David (Iowahawk) Burge called my attention to this story.
What Open Marriage Taught Me About Feminism
As I write this, my children are asleep in their room, Loretta Lynn is
on the stereo, and my wife is out on a date with a man named Paulo. It’s
her second date this week; her fourth this month so far. If it goes
like the others, she’ll come home in the middle of the night, crawl into
bed beside me, and tell me all about how she and Paulo had sex. I won’t
explode with anger or seethe with resentment. I’ll tell her it’s a hot
story and I’m glad she had fun. It’s hot because she’s excited...
Just wait until she tells you about how she got sealed tight by T-Bone, Jizzy Dog and a third guy whose name she didn't catch.
glad because I’m a feminist.
Yes, you are indeed a desperately sad, neutered cuckold. You have fun with that.
Before my wife started sleeping with other men, I certainly considered
myself a feminist,
I'm sure, I would have considered you one too. You have easily blown whatever microcosm of doubt I could have had on this point, completely out of the water.
but I really only understood it in the abstract. When
I quit working to stay at home with the kids, I began to understand it
on a whole new level. I am an economically dependent househusband coping
with the withering drudgery of child-rearing. Now that I understand the
reality of that situation, I don’t blame women for demanding more for
themselves than the life of the housewife.
I couldn't be prouder of just how pathetic I really am. My wife keeps my balls in her purse. She shows them to Paulo to make him laugh.
Still, as a man, I could, if I wanted to, portray what I’m doing as
No. No you can't.
and thus claim for myself the prestige men traditionally derive
from “work.” Whenever I tell someone I stay home with the kids, they
invariably say, “Hardest work in the world.” They say this because the
only way to account for a man at home with the kids is to say what he’s
doing is hard work. But there’s a subtext in the compliment that makes
it backhanded: We both know no one ever says it to a woman. Mothers
care; fathers provide care. The difference is crucial.
Despite my total withdrawal from the economy and the traditional sources
of masculine identity, I can still argue I am a provider. I provide
What you mostly do is provoke embarrassed laughter in real men. It's not just Paulo.
That's a thing. You shouldn't underestimate yourself.
In this way, my masculine self-image was stretched but not broken.
Diaper bag notwithstanding, I was still a Man. It wasn’t
until my wife mentioned one evening that she’d kissed another man and
liked it and wanted to do more than kiss next time that I realized
how my status as a Man depended on a single fact: that my wife fucked
"that my wife fucked
Look, I'm afraid I have some news for you there pal. Take a seat.
When people ask how it started, I say this: We married young. She’d
had sex before me, but only with a handful of people a handful of times.
She never had a boyfriend, never had a lover. I was the first man she
ever had the chance to get to know intimately. By her mid-30s, having
already had our children and entering her sexual prime, she felt keenly
her lack of sexual experience. Happily for me, she was willing to talk
about it, willing to ask if I’d be open to exploring other options. We
opened a bottle of wine and started talking, and talking, and talking.
Okay womanese translation time. She was a six in college but a seven point five when an Alpha had his beer goggles on. Bangable until sunrise. More than one sneaked out of her bed before she woke up but she desperately missed the Alpha buzz that she couldn't possibly get with you, the mother of her children.
She didn’t present it as an issue of feminism to me, but after much
soul-searching about why the idea of my wife having sex with other men
bothered me I came to a few conclusions: Monogamy meant I controlled her
sexual expression, and, not to get all women’s-studies major about it,
patriarchal oppression essentially boils down to a man’s fear that a
woman with sexual agency is a woman he can’t control. We aren’t afraid
of their intellect or their spirit or their ability to bear children. We
are afraid that when it comes time for sex, they won’t choose us. This
petty fear has led us as a culture to place judgments on the entire
spectrum of female sexual expression: If a woman likes sex, she’s a
whore and a slut; if she only likes sex with her husband or boyfriend,
she’s boring and lame; if she doesn’t like sex at all, she’s frigid and
unfeeling. Every option is a trap.
She was already fucking around on you. You were going to find out eventually. She wanted you to do that on her terms. She didn't want to lose half of her shit in the divorce plus her free chief cook, bottle washer and nanny on top of that.
Feminism always comes back to sex,
Really, really bad sex.
...even when we’re talking about
everything else. The point isn’t that all women should be sexual
adventurers. Celibacy is as valid an expression of sexuality as
profligacy. The point is that it should be women who choose, not men —
even the men they’re married to. For my wife, the choice between
honoring our vows and fulfilling her desires was a false choice, another
trap. She knew how deep our love was, and knew that her wanting a
variety of sexual experiences as we traveled through life together would
not diminish or disrupt that love. It took me about six months — many
long, intense conversations, and an ocean of red wine — before I knew
When my wife told me she wanted to open our marriage and take other
lovers, she wasn’t rejecting me, she was embracing herself. When I
understood that, I finally became a feminist.
She has in fact rejected you, you castrated moron. What you became was a pathetic submissive for vast number of other straight men.
That was two years ago, and today we’ve never been happier, more in
tune, closer, tighter, stronger. Whatever power I surrendered, I don’t
miss. I wouldn’t recommend it for everyone, but I tell everyone it works
She hasn't made me watch, yet but I am so looking forward to it.
