On the Problem of a Romantic View of Germanic Women

I might want to refer to this later, so I’m cross-posting here a comment whichI made at Dalrock’s on his post “Riding to Lancelot’s Rescue”. He quotes C.S. Lewis:

They effected a change which has left no corner of our ethics, our imagination, or our daily life untouched, and they erected impassable barriers between us and the classical past or the Oriental present. Compared with this revolution the Renaissance is a mere ripple on the surface of literature. […] [A] glance at classical antiquity or at the Dark Ages at once shows us that what we took for ‘nature’ is really a special state of affairs, which will probably have an end, and which certainly had a beginning in eleventh-century Provence.

In “Masterpieces of Medieval Literature”, the author talks about this extensively; driving home the point that none of the surviving literature[1] of the Germanic/Norse peoples deal with romantic feelings as a thing separate from sex. The only woman in Beowulf is Hrothgar’s wife–with whom Beowulf has no significant dealings–and Grendel’s mother. Beowulf kills her. Brynhildr is a significant character in the stories of Sigurd, but Sigurd’s attachment to her isn’t a religious-devotion-like romance.

In the Icelandic Eddas[2a], there are stories which include women who make large impact on the stories, but none of them have a purely romantic–by which I mean extra-sexual–element. There is a story about a great man named Gunnar who married a beautiful woman with “the eyes of a thief” and who brings about his death because he once slapped her for stealing. She had two previous husbands killed for the same offense.

However, there was a custom of the Germanic/Norse people which was activated by Romantic Fever and caused it to have a more deleterious effect than in southern Europe: Germanic/Norse and Celtic women had much greater freedom, authority, and strength than either the women of southern Europe, or those of the Near, Middle, and Far Easts.

Once Romantic Fever took over those peoples, pedastalization of women–and thus Feminism–was probably already an unavoidable symptom. Under the infection of religious-devotion to “love”, those Germanic/Nordics had beautiful, strong, independent demi-goddesses on their hands. In more Latin lands (Italy, France, etc.) Romantic Fever didn’t elevate women to such heights.[2b]

[1] This is significant, says Shutt, because only the most popular, the most retold, stories would have survived. The Germanic peoples were late to the written tradition and passed on their stories via an oral tradition. While it’s possible that at one time there existed stories with “romantic” elements, logic says that they weren’t popular, i.e., if they did exist, they didn’t resonate with the audience.

[2a] Because of it’s relative isolation from the rest of Europe, Iceland was less effected by European trends. These descendants of the Norse people (and some Irish) weren’t infected with Romance Fever as early, or for as long, as the Continentals. This allowed them to become literate, yet not become severely romantic. Meanwhile, in mainland Europe, Germanic traditions were infected. So while the same stories of the oral tradition live on for a bit, they were treated as vulgar and passe…sort of like the American Coastal Elite’s view of gun-toting Bible-thumpers.

[2b] We still see this today. My home, Texas, is to America what America is to the world. And it is absolutely lousy with strong, beautiful, independent women who are loud, obnoxious, and monstrously entitled–and the men who enable them. “Sassiness” is virulent. The majority are downright stiff-necked, crude, and ungrateful. Texans are, perversely, proud of this. Women like Sarah Palin are hugely popular down here, and seen as the epitome of conservative strength.

(This post was edited to correct attribution of the quote from Dalrock to Lewis.)

Half-Cocked Variations

On the topic of “Shotgun Dads” trying to scare their daughters’ dates or boyfriends, Scott wrote:

Set aside all the stuff you tell yourself and probably your wife about “traditional values and gender roles” or whatever. You cannot, in todays world seriously plan on carrying out any of these threats. You are puffing out your chest to “scare” off the “bad” boys, who know you are full of crap.

He’s right. And if the date in question really is a bad boy this attitude is helpful to him for a couple reasons. First of all, any girl who is entertaining a bad boy is expressing to her father that his approval is meaningless. Attempts to warn off a bad boy heighten the stakes of the game she is playing. The most likely outcome is that she will do more with the bad boy, and sooner. Second, bad boys don’t want permission. They are planning to leave after they’ve had their fun any way. A father who falsely threatens is dancing to the same song as the bad boy.

The best foil to the plans of bad boys and the girls who want them is to trap them in forced commitment. If only someone had thought of that.

