Chapter Thirteen
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
A Rose Garden and a Sprinkler
N adia reached for the tissue on her nightstand, brought it to her nose and dabbed at the trickles of snot forming in her nostrils. She could feel the dry sting of her eyes, certain they were red without seeing her reflection. Taking a deep breath, she flipped to another page of the book…
…And this is why a woman, who created the entire world, sees herself as a mere speck of nothingness. A woman has forgotten her place in the universe. She’s been programmed to do so. She has allowed herself to be used without reciprocity. She’s allowed her ideas and inventions to be stolen, without apologies, compensation, and reparations. She’s allowed herself to be reduced to dust, told she is here to only serve, when she is the main addition and supreme. She’s allowed herself to be taught incorrect information, incorrect morals, incorrect standards, all so that it may please the one that is incorrect in his mindset. She has been taught to worship the one that is physically stronger than her, but emotionally weaker. The womb is the center of life. Not the seed. We are mere sprinkler systems to their garden. And deep down, we know this.
Men, we have fooled ourselves into believing our own lies. If you lie often enough, you begin to believe it yourself. So somehow, along the way, we, the sprinkler, convinced womb-man that WE are the garden. We did that.
We did that through our laws of the land. We did that through warping the true intent and word of God. We did that through calculated lies, manipulation, and brute force. Women form soul attachments to men, and men to women, but women bond harder. It’s because they are nurturers, but it also puts them at a disadvantage, making them easy targets. So then we essentially tell an ocean that she is nothing more than a muddy puddle.
I hate to tell you fellas, but we are not the creator. We are merely a part of creation, and yet, we have placed our feet on the womb-man’s neck. We come from her. Not the other way around. The sperm does not have the same mission, abilities, and duties as the egg. The egg existed first. It is inside our mothers, grandmothers, daughters, aunts and female cousins when they are created in their mother’s womb.
Therefore, if you think about it, we all are older than our birth years because we should start counting our existence from when the egg was formed inside our mothers. A part of us was already in existence. We were not yet human, but the blueprint was drafted. Being fertilized and being whole are two different things. We know this, though. Somewhere deep inside of ourselves, we’ve always known it, and that is in fact why we collectively treat our women the way we do.
We are jealous of the woman’s biological power, and instead of uplifting and protecting her, we have convinced her– due to her desire and hardwiring to cultivate and satisfy– that it is WE who are in charge. Our prayers call the Creator Father, and yet, we understand that in all major religious texts, God has no biological sex, nor a gender. So, which is it? And if it is true that there is no gender or biological sex when it comes to God, why is Father the chosen appellative? Who decided this? We did. And why did we decide this? Because if one is falling to their knees and worshiping male energy, a male image and male personification, it is that much easier to control and manipulate women into falling in line and following our demands. All it took was a few confused women who were leaders to help spread this lie until it became an accepted truth because trust me, gentlemen, nothing we accomplish can take place without some sort of co-signing and approval of a conquered woman with some power and influence amongst her sisters.
There will always be those out there that cannot be saved, but when they are in power, they are dangerous. I am talking to my fellow men– trying to break down to you how this happened, and discuss the karmic repercussions and spiritual debts that we now owe. This is why we’re seeing a rise in women becoming angrier, more disengaged, and more combative to the point that many are vowing to wash their hands of us, period. And what is our reaction? More manipulation, gaslighting and control. We make more and more rules to tighten the reins. What is the woman’s reaction? More disengagement. What is our response to that? Abuse. Violence. We are losing control, and instead of coming to the table to talk and work these things out, understanding that men and women benefit each other in a fair system and playing field, which currently does not exist, we will become more and more violent.
When we as men lose dominion over the women, we become increasingly mentally unstable. She is the one thing we always had, always relied on, and when she packs her bags and leaves, and takes our children with her… we see it as our investment, our property walking out of the door instead of our soulmate departing due to a broken heart.
