluded are looking for men in their 20s and 30s. There may be some personable females in the 55 to 65 age group, but I have yet to meet them. Most at best, look like Mrs Overall from Acorn antiques (played by Julie Walters) at worst like Olive from “Off The Buses”.
I often see men with women of their own age who look old enough to be their mothers. My diminishing libido could not generate sufficient interest in these dried up old harridans and their moth-eaten minges. What all men desire is neoteny, the youthful, fresh-skinned, fertile appearance exhibited by young females in their teens and early twenties. As these delights are out of bounds to most men above 45 we have to settle for other attributes such as voluptuousness, personality or companionship in an older more inflated model. The narrative of our current feminist culture is that as a man you are unworthy, and therefore you should be grateful for what is offered.
I must confess I no longer receive the mean-spirited putdowns from women I experienced for a few years ago principally because I don’t put myself in the position to receive them.
I maintain an academic interest in the subject of female dysfunctional behaviour as I still have a lot of young male students I continue to counsel. My annual (unofficial) lecture on the economics of relationships and my fiscal guidance to avoid marriage is appreciated by my students but frowned upon by the college authorities.
I must confess I recently went through a difficult few months. I did not quite experience the black dog of depression, it was more the small puppy of introspection. I think I lost the plot for a while and had let myself go. My pal noticed my decline when he had to stay in my flat and commented on it.
I was called to an interview with my two sons who chastised me for the general neglect of my physical appearance and health.
My oldest son had given me a beautiful granddaughter and my youngest son announced his girlfriend was pregnant with a grandson expected in September. It was time to sort myself out, focus on my family and laager the wagons.
I had been concerned for my youngest son as after leaving my abode last year he had been living in a damp, deteriorating flat in a rundown district of Walsall. Certainly not a place to bring up a child. So, I moved them into my late mother’s vacant house. As well as being more suitable it is near to me, so I could keep a protective eye on them. They would also be paying rent to me (and my brother) rather than some grasping foreign landlord.
Much as I have enjoyed my freedom for some years I realised I needed looking after. I spend a lot of my time travelling around the country teaching the various Diploma groups which was draining my diminishing energy, leaving little enthusiasm for domestic tasks on my return. I needed a housekeeper or a care assistant to take care of me but could not afford it.
The new national foundry college / training centre funded by the latest government initiative and administrated by Wolverhampton University is now built at a cost of a few million. It will be September before it becomes fully operational, but it has classroom facilities, so I have begun teaching some of my Diploma groups there now. The Casting Institute I work for moved their administration there last week and I have done a few lucrative short courses for them. It is all very exciting if a bit confusing. I am optimistic this new initiative may provide the opportunity to see me out to my eventual retirement…. we shall see.
Since my eldest son’s wedding and birth of our granddaughter I had become friends again with my ex English wife and mother of my boys. She comes over twice a week cooks a meal and does my laundry. It was difficult for a while when she declared she wanted us to get back together. I soon dissuaded her of this delusion and she did not speak to me for a time. However, in the subsequent months we have reached an equilibrium in our friendship. She now has no illusions and is comfortable with the arrangement. I could not fail to notice that in the past year she has lost about two stone (12 kg) in weight and now has a discernible waistline which is uncommon for an English woman in her mid-fifties.
She gave up the tenancy on her own apartment and moved in with me the week I came out of hospital. I was grateful for her care that first week or so. She has set about remodelling my hovel at her own expense. I went away to work for a week and when I returned she had removed the mangey carpet and the derelict bed settee my son and his girlfriend destroyed when they stayed with me. The flat had been cleaned from top to bottom and the walls had a fresh coat of paint.
A new carpet had been laid in the lounge and new floor coverings in the toilet and hallway. Her own stylish sofa completed the picture. My pal would not be able to recognise the place.
Steady the buffs there, Phet, I can here you say, this woman cuckolded you thirteen years ago leaving you for another bloke prompting a painful divorce. I cannot deny I had my reservations about the new arrangement and one pal has suggested I have “settled”. I appreciate this, but I have let pragmaticism rule the day. I accept I don’t love her as I still feel she lives in a world of unicorns and pixie dust but we both need companionship and it seems to work. We still lead our individual lives that meet occasionally.
She is certainly not after my money, she has a decent widow’s pension and earns a reasonable wage in her care sector employment. Since last month she contributes half towards the household expenses. With her contribution and the rent from my youngest son supplementing the income from teaching I am beginning to make progress with my finances.
I confess I do expend effort avoiding having sex with her but occasionally acquiesce to her demands when I run out of excuses. I feel it a small price to pay for the stability I now have in my life.
I recently completed an assessor’s certificate course which means I can do other training work, not just tutoring which is another source of income. Marking and assessing the student’s assignments has given me an additional £60 a week income already with an opportunity to expand on this once I get organised.
I am happy with my circumstances, I appreciate the relationship I have with my two sons and relish being a granddad to my delightful granddaughter. I still enjoy singing with the male voice choir and my new flat mate tolerates my friendships with my lady friends such as Claire as I continue to perform at all the decent karaokes in the area confirming my unearned reputation as a man about town.
An interesting comment was made by my eldest son. He observed that when I was married to his mother and acquiesced to her every whim she never displayed any respect for me. Yet now I display a polite indifference to her she almost worships me which he finds most amusing.
It will probably all end in tears but at present I am enjoying the moment.
What about your Thailand obsession, I hear you ask. Part of the agreement to her moving in (if one can have a prenuptial agreement with a housekeeper with benefits) was that I would continue the relationship with my Thai ex-wife and visit her in Thailand once a year. This she accepted on the condition I spend one week’s vacation a year with her in some Mediterranean resort, to which I agreed.
I maintain regular contact with my ex-wife Nat and she occasionally sends me intimate photos of her Djhim to keep me interested. I must admit this strategy does seem to work with me.
So, I will spend a week in Lanzarote at the end of August to satisfy my ex English wife and will spend three weeks of December in Thailand seeing my Thai ex-wife at some time.
My current plan is to come to the kingdom in early December. I would prefer to do January to avoid the English winter, but this is in the hyper high season with prices far too rich for my taste. I have identified a window of opportunity visiting in early December. I intend to spend a few days in Bangkok in the Nana Hotel (no surprises there) exploring the Nana Plaza and Soi Cowboy as usual. I may be able to attend the annual homage to my old friend Phil Pascoe held in the Tilac bar that I missed last year.
I will then make my way up to Udon Thani for the main part of my holiday enjoying time with my Thai ex-wife in a city I have come to admire. I will finish my vacation with a week in the sin city of Pattaya before returning to the UK just before Christmas.
In the past 12 years I have met some wonderful blokes through the Stickman site. Many have, through circumstances remained valued pen pals, but I have been fortunate to actually meet over 30 fellow Stickmanites in the flesh (so to speak) whilst in the Kingdom during that time. I cannot describe the pleasure this has given me. I feel the strength of the community generated by the Stickman site over the 12 or so years I have been involved is often underestimated. Contrary to the general perception of men who are involved in the Thailand scene, every guy I have met in those years, to a man, has been a decent, intelligent and ethical fellow who I am proud to be considered a friend of.
I feel the concept of the Stickman site was an opportunity unrealised which someone with a little vision could have been capitalised on. Unfortunately, this was not to be.
Any way, if any of my old pals intend to be around Thailand in early December, please give me a shout to see if we can organise meeting at some time.
As usual watch this space.
The author of this article can be contacted at : [email protected]