16 “If a man seduces a virgin who is not betrothed and lies with her, he shall give the bride-price for her and make her his wife. 17 If her father utterly refuses to give her to him, he shall pay money equal to the bride-price for virgins.

That is impossible in the modern world. However, the minds and desires and spirits of humans–including those of girls and bad boys–have not changed since that was written. A protective father could adopt the Lord’s strategy in the OT to our weakened and less manful times by introducing the topic of marriage every time a date/boyfriend’s name is raised, or whenever he is around. Girls perhaps don’t want to marry right now, but they all want to be marriageable right now.

A father could cajole or question a boy to express how he finds the daughter marriageable. This is sure to cause discomfort, but most girls will not be able to resist the temptation to inspect every nook and cranny of the boy’s hems and haws. Any resistance by either the girl or boy to such lines of inquiry ought to be met with the innocent and forthright truth that Christian sexual and romantic relations are always concerned with, and pointed towards, marriage.

Scott also wrote:

It feels good, because all the women around you pat you on the head and nod approvingly. You have earned your cookie.

This is incorrect. If any women pat a man on the head for this it’s because she think he’s a fool; like how a mother “Awwws” over and hugs a child who has done something stupid. It’s not a reward, but consolation.

Dalrock wrote a post commenting on Scott’s post and elaborated in a similar direction as one of my previous essays. While I agree with what both Scott and Dalrock are seeing–the foolishness and the empty posturing–I do wonder what we should expect of most men. I’m much smarter than the average guy, yet my blog isn’t brimming with answers. And it is by far average guys who say things like, “I’ll be cleaning my gun when my daughter’s date gets here.” They’re fantasizing. It’s a really stupid fantasy with contradictions and perversion, but its seed is a honorable desire to protect their daughters. That desire is wholly frustrated because we live in a really shitty culture. Dissolute elites and social science freaks have spent years undermining husbands and outlawing every embodiment of patriarchy. Fathers have been legally emasculated so that no man may truly say it was he who protected his family.

Until there is either an outbreak of sanity, or a breakdown of political entities, we have only one option: Be humble, brave, and truthful; any one of which cannot be done without the others.  Many will protest and question what good are such spiritual weapons against the materialist weapons of our enemies. They’ll put forward some scheme or system which pretends to be a psychological machine that produces Good Kids (or controlled women). They’ll say, “Look what I did. I did this and this and this, and I made my kids do that and that and that, and now they’re so awesome because I did it right.”  That’s as foolish as saying you’re going to scare away bad boys from the girls who love them.

If anyone did it right, then what he did was recognize the truth, told it to himself, told it to those around him, and then tried to live in obedience to it.

A Draft of a Manual to War Against the Necropolis

I wrote earlier that I would write some thoughts on how one goes about living and moving in Babylon, the Necropolis. Here is the first draft of what I hope to become a fully-realized manual, or even possibly an organization.

  1. Men going into problem churches, or church-related problems, in elite teams of two or more. These men are armed with scripture and resources provided by other members. They should also travel with arms against physical foes. Jesus said:

35 And he said to them, “When I sent you out with no moneybag or knapsack or sandals, did you lack anything?” They said, “Nothing.” 36 He said to them, “But now let the one who has a moneybag take it, and likewise a knapsack. And let the one who has no sword sell his cloak and buy one. 37 For I tell you that this Scripture must be fulfilled in me: ‘And he was numbered with the transgressors.’ For what is written about me has its fulfillment.” 38 And they said, “Look, Lord, here are two swords.” And he said to them, “It is enough.”

When Jesus had first sent out the disciples he sent them out in twos:

10 After this the Lord appointed seventy-two others and sent them on ahead of him, two by two, into every town and place where he himself was about to go.And he said to them, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few. Therefore pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest. Go your way; behold, I am sending you out as lambs in the midst of wolves. Carry no moneybag, no knapsack, no sandals, and greet no one on the road.

“But now…” Jesus said, and has the state of things from that time–that now–changed? I don’t believe it has. I believe He meant from that moment going forward. I want to be clear that weapons are for defense on the way to the mission; not to accomplish the mission. The battle is not against flesh and blood, but we have to survive highwaymen and murderers to arrive at the spiritual battles to fight them. I would go so far as to say that any man who is not physically armed had better have an excellent reason.