We can’t even understand the basic psychology of a woman because we refuse to shut the fuck up and listen. Women tell you that they are leaving long before it is said out of their mouths. We don’t observe. We don’t care until it is too late. Now, I don’t like to get too heavy into religion, and I’m not going to do it now, but it is impossible to discuss the breakup of the human family, and the destruction of our marriages and romantic relationships, without at least touching on it because it is one of the tools used to direct us into what we should and should not be doing with our mate. I’ve said for years, I don’t dislike religion. Just because I do not prescribe to religion, it does not mean that I don’t believe in God, because I firmly do. I know firsthand, without a shadow of a doubt, that God exists. That is the main reason why I was able to wake up from my own fog and cease my destructive behavior towards myself, my best friend who I’ve known since childhood, and the women I sexually and romantically engaged with.
We are all entitled to worship as we wish. Spiritual beliefs are not the problem. They become the problem when we utilize them to govern others who do not benefit from said philosophies. My point in bringing this up is to give an illustration as to the brainwashing, warping and conditioning we use to keep our women in check. It used to serve us well, but now, the women are waking up. They realized that they are not being served in return. We complained about having to provide. We complained about having to protect. We complained about having to help one another, and respect our partner. Now, we’re standing around dazed and confused as to why bags are being packed, and we’re coming home to empty houses.
My wife is at home. I’m not having these motherfucking problems with her because I am doing what the fuck I promised her I would, when we exchanged vows. So when men complain to me and tell me I am just pandering, or trying to get women on my side, that’s bullshit. My life speaks for itself. My wife, Xenia, is in the public eye. She is very outspoken, and has been open about various aspects of our marriage. I drive her crazy, but she loves me. She respects me as a man, her husband, and the father of her children. She trusts me. It took work to get where we are in our marriage.
We have two completely different backgrounds, but also some commonalities. I grew up on the East Coast, she grew up on the West coast. Two completely different vibes. If you know, you know. She was affiliated with gang activity, I was affiliated with gang activity. Meaning neither of us were gang members, but we hung with gang members. I had a troubled childhood, she had a period where her childhood was troubled. I had problems with my father, her father was non-existent for most of her childhood, and that caused her a great deal of distress and trauma. I had trauma due to butting heads and not getting along with my father for the majority of my life. At the time of our initial meeting, Xenia was against interracial dating and marriage .
She is a Black woman, devoted deeply to her African American culture. I obviously am not a Black man. My father is Egyptian, and has no genetic African ancestry, and my mother was North Korean. Xenia was used to being able to use her amazing control of language to express herself to her prior relationships. She wasn’t used to men who are able to articulate what they want. She wasn’t used to men who didn’t play mind games and were decisive. I told her soon after I met her that I was going to marry her, and she didn’t believe me. Here we are, all of these years later. Married. Happy. Healthy. I did the work. If you don’t do the internal work, you will fail.
Men are failing. We pushed them too far. We’ve done too much damage. We’re completely out of control. You can be a true alpha male without dominating your soulmate. In fact, true alphas, gentlemen, do not dominate their Queens in the first place. That goes against code. That’s out of pocket. That’s desperation. By the time you pound your fists upside your Queen’s head, screaming and cursing at her, you’ve already lost. There’s no coming back from that. Even if she forgives you, you’ve already proven you can’t be trusted. That you’re a loose cannon. You’ve shown her that you are weak. Abuse is not strength. It’s a frailty. A deficit. You’ve proven that you’re extremely toxic and too emotionally unhinged. You’ve proven that you can’t handle the truth. You can’t face that you lost because you gained her by lying about your true intentions. You were conniving.
All lies are eventually revealed. We may be dead for decades before the truth comes out, but like a hard dick in some wet, snug pussy, it’s cumming whether we like it or not. We’ve tried every trick in the book, except offering the gotdamn truth. That’s because we want to keep them in bondage. And the truth sets people free…
Nadia placed the book down, leaned back and closed her eyes. Her mind reeled and her body warmed from burgeoning, confusing emotions. After a few minutes, she reached for her phone and made a call. Lennox answered on the second ring. She heard rock ’n’ roll music playing in the background, people talking, and what sounded like weights and machines moving.
“Hey, baby. I’m workin’ right now. Can I—”
“I know honey, sorry about that. I’m not gonna hold you, Lennox. This’ll be super quick.”
“Okay. Hey, Rick, hold on a sec, please… thanks… Okay, I’m here. You alright? What is it?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just have a question. Didn’t you tell me you had read some books, or talked to some therapist and author named Saint Aknaten?”
“Yeah.”
“How’d you find out about him?”
