Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 109178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
BUT YOU DIDN’T! YOU LIED! THEN YOU GET MAD WHEN THAT MOTHER HAS TO BE TWO PEOPLE INSTEAD OF ONE, AND YOU SAY SHE IS EMASCULATING YOU! SHE’S ACTING LIKE A MAN! WELL, OF COURSE SHE IS BECAUSE SHE HAD NO CHOICE! YOU WEREN’T THERE! YOU CREATED A DROUGHT! FATHERS, IF YOU HAND ME AN EXCUSE, I WILL HAND YOU A MAP AND ASK YOU ONE QUESTION, MR. CARMEN SAN DIEGO: WHERE. THE FUCK. WERE YOU?!
Oh my God! I have never heard anyone speak like this about my life! He is talking about ME! Tears kept forming and her mind spun, her heart bursting with emotion. Taking a deep breath, she continued.
I am coming down hard on us men because we made a promise, with our bodies and our souls, and we’re not honoring the contract. In the case of male children, the results are just as bad when we are not around, or emotionally shut off. In fact, with boys, all we do is create more versions of ourselves – our unhealed selves, and the fucked-up cycle continues. A father can be in the house, but not really present. That is exactly what happened to me. I was an exception, though, because I didn’t blame my mother for the things my father did. Many times however, that isn’t the case. That young man grows up and blames the garden, not understanding that if the sprinkler had stayed and did the work needed, there would not be so many fucked up, damaged, trauma-bonded, mentally deranged, neglectful, manipulative people on this planet.
The mother can’t move! She is the garden – rooted. She has no choice but to stay there with the children while the sprinkler gushes and goes rogue. The hose starts spritzing and waters someone else’s lawn, with no remorse. Garden after garden after garden have been given seeds, with no water. Lawn after lawn.
That’s the legacy we’re leaving behind as men. We make families we don’t want. Enter marriages with women we don’t love. And we’re never satisfied, constantly moving the goal post. We don’t want relationships. We want robots with pretty faces, maids, live-in chefs, wet pussies, and mouths that only open if they’re kissing our asses or sucking our dicks. We have done a terrible thing, and the punishment will be harsh. In this lifetime, or in death. Payment will be rendered. God will question us, and we will be forced to answer.
Nadia placed the book down once again and blew her nose. Reaching for the bottle of water she had on her nightstand, she took a big, long gulp. Her face was so wet with tears, she simply gave up wiping it. She’d hated her own father for so long that when he died, they were still at odds. She had regrets. Guilt. And yet, the anger remained, so fresh. It ruled her. She hadn’t even bothered going to his funeral. The anger for men began with him. Of that, now she was certain. She didn’t feel loved by him, only dismissed or judged… I WASN’T WATERED!
The anger continued and grew when she was beaten by a fellow college student and fought to stay alive. She wanted the tables to turn. What goes around comes back around though. I wanted my power back.
She tried to take control and make men beg for her. They now had to pay her to even see her. Even in her romantic relationships, she realized she always wanted to be in control. It was hard to give fully of herself. She wanted to twist and turn them, and it worked for a long while. She became Velvet, and revenge fit like a glove. But then she realized the pain was still there, right under the surface.
Deep down, she really just wanted to love and be loved. She wanted to heal, but didn’t know how. She no longer aspired to remain chained to her own trauma and pain. She wanted something to change, but she didn’t always feel motivated. At least not until she ran into a man from her memories. He re-entered her life and offered her a beautiful future. A man who gave her his heart freely, and not once asked her for anything in return…
…Women who have active fathers. Good fathers. Caring fathers. Fathers who spend time with them and teach them about men, about making their own money so that if their relationship falls apart, they can survive, be self-sufficient. A man to teach them about loving themselves and keeping their standards high, about what it means to be a good wife to a deserving man, about how to spot a man who isn’t about shit, are far less likely to succumb to corruption, ruthlessness and all the things men don’t like about certain women.
You sons of bitches can’t talk to me about the fucked up things women have done to you – because I’ve had some fucked up things done to me by women, too. You’re not the only one to go through some shit! Some shit happened to me, at the hands of a woman, that you wouldn’t even believe! In fact, one diabolical incident was so traumatic for me, it almost destroyed my marriage. I almost lost my woman over something I hadn’t even initiated or agreed to. It was so serious, that my wife had moved out for a time being. I was at my fucking lowest. I had lost so much. She took my babies with her. I was crushed, so you motherfuckers sitting around being keyboard gangsters, writing me shit about how I don’t know what’s going on in this world regarding how the women are acting, can go eat a dick.