I also note that the scheme of sending them out in groups has not changed. Jesus doesn’t send out individual heroes. I am strongly against the idea of “bootstrapping” a correction of a church.

We need an elite group of men who both drink the living waters, and who keep sharp eyes on their surroundings.

2. We need a resource for men searching for a church home. It is no longer enough to look at a church sign and determine what they practice. Churches of the Southern Baptist Convention, for example, say as a matter of faith and doctrine that they believe in families and churches led by men. In practice though, they vary. You will find among them Sunday School classes, and worship services, and Bible studies led by women.

As another example: Many believe that there are no churches which teach head-coverings by example. That’s not true. You can find some Anglicans who do (Even in America!), as well as some Pentecostals, and I believe some Lutheran as well. I’m sure I’m missing some.

Another example: The Biblical instruction for choosing elders/priests/bishops and deacons is the husband of one wife, and a father of children who are well-behaved believers. Is this true of the First Baptist Church of Podunk? Does he have a whore-mongering son? Does the pastor of Grace-filled Calvary Chapel have children in another state whom he does not see?

The point of this…database…would be to provide a catalog of churches which shows who they really are, and thus hold them accountable to the Scriptures, and force them to make a defense of themselves–to show themselves approved.

Feel free to criticize, suggest, or otherwise improve upon this barest of beginnings.

 

The Full Cane Caldo

I’ve mentioned in the past that I am an extrovert and over the past month I’ve been able to meet up with four of the authors and commenters[1] that travel in the same blogging circles. This brings my total face-to-face encounters to seven, and I am very glad to report that I enjoyed them all, and I look forward to seeing them all again, and to meeting more people as they allow.

Of these recent conversations, one small off-hand comment by me during dinner and the reply to it lingered more than the others; especially in light of some recent kerfuffles. I had said off-handedly, in the course of a larger point, “I don’t want people to like Cane Caldo.” to which it was replied, “Hmm, interesting.”

I didn’t mean it is my preference for others to dislike my online personae, but that I am very conscious of the fact that the Internet is an unavoidable world of masks. We may shout solidarity or whisper truths about ourselves to one another, but we should not fall in love with the masks. That goes double for oneself. All of which brings up the question of exactly how masked am I?

Good question. I’m probably the last person who should try to answer it, but I can relate a story.


Last year a friend of mine threw a party. All of us have been close since high school, and so we happily attended and enjoyed the chance to reconnect while our wives giggled and our children played. All of us men smoke, and so we spent most of the time on the back porch smoking cigarettes, drinking beer, poking fun at each other and laughing.

The kids–about ten of them–were outside with us. There was a trampoline. They jumped and tussled and laughed and cried and got over it when we made sure they weren’t injured and told them to get over it. Sometimes a mom would come out to furrow her brow and find out what was going on. And we’d laugh and tell her to get over it, too, and so they all got over everything and the kids would go back to play and the wives would go back to their fun.

The sun was on the horizon and and we had just assuaged hurt feelings and staved off bitterness. There were no women in earshot, and the children were in oblivious play. My friend, a military vet for almost two decades said, suddenly serious, “I just want to thank you guys for showing me how to be a man.” We protested, but he wouldn’t have it. He talked about growing up without a father, and–a year younger than us–about how he took to us as older brothers. And we are brothers, and we had been young together.

Because the laughter of men is catnip to women, they would occasionally come outside and hang around; just being pretty and waiting for an entrance to the conversation. Then, after a bit, they’d go back inside and rejoin the wives. They wanted to belong to the laughing men, and that is good because they do. But bubbling up from under that goodness was something else, and that was the desire of our wives to be the center of the laughing men. That is not good, as you’ll see.

It was dark, and some had drank a bit too much beer. We were still on the back porch, but the kids had moved inside to the toys, and the wives had come outside to us. One man’s wife could no longer withstand the desire to be the center of our attentions, and so it happened. She went inside and came back with a box. She said, “You guys are going to love this game.”

Everyone but my wife and I knew what it was, and the rest of them smirked and giggled nervously. I asked, “What’s it called?”

She beamed. “Card’s Against Humanity. It’s a party game with topics that are just stupid, or kinda mean, or kinda gross, or whatever.”

“Gotcha. That doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

“No, it’s really fun.”