“Uh… it was an accident, actually. I was online and some of his videos popped up. Like some conferences he’d spoken at.”
“How was that an accident?”
“I had misspelled a word in the search field. Whatever I typed caused him to pop up instead. I got curious, so I watched a video, and then before I knew it, I was spendin’ whole days watching him and listening to interviews and stuff. That made me go on and buy some of his books. I could relate to what he was saying. I read like three of his books, and then I found out he had like a program, a system for healin’ trauma that affects our relationships with women. He was talkin’ about all trauma affects our relationships, and I hadn’t ever really thought about that.
“How I avoided settling down. I didn’t want to be committed, but I told myself I did. I had been in denial. I was a mess. I would abandon perfectly normal relationships with no warning. It was crazy. I decided to have an online appointment with him. It was kinda expensive, and there was a long waitin’ list… but, uh, he squeezed me in, and it changed my life. He’s the real deal.”
“Hmmm, what did y’all talk about if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Hold on… let me get out of earshot… Okay, I’m back. I mean, we talked about a lot. My session was about two hours long, and he called me a few months later to check on me. He has a very aggressive style of therapy, Nadia. He will curse you the fuck out, and then love on you, but that shit works. He doesn’t mess around, and he knows what the hell he is talking about. He’s brutally honest, will point out every fucked-up part about you, but that man has a heart of gold. Anyway, he explained to me that I avoided deep connections because of losing my mother—and a part of me feels like no woman can ever compare to her. Funny. You’re like my mother…”
“Yeah… that’s crazy. I can see the parallels. We were both in school and… well, anyway, what else did y’all talk about?”
“He, uh, let me think for a second… I’m trying to sum up a very intense and long therapy session on hydraulics basically. Okay. He also said that for some reason I blame my father for her death even though he didn’t have an ything to do with it. I knew that logically, ya know, but on a subconscious level, I blamed him anyway. I never even thought about that, Nadia but damn if he wasn’t right. Once he explained what I was doing and why, it all made sense. It was an eureka moment.”
“So, what happened after the therapy session? Did he just say, ‘Good luck!’ and hang up?”
Lennox chuckled. “Nah, it didn’t work like that. That was just the beginning. He gave me some work to do, some exercises and assignments, and it made a huge difference. I had to do these daily questionnaires. I had to pray and meditate, and keep reading. It helped me a lot. I became true to myself.” He laughed nervously. “What’s this all about, girl? Why are you askin’ all of this anyway?”
“…I was just curious.”
“I don’t have time for this, Nadia.”
“Alright! Alright! Remember when I told you I was going to the bookstore to get my grandmother a cookbook? You won’t believe this, but I was in another aisle, and his book stuck out like a sore thumb. I picked it up and started reading it, and before I knew it, a whole damn hour had passed. I was sold. I couldn’t remember where I had heard his name mentioned before, but then I remembered what you had said. That’s why I called you. To double check if I was right.”
“Oh, okay. Yeah… cool. What book did you see?”
“‘Sweet Black Pussy.’ The latest edition. I bought it, too. Been reading it.”
“That’s a good one. One of his best, actually. He has a new edition, huh? I might snag that from you. Anyway, I gotta get back to work, baby.”
“Yeah, yeah, of course. Sorry. I look forward to seeing you for our date soon.”
“No problem. Ditto. Can’t wait to see you.” And then the call ended.
She sat there still with so many questions. What drew Lennox to this man? What made him realize he needed help in the first place, and when was he no longer afraid to get the assistance he needed? On top of all that, she had no idea that Lennox was even into interracial dating, let alone open to speaking to a guru about it. Most of the girlfriends she’d seen of his when they were younger had been White. It was burning her up all of a sudden to not have more clarity on the matter. Unable to shake it, she shot him a quick text message:
You don’t have to answer right away, and I never thought to ask before now because I guess it just didn’t matter. Why would you take courses from a man with expertise on interracial dating? I mean I know he speaks about relationships and marriage in general, but I never saw you with any Black women. Am I your first? You can be honest. I won’t be angry either way. I just want to know.
She poured herself a cup of hot tea, then returned back to reading…
…There was a time when some so-called scholars tried to imply that the woman’s brain was less intelligent because on average, it is a little smaller than her male counterparts. Well, of course it’s smaller on average, dumb asses! Women typically have a smaller bone structure than men, so naturally, her organs, protected by the bo nes and muscle, would be smaller than ours, too.