How does it work? We take turns going out. Because we have small
children (ages 6 and 3), one of us stays home. (We don’t like to use
babysitters because it gives us a curfew; we’d rather go out unfettered
than worry about turning into a pumpkin at midnight.) Going out alone to
hooking up with others was an easy transition. It does work both ways
and, yes, I too enjoy sexual carte blanche.
I haven't actually managed it you understand but I theoretically have the option...If Paulo approves.
I just don’t use mine as
much as my wife uses hers.
HA HA HA HA HA (wheez...wheez) HA HA HA HA HA
What’s important is equality of opportunity,
Uh oh stand by for SJW lynching. The neutered one has strayed slightly from feminist orthodoxy.
He is guilty of Cuckold Privilege.
How does it feel? It feels great ... mostly.
HA HA HA HA HA (wheez...wheez) HA HA HA HA HA
Most of the time, it
feels like a mature, responsible way to address our needs and desires
within our loving, mutually supportive marriage. It feels very adult,
especially because it depends on open, honest communication. We take
great pride in all the talking we do. I meet a lot of people who say
they’ll never get married because they don’t want to get divorced, and
hearing it always makes me sad, because they are cutting themselves off
from the possibility of the magic that happens when two people share
their lives. People don’t divorce because they can’t stand sharing
anymore; they divorce because they feel like they can’t share enough. I
never forget that my wife is a whole person unto herself, a complete and
dynamic individual, and though we are together, we’re not one. Too
often people get trapped in the roles of husband and wife, and a gulf
opens between what they think they should be and who they really are.
Opening our marriage has allowed us to close that gap so that the person
I call “wife”
Dude you can stop calling her that anytime now.
is the same person my wife sees in the mirror. Lying to
each other begins with lying to yourself, and now we don’t have to lie
You are in fact lying to yourself.
You do nothing but lie yourself. You were a Delta male that has been reduced to Gamma. Having your breadwinner wife screw around on you, does not make you a secret king.
There are of course moments of jealousy, resentment, and insecurity.
Recently, my wife went on a date and fell asleep at his apartment. I
hadn’t heard from her since 10 p.m., she still wasn’t home at 6
a.m. My texts went unanswered and my calls went to voicemail. A tight
knot of dread lodged in my stomach as I imagined all kinds of dire
scenarios and realized that I not only didn’t know where she was, I had
no idea whom she was with. I pictured myself going to the police saying,
“I think she’s in Red Hook with a guy named Ryan. I don’t know his last
name, but I think he’s a graphic designer?” I’m not sure there’s
actually a word for the unique blend of acute terror and unforgivable
shame I felt that morning imagining that I’d lost my wife to Ryan, the
maybe graphic designer. When she finally texted me at 7:30 a.m., relief
coursed through me like morphine. She wrote, “fuckfuckfuckfuck Im
soooooo sorry. Fell asleep.” I replied, “Just glad you’re ok, but next
time, no radio silence. Remember: you’re not alone.”
I'm pretty sure she knew she wasn't alone. The actual man in her life had ordered her to sleepover, which she happily did.
The bottom line here sad one. is that eventually she is leaving you. That is going to happen. And do you know what is going to cause this break down?
It will happen when you find a girl who is younger than she is and fall in love with her because you are in the trap and screaming.
This is as inevitable as the sunrise. Your "wife" will never forgive you for falling for a younger better looking woman.
What surprises most people is when I tell them it’s not the
sex-with-other-men that bothers me. The sex is the easy part, the fun
part. It’s what the sex connects to, stands for, reveals that can be
difficult. I don’t want her to fall in love with anyone else, and every
time she goes on a date, I confront the possibility that she might. It
happened at the beginning: The first person she dated after we opened up
fell hard in love with her, and my wife, overwhelmed by his ardor,
tried to love him back. Watching it happen, I was confused, angry, and
terrified that she wanted to leave me. She assured me she didn’t, and
whatever feelings she had for him didn’t lessen what she felt for me.
Believing her then was the ultimate trust exercise. We survived because
eventually I did believe her, and also because I learned to trust
This is the guy that she will run back to, once you finally fall for the next six, who is ten years younger than your soon to be ex-wife.
This has been the great challenge of my open marriage: to draw
strength from vulnerability.
Subs always go on and on about how strong you have to be, when you are on the receiving end of the strap-on.
Doing so requires supreme self-confidence.
Yeah, you are mountain of self confidence. I can feel it. You should take up pro-wrestling.
You must first really, truly love yourself; it is the foundation upon
which all the other love is built. From everywhere comes the message
that what I’m doing is for weaklings, losers, failures, pussies; that if
I had money and status, I could keep my wife “in line”; that her
self-discovery comes at the expense of my self-esteem. My open marriage
has made heavy demands on my ability to silence the voice of doubt
in my head, that gnawing feeling of worthlessness. But I find I can meet
those demands, and that I am able to build my self-confidence out of
nothing more than the basic dignity we all possess. I’m grateful
to my wife for pushing us to take this leap, and whatever happens to us
in the future I would do it all again. And when she comes home tonight
and crawls into bed beside me with a hot story about her date with
Paulo, she’ll do it all again, too.
Our favorite Latin wife lover has gone viral. Introducing Paulo; The Cuckmaker
Cataline has now been accused of Cuckshaming. So that's a thing now.