“Ok. It still sounds like a bad idea. It sounds like the game is to make everyone feel awkward.”

Then, to prove it was fun, she read off one of the Cards Against Humanity in front of me, my wife, my friends, their wives, and even my adult daughter. I don’t remember what she said except that it had the word “cum” in it. My wife and daughter looked at the ground and immediately began for the safety of house.

“That’s enough.”, I barked.

Her grin faded and she began to protest. “No, it’s just funny–“

“It’s not funny. It’s embarrassing. If you want things to get awkward, then I can make it awkward.”

Silence. She bowed her head, slipped the card back into the case, and went inside. Our host pulled me aside and said, “Man, I want to apologize. I knew what it was and I should have said no. I guess I just…” He trailed off. He didn’t know what to do because it wasn’t his wife.

“It’s over now. I know that everywhere else she goes people would love her for bringing up that game; even other Christians. They don’t think it’s a big deal, and so she’s been tricked into thinking it’s acceptable because it’s “just a game”. She had no idea I’d have that reaction. I’m not mad at her. It just needed to stop.”

“Well, I’m sorry anyways. I’m glad you said something, and I wish I had. I shouldn’t allow it around my family, either.”

“Bro, we’re all learning.”

A few minutes later the woman came back out. She said she was apologizing to my wife, and then she realized that she should be apologizing to me; which she did and I forgave her. Her instincts to apologize to my wife were correct, though. I treasure my wife and kids, and her offense wasn’t against me but against my family, by extension my brothers, and by further extension my brothers’ families. If it had been just us guys when she pulled that stunt, I would only have looked at her husband with a concerned scowl and then walked off.

By the way, he was silent the whole episode.

As far as I know, everyone left on good terms. Still, it would have been much more pleasant for me and probably everyone else if that game had never come up. Then again, it wasn’t really the game’s fault, either.


 

(Author’s Note: Title taken from here.)

[1] They can choose whether or not they want to accept the infamy.

Free-Agent Women are Bad for Team You

I saw this video linked on a couple sporting news websites as evidence that NFL Fan Fights season has kicked-off. Language warning for the faint.

Did you see what I did? Because what I saw was:

  1. A Mexican woman allowed to run her mouth while her men looked on, helpless. Watch their expressions. They are embarrassed, but conflicted because–unlike white people–they’ve been taught to stick by their own kind even when she’s stupid, endangering others, and wasting hundreds (or possibly thousands) of dollars in tickets and parking.
  2. More egregiously: A white woman repeatedly put her hand over her man’s mouth, and he tolerating mommy’s physical censorship. Whatever that fat Mexican chick did to the white guy was nothing in comparison to the disrespect his own woman has for him.

I wonder if he knows that, in her mind, contract negotiations are never over and every day is the right day to disrespect him if she can get her way.

Find the Lady in Weighting: The Church Woman’s Con Game

Oscar asked:

I have an off-topic question for you regarding 1 Cor 14.

34 Women should remain silent in the churches. They are not allowed to speak, but must be in submission, as the law says. 35 If they want to inquire about something, they should ask their own husbands at home; for it is disgraceful for a woman to speak in the church.

I understand the entire chapter’s subject is maintaining constructive order in collective worship, but I don’t understand why it’s inherently “disgraceful” or detrimental to constructive order for a woman “speak in the church”.

Or, am I missing something about what Paul is referencing when he mentions women speaking in church?

SirHamster replied:

In two different mixed-sex Bible studies I’ve led, I have had women drone on and on off-topic, caught up in their feelings on the subject.

“God is love, so God is feelings! Feelings are important!” That Bible Study had previously emphasized that Biblical love is an act of will, not feelings – and I’m ashamed now that I let that go on with no answer for 5 minutes. Need to learn to cut off unfruitful tangents in a discussion.

What I am learning from those experiences and various Manosphere/Game blogs is that women are not men with boobs, they have a womanly nature that processes the world differently. And they can and will go on a chain of “logic” that is not.