There was another theory that women are slaves to their emotions. Some are, some aren’t– just like some men are, and others aren’t. Yet, men are far more likely to be a loose cannon, and that is because of our hormones. We are literally manufactured to pop off when we feel it is necessary, so how can we claim that women hold the heavyweight title on this?
All of this confusion is designed to once again keep women in check. Trying to use so-called medical evidence that is skewed and proven unfounded to drive a weak point home. Trying to use divine intervention and religion. Trying to use guilt trips. All of these are tools of the game. The tactics are endless. Pimping at its finest. We say: How dare you question me, woman! Your brain is smaller than mine. You’re mentally slower than me. You’re too damn emotional. You’re a nincompoop, and thank God that I am here to guide you, or there is no telling where you’d be! Uh, happy. That’s where they’d probably be.
Nadia burst out laughing.
We tell women: You are too weak to build and create. You need me to tell you what to do and how to do it because you have no direction and are easily confused. And you know what? All around the world we say this shit, and we get away with it. This all started because of our own insecurity, but now we’ve placed the disease of insecurity onto the backs of our lovers, forcing them to carry the weight.
The Black woman is the first portal of life on the planet Earth. We’ve convinced her that she’s less rational than us. We’ve convinced her that she needs us to direct her every step of the way. We even have her going to church mostly by herself, so more of the same scare tactics can be driven into her head. We trained her well, like a dog. All we ended up doing in the long run is teaching her how to walk right the fuck out of our lives. We’ve become the bitch to our own egos. Stop reacting. Don’t yell. Don’t cry. Don’t martyrize. Don’t hit. Don’t threaten. MOTHERFUCKER, JUST DO BETTER!
Nadia paused and shook her head, fighting tears of elation. Some things that her mother said, Saint was saying too, only in a different way, with a better explanation. Mama may not be wrong about everything after all.
Most of the time when a heterosexual woman is insecure, it is tied into the approval, validation, or endorsement of the male gender. She feels she isn’t pretty enough. Her hair isn’t nice enough. She’s too fat. Too skinny. Too short. Too tall. Her ass is too little. Her breasts too small or too big. It’s always something. She compares herself to other women and will fight another woman for an unworthy man who is playing both of them. She’s trying to meet unrealistic expectations, imposed by someone who doesn’t even know where the hell her clitoris is.
Nadia burst out laughing again, from the gut.
The majority of the Black woman’s trauma, in America in particular, comes from two roots: Racism and Men. Black women traded in one slave master for another. Can you guess who that is? ‘ Well, that’s not fair, Dr. Aknaten! ’ I hear that shit all the time from men. I don’t give a shit about something not being fair if it is accurate. The truth is not fair, men. It is not unfair, either. It simply IS .
So many men have approached me, upset when I make that statement about women’s suffering. This is a biological male problem, regardless of race, ethnicity, or creed. I am talking about all of us. All men feed into the dysfunctional system of controlling our women. We first have to understand what we are doing, then the second step is to understand WHY we are doing it.
Another reason, besides insecurity, is because we’re threatened if they don’t help us. If they don’t give us what we want, when we want it. We are intimidated if they start to collectively think for themselves. Some of the men at my seminars and conferences say, but Dr. Saint Aknaten, how can you say all of this when there are horrible women out here, too? There are mothers having children that we didn’t want, and raising them wrong. Teaching them how to take advantage of men, and not taking care of their responsibilities. How can you say that, Dr. Aknaten, when there are women lying, scheming, keeping our children away from us, and playing us, too? It’s not just us.
They scream this from the rooftops. They call me a panderer, and a simp. Never to my face, but online all day and night, because they are cowards and don’t have the fucking balls to look me in my eye and say this silly simple Simon shit. I’m not above beating a mothafucka’s ass, but I digress. All jokes aside, I really don’t care about name-calling from boys masquerading as men. You’re a damn child. You’re nowhere near my level if you have this sort of remedial reasoning. And I don’t care about your fucking feelings, either. Fuck a feeling. Feelings don’t change shit. They improve nothing. They are completely unreliable. I care about logic, facts with substantiated data, and reality when it comes to decision making and accountability. I care about making improvements, rather than pointing fingers at the wrong shit just so we don’t have to do the work of self-improvement. We are not victims. We are perpetrators.
