I’d like to get one thing straight, I don’t ‘hate’ or ‘disklike’ men. In fact, I love them. I think men, as a whole, are pretty awesome. I was married for 18 years (together almost 20).
I have a great relationship with my dad. I am a self-described, ‘Daddy’s girl.’ My dad is the stepfather to my siblings. He gets along with my sisters, fabulously. He married my mother (a single mother with 3 kids from 2 previous marriages and 6 years his senior) the day after her divorce from her second husband; she was 3 months pregnant with me. She didn’t want to marry him, at first, because she thought he only wanted to marry her because she was pregnant. My parents are still married to this day (almost 43 years). My father went from single to married with 3 kids and one on the way. My mother made more money than my father when they married; he wasn’t intimidated by this.
My father supported my mother’s dreams. My mother quit work when I was 5 to focus on her art, and my father supported this. My father cooked meals, did the dishes, and grocery shopped (my mom did all these things, too – they shared the responsibilities). My father would get up early for work (it was his “me” time). One morning, I was asleep on the couch; I hadn’t been feeling well. I woke up and immediately threw-up on the couch. My father cleaned it up. He didn’t need to wake-up my mom. He handled it. My father stepped in when the fathers of my siblings didn’t. My siblings were with my father more than their own fathers because they lived with us full-time and saw their dads every other weekend.
My parents have common interests and do things together (fishing, gardening, etc.). They also have their separate interests, too. My mother her art and my father his sci-fi shows and books. My parents argue. They nearly divorced when I was 15. I’ve seen my dad lose his temper. It’s an extremely rare occurrence but it does happen. He’s a human being. This is the example of a man I grew up with. This is why I feel the way I feel about men.
I’ve always been a strong-willed, headstrong, slightly stubborn type. I was never once told to “act like a lady” by my father. I never once felt stifled or told to behave a certain way. I grew up watching He-Man and Transformers and was given He-Man actions figures and a Transformer for Christmas. Admittedly, I told my dad he could have the Optimus Prime because it was a boy toy (I don’t know where I got this from but it had to be from an influence from outside my home). Every now and again, I’d ask, “Daddy, can I play with Optimus?” I watched Star Trek: TNG with my dad. I went to see Batman in the theater with my dad. I wasn’t forced into some kind of box. I was always bouncing back-and-forth between what was considered girly and boyish, and never felt my parents were pushing me to be one way or the other. When I wanted to paint my pink and purple bike green, my dad bought me the spray paint. I was allowed to be myself. This is all I know how to be. When I brought my husband home for the first time (while we were dating) my father didn’t feel the need to puff out his chest and act like he needed to intimidate or threaten him. My parents raised a strong, independent, bad ass daughter, who they know is perfectly capable of taking care of herself.
Being raised this way, made many parts of my marriage difficult, particularly early in our relationship. I don’t know how many times I had to explain to my husband, if he wanted a woman who was subservient to him that wasn’t me and if he couldn’t deal with it we wouldn’t work. I didn’t grow-up that way. I do what I want to do because I want to do it. I will do for those I love but I will not compromise who I am at my core. I enjoy cooking, but dinner isn’t going to be on the table every night at 5:30 because sometimes I don’t feel like cooking. I am not going to be a 50s-style housewife. I am a natural caretaker but will resist at anything that feels forced.
I fart. I burp. I cuss a lot. I don’t do my hair or put on make-up most days. To be honest, I get a lot of those qualities from my mother. Some men (insecure ones) may say I am “too masculine.” I’m too independent. I am just me. I am not the type of woman for an insecure man. I am not for everybody. My husband would frequently tell me I intimidate men. He said that’s why his older brother didn’t like me; I intimidate him. I am fine with that. I speak my mind. I have opinions. I am sweet and kind, however, I have no problem telling a man to fuck off if he is disrespectful. I grew up a in a very matriarchal family. My oldest sister and brother-in-law have been married for 32 years. I’ve seen them have some pretty hellacious arguments and seen them work through those disagreements. My grandmother and grandfather were married 52. I would still be married if my husband didn’t die. These are all examples of strong secure men. This is what I am accustomed to.
I love a secure, strong man. A respectful man. A kind man. A good-looking, handsome man (physical attraction is important). A funny man. A nerdy man. A supportive man. There are so many qualities about men I love; it’s a damn shame so many immature men are out here with some convoluted idea of how a man is supposed to be and how women are supposed to act.
Lost in Resolute Reverie 
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