Bobbye added:

Women asking questions in the assembly show a fundamental disrespect for her husband and /or father if he is also a member of the assembly. Did she ask at home and not get an answer? Are the men in her home without knowledge? Or is it that she doesn’t respect their answers? She wants an answer from a ‘real’ authority. If headship serves no real purpose, why pretend that the husband is the head? If the woman’s husband/father is not a christian, then for decorum’s sake she should ask her questions privately, so as to not lead others astray.I once attended a church where an elder did not know who Jeremiah was. If churches actually practiced this observance, then men would be obligated to be more knowledgeable and wise in the Scriptures and the ways of God.

It’s these, altogether. This blog is not a church, but it suffered the same problems. No feminists trouble me. The impetus for my ban on female commenters was the comments of wives who confessed to believe the Bible and the husband’s headship.

Inevitably, disagreement happens and when it does then many of those supposedly Bible-believing, husband-following wives switch to a conversational form of Find the Lady. When what she had said is challenged, that gets shuffled to the position of “what her husband said”; to the cheers and jeers of the shills around the challenger; who becomes their mark. The shills may be male or female, but usually consider themselves conservative, or traditional.

Some of those wives become more emboldened in argument and more immodest in spirit. Like a wild donkey in heat, they will often start feeling around to take a grab at another man’s balls: “If you were a real man…”; “My husband would kick your ass…”; etc. Such a woman’s hands–one on her husband and one on his adversaries–are filled with two weights; which Moses called dishonest and an abomination.

11 “When men fight with one another and the wife of the one draws near to rescue her husband from the hand of him who is beating him and puts out her hand and seizes him by the private parts, 12 then you shall cut off her hand. Your eye shall have no pity.

13 “You shall not have in your bag two kinds of weights, a large and a small. 14 You shall not have in your house two kinds of measures, a large and a small. 15 A full and fair weight you shall have, a full and fair measure you shall have, that your days may be long in the land that the Lord your God is giving you. 16 For all who do such things, all who act dishonestly, are an abomination to the Lord your God.

She needs to be content with the full and fair weight and measure she has been given in her husband, and not go around fondling other men’s weights to see which is heavier. To do so is dishonest and an abomination. It is this which Paul called disgraceful, and it is; to her, to her husband, and to the church.

The only way to beat the con is to never play. The best way to protect gullible men from becoming marks is to never let disgraceful women setup the con. And the best way to keep disgraceful women from setting the con is to not let any women speak in church…or on this blog.

Three Peaces of Command

Yesterday I wrote:

[B]ecause I was too chickenshit to appear sexist or hypocritical about work,–I had been passively hoping that she would pick “stay home, cook, and clean”, and therefore angry that–in the absence (and complete abdication) of my direction–she had chosen neither and both…just as I had demonstrated.

The question, then, is why was I chickenshit? What was it of which I was afraid? Well, one can chase that squirrel for a long time, but it always comes back to the fact that I chose to believe my modern instructors

  • parents
  • teachers
  • pastors
  • peers
  • TV shows
  • pop music
  • movies
  • newspapers
  • magazines
  • billboards

were right, and that the clear text of the Bible was wrong; that Paul and Peter’s instruction–and Mary and Sarah’s examples–were wrong. I believed that what God had called righteous, I should call foolish. Even though the anger and confusion–within me!–witnessed that I was convicted this crap ain’t right, I still felt like I had to make up my own mind about it. Even though I wanted to have a wife follow me I still didn’t want to lead her and instruct her. Rather, I thought it better to let her wander after me[1] because… because why?

Because I got a paycheck? Because I’m smarter?  Because I was taller? Those things are fleeting, like beauty, and so even if they are momentary gifts from God, it is foolish to make them requisites for headship. The need for a husband’s headship will very often outlast these conditions.

That truth of the withering nature of material worthiness hounded me in my heart. I knew I could not keep it up forever, but my hope was in human frailty and inertia; that if I was just patient then she would realize what sweet and worthy guy I was.

At the same time I knew that wasn’t true because the longer we were together, the more we fought. If a wife’s drive-by spats are fitness tests of me, they should have subsided upon proof of fitness because I gave better than I got. They didn’t. They just got more frequent, pettier is scope, and grander is exercise. Bitterness crept into everything. No peace. Because I hated what God had to say–and because I did not speak out against hate –there was no peace in my house. No peace with my wife. No peace within me.

Really, I have those three peaces listed backwards. The argument that I described yesterday (“What do you want me to do?”) took place after I had moved back in from a nine month separation. My agreement to reconcile was based on several demands I made of her: You will always do this; you will never do this; etc. They were very specific to my main frustrations. But before I even made those demands, I had already decided the most important thing that I would ever do for my marriage.