The reality is that 90% of shitty women became that way due to having derelict, absentee, or destructive fathers, as well as mothers who put destructive men above themselves and their children. IN 90% OF THE CASES, A MAN STANDS BEHIND THE FUCKED-UP BEHAVIOR OF A FUCKED-UP WOMAN. WE ARE ALWAYS SOMEWHERE IN THE FUCKED-UP MIX, AREN’T WE?
Most women in prison right now are there due to some dealings with a man. She was either a drug mule for a man, or she was on drugs because of trauma from either a romantic partner or male family member… which led to a life of self-abuse and crime. She was introduced to drugs by a man, or killed him in a crime of passion, after perhaps finding him in bed with another woman.
Perhaps she took the fall for a guy and didn’t actually commit the crime herself, or she participated in a crime orchestrated by a man in her life, or she had to off him because he was doing insane or violent things to her or her children. When women steal, kill, hurt for a thrill, I can promise you that in most cases, a man is involved. That’s just how the ball bounces. 90% of these scheming, lying, manipulative, dirty, horrible women are created from a botched core memory– bad or absentee fathers is a common one. It’s more often than not traced back to the childhood in the majority of these cases, and then fed from other incidents throughout our adolescence and adulthood… but the thing that got the ball rolling was dear ol’ dad.
The sprinkler system, remember? That’s us. The sprinkler system that wants to be adored and worshiped and treated like the garden sometimes stops working and watering the flowers and plants, then gets angry when those flowers and plants grow up crooked, dry, and damaged! We blame them for being fucked up! We judge and sneer in disgust.
DADDIES! DON’T CALL YOUR DAUGHTER AN IDIOT. A WHORE. A CUM DUMPSTER. DON’T ACT LIKE YOU DON’T KNOW HOW SHE GOT THE WAY SHE DID. DON’T SAY THAT HER MOTHER TURNED HER AGAINST YOU, OR TAUGHT HER WRONG. YOU SHARE THE BLAME IF THAT IS TRUE! IF YOU TRULY WERE CONCERNED AND BELIEVED THIS, YOU WOULD HAVE DONE ALL YOU COULD TO BE IN THAT LITTLE FLOWER’S LIFE! YOU WOULD HAVE FOUGHT AS HARD TO BE WITH HER AS YOU DO FOR YOUR VICES: WEED, BEER, LIQUOR AND WINE, ATTENTION, FOOD, WOMEN OR JUST SOME RANDOM PUSSY THAT YOU RAW-DOGGED.
YOU WOULD HAVE WOKEN UP IN THE MORNING, brIGHT AND EARLY, AND TOOK YOUR ASS TO COURT INSTEAD OF SLEEPING IN! YOU WOULD HAVE BEEN FIGHTING TO SEE YOUR BABY INSTEAD OF COMPLAINING, STARTING BOOTLEG, DUSTY ASS, IGNORANT PODCASTS SCREAMING FOR HOURS ABOUT HOW, ‘THESE BITCHES AIN’T LOYAL.’ ! YOU WOULD HAVE BEEN FIGHTING TO GET AT LEAST JOINT CUSTODY! FIGHTING FOR THAT BABY THAT DESERVES BETTER IF YOU THINK HER MOTHER IS SUCH GARBAGE! INSTEAD, YOU LEFT HER THERE. YOU ABANDONED HER. YOU PLAYED THE VICTIM. YOU GOT MAD THAT YOU HAD TO PAY $100 A MONTH IN CHILD SUPPORT. YOU WERE ANGRY THAT SHE KEPT THE BABY AFTER SHE TOLD YOU THAT SHE WAS PREGNANT– AND HAD THE GALL TO BE SURPRISED WHEN YOU KNOCKED HER UP, AFTER RAW-DOGGING HER FOR MONTHS.