I confessed, angrily, to God that I did not like His way; hat I had not tried it because it seemed crude to me; that I had tried to do my own thing that looked like His way, but which was more sensible for our progressed times and people. Now, no matter what, I would try His way, and by this I would prove whether He was right, or whether He was wrong. Either I would live or die and my marriage would survive or not, but I would do so by His Word, and everyone would know. If I had not made that decision, I would not have had the answer to my wife’s question of what I wanted from her.

At the point of the question I walked away and went to smoke a cigarette. There I reflected on what I had said to God I would do. I went back into the bedroom and said, “I want you to clean, and cook, and take care of my children and my house like a wife is supposed to.” To which she spat, “Great.” and we continued our fight…but this time I did so with peace; with the knowledge that I could not lose because it’s not Cane Caldo’s word or headship at stake.

Ten plus years of poor leadership, bad habits, and entrenched rebellion is not undone in one fight, but from there things got better. For one, our fights had a real basis of disagreement instead of just festering feelings and bitterness. I felt free to say to her, “Didn’t I tell you to do this? Why isn’t it done?” And she could be mad at me all she wants, but the truth is that I don’t ask her to do insane things, and the reason she doesn’t want to do them is because she’s got an ugly, rebellious spirit, and that she’d better check herself because the Lord loves a quiet, respectful spirit.

She could have left, but she didn’t. She still gets mad at me, but she does what I say. She quit her job (against her wishes). We homeschool now; which was my idea, not hers. The house is clean(er) now, but I am satisfied that she does her best. I put the kibosh on a lot of volunteer activities that she claimed to enjoy, but actually drained her energy and spirits. The further I went along with this idea of being a husband according to God’s Word, the more I realized I wasn’t doing, and started trying to implement. And the more I implemented, the more I realized that my wife hadn’t really been disciplined about anything. She had no idea what it was like to live under real expectations; not the pain of failure, and not the joy of success.

Wash, wash, wash…

[1] Who could only be described charitably as misguided. It is more honest to say that I was deliberately going the wrong way.

She Got Games You Ain’t Even Thought of Playing

I’m going to continue on with the rest of a girl’s comment from Dalrock’s…

After reading the comments here (that a wife should submit to her husband even unto housework) I am going to ask [her prospective husband] how he feels about housework because I can’t see myself married to someone who has issues with it. I don’t want to be the only person who scrubs the toilet for the rest of my life.

which will, rightly, set off alarms for any man who is not a confessed feminist. It’s easy to see that before she’s even married she’s already rebelling against being a wife…not because she doesn’t want to clean toilets (no one does), but because she is both setting arbitrary rules against an imagined offense (which makes her the de facto ruler, and therefore against submitting to her husband) and because she is manipulative and deceptive. Though, feminist or not, most men would only feel the manipulation and deception. Many men couldn’t pinpoint it, but I’m here to help.

Check out the framing of her statement. “I’m going to ask him…” It’s a test, plain and simple. It’s a test that she knows she cannot possibly grade him fairly upon because she has already stated that he doesn’t know what he expects from a wife; particularly about submission. She’s counting on him being rattled by the question, and just backing off from the whole concept. She, however, does know the answer to the submission question test: It means she cleans a toilet if he says “Clean the toilet.”

“…[H]ow he feels about housework…” is so untrue it’s not even wrong. Feel has nothing to do with it. By moving the rational decision from the questions of

  • What should a wife do?
  • What does submission mean?
  • Who’s going to clean the toilets?

This way, if they argue, it happens in the arena of feelings and “he-said/she-said” instead of “Let’s look at the Bible.” This is necessary for her because she doesn’t want to admit that–way deep-down in her gut–that she hates what God has said. By he-sad/she-said she can’t really lose, because if she loses that means he’s a big meanie picking on a girl. Therefore he isn’t worthy anyway. When she really thinks about it, the way he doesn’t let her have her way is emotional abuse. So she will tell herself.

And let us not overlook the fact that this isn’t about housework. It’s about submission overall. She knows that, but he may not. She knows that if she gets her way about housework, she has precedent to get her way about everything. Sometime later, she’ll give-in to something that she feels is just his want (not her duty), and pat herself on the back for her maturity and willingness to compromise. If he ever brings up that it was her duty then she’ll regret it, and think of the whole incident as the time that he took advantage of her mature generosity. It’s like clockwork.

“I can’t see myself married to someone” has the subtext of “I’m considering others.” If it was a PUA’s statement some would call it Dread Game. She’s communicating that she is ready to replace him if he doesn’t let her have her way. Again, this will set a precedent for all future disagreements.

“I don’t want to be the only person who scrubs the toilet for the rest of my life.”

Classic ugly feminism for her to focus in on what she hates instead of what she loves.

You Must Be Because You Are

A female commenter over at Dalrock’s writes:

He brought up submission recently and I am concerned that he is overly focused on it. But when I asked him what submission would look like to him and his answer was vague each time. So it is something that is important to him but he can’t or won’t really describe or explain how it would work in our day to day lives.

This was me even after ten years of marriage. I recall one particular argument between my wife and I about her responsibilities; back in probably 2005. She, exasperated and angry at my hemming and hawing around (Yesterday I might have criticized her for leaving work early, and today I might have been angry that the house was a wreck.) cried out, “What do you want me to do? Do you want me to cook and clean all day, or do you want me to work, or what?”

Right then, for the first time, I fully realized that–because I was too chickenshit to appear sexist or hypocritical about work[1],–I had been passively hoping that she would pick “stay home, cook, and clean”, and therefore angry that–in the absence (and complete abdication) of my direction–she had chosen neither and both…just as I had demonstrated. Husbands don’t just need to be the leaders. Husbands are the leaders, and therefore must act accordingly. That’s not a guarantee that she will follow, but if she stays, she will follow. A wife cannot divorce staying a wife from following her husband anymore than a son can stay in his father’s home while refusing to mimic the father’s behavior, or reject his genetics. The consequences are unavoidable.

[1] Outside of the house work (earning “my own” money) was something of an idol that was given to me by my parents, and thoroughly enforced by American society as a whole. 

Donkey Talk

King Solomon, ~300 B.C.

25 I turned my heart to know and to search out and to seek wisdom and the scheme of things, and to know the wickedness of folly and the foolishness that is madness. 26 And I find something more bitter than death: the woman whose heart is snares and nets, and whose hands are fetters. He who pleases God escapes her, but the sinner is taken by her.27 Behold, this is what I found, says the Preacher, while adding one thing to another to find the scheme of things— 28 which my soul has sought repeatedly, but I have not found. One man among a thousand I found, but a woman among all these I have not found. 29 See, this alone I found, that God made man upright, but they have sought out many schemes.

Mom, ~last month

You know, Cane: Women lie a lot; especially when they’re young. All the time. I really hate to say that, but… If they think it will get them something, or get them out of trouble, or, make them look better, yeah, just get their way…women will just lie to everyone and even themselves. Haha! Yeah…especially themselves…

This truth about women (mothers, wives, sisters, daughters…all of them) is the one thing that men dealing with women need to know. The temptation for them to lie is very powerful; in no small way because their nature is to desire more than it is to discern. I suspect this has always been true, but I also think it must be even more difficult to resist in our current culture than in some previous ones. The permeation of relativism in our culture means that their grasp of the truth (when spoken, written, heard, etc.) is more tenuous

Along with that: I cannot imagine that there have ever been more systems for a person to skip between; each more beguiling than the last in its explanation of how to cure what ails a woman. Buy this. Move here. Grow that. Eat this. Pray this. Do these… Men are susceptible to such systematic ruses also, but as women will (and do!) follow, men falling to such sorceries only adds to women’s burden.

Nor can we forget that the laws, traditions, and sentiments of our era force men into the service of women without a reciprocal service, or even gratitude.

So, if this is true, can a man trust a woman? He can, but that trust must be based on watching what she does. A submissive wife, or daughter (or son for that matter) is known by her obedience; not by her lip-service. Let me put St. Peter’s admonition to wives’ obedience under a different light: Her words, even grumblings, are meaningless if she is respectful and has pure conduct; which is submission. Therefore, husbands with obedient wives must not let their own sentimentality get in the way of work. There is plowing to be done. Enjoy (as in: “bring joy into”) it, for there is no plowing in the grave.