IF YOU TRULY CARED, YOU WOULD HAVE WORKED TWO OR THREE JOBS TO SAVE UP MONEY TO HIRE A GOOD LAWYER, FIND A BETTER PLACE TO LIVE, GET A RELIABLE CAR SO YOU COULD HELP RAISE YOUR CHILD! AIN’T NO WAY I WOULD LET MY WIFE RAISE MY CHILDREN WITHOUT ME IN THE PICTURE TO HELP. IT’S NOT THAT SHE’S NOT A GREAT MOTHER, SHE IS, BUT EVEN THE BEST OF MOTHERS STRUGGLE IF THEY HAVE TO DO IT ALONE! MY CHILDREN NEED ME! THEY NEED US 24/7! THEY’RE NOT JUST THE RESULT OF BUSTING A NUT! IT’S A JOB BEING A FATHER, AND AN HONOR!
THESE ARE SOULS THAT YOU HELPED USHER INTO THE FUCKING WORLD! THEY TOOK A CHANCE ON YOU. THEY BELIEVE IN YOU. THEY THINK YOU ARE THE CLOSEST THING TO GOD! THIS IS SERIOUS! DON’T SAY DEROGATORY SHIT ABOUT THAT YOUNG LADY YOU HELPED CREATE. YOU FORFEITED YOUR RIGHT TO TALK SHIT ABOUT THAT BABY GIRL WHEN YOU DID NOT WATER HER! WOMEN CAN’T WATER! WE ARE THE FUCKING SEED AND WATERING HOSE! SEMEN IS MORE THAN FLUID! IT’S THE FIRST WATERING. IT TELLS THE EGG THAT WE ARE THE FATHERS, AND WE’RE READY TO GET TO WORK! THE EGG SAYS, ‘BET. I GOT IT FROM HERE. MEET ME AGAIN IN NINE MONTHS!’ WE POUR INTO THAT VESSEL, AND THAT WOMAN, AS ALWAYS, MAKES SOMETHING BETTER! WHEN THAT BABY IS BORN, YOU CAN START WATERING HER OR HIM AGAIN. GIVING KNOWLEDGE. LOVE. UNDERSTANDING.
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 .
Don’t come to me harping about the evils of women and how they’re Satan’s spawn, when I know even regardless of the incident that happened in my own life, which was criminal, iniquitous, humiliating, and disturbing for myself and my wife, it pales in comparison to what we as a gender have done to our female counterparts. Most of us men are the ones doing the most heinous, diabolic shit out in this world. Most of us who have no issues getting women, can count only a few incidents, or less, of a woman doing us wrong. But the times we’ve done women wrong are probably in the hundreds!
And worst of all, we are doing it because we can! If the woman says no, we can physically make her. We weren’t created stronger than them so that we could assault them! We were made stronger so we can protect them! Shame on you. We set this bullshit in motion! And even in my own personal situation, the one I’ve been discussing in a roundabout way, a terrible thing happened to me because of shit I had done to HER. I wasn’t innocent. I had fucked her over, a woman that loved me while we were together, and instead of appreciating that, I mentally abused her, and she never forgot it.
She lost her mind and vowed to get revenge on me, and boy, did she ever. No, I didn’t deserve what happened to me in the least, and I did receive justice, but I understand cause and effect. We as men will dog women out a thousand times. The one time a woman wrongs us, we forget about our own pasts, and focus on the one time we were done greasy. Then every woman after her has to pay for our broken heart. That’s bullshit. Shift how you treat people, and people will treat you better. You’ll attract better vibes and energy. Now, let’s continue…
The statistics prove what I am saying to you is true. I don’t have to make up any of this. The facts are already proven, and I have my sources at the end of this book, should you be inclined to do the research yourself so you can reach your own conclusions as I did.
Nadia quickly flipped to the back of the book and began skimming the eight pages of sources listed. Wow. She then landed on his photo again and smiled. I know his wife has fun with him. Whew! It should be a crime to be this fine.
…Whether something is fact or just my opinion, I will state that. Women who come from caring homes with two loving parents where both are devoted, and the father is active in his children’s lives, are far less likely to be volatile as adults. Period. Don’t argue with me . Argue with your daddy. Some of you motherfuckers are quick to say, ‘Single mothers are the worst.’ Or, ‘I bet she came from a single parent home. That’s why she’s screwed up!’ If she did, and we believe your theory, then wouldn’t that make the father partially responsible due to his absence?
I don’t want to hear about all of these unfounded historical theories about the man being kept out of the home due to governmental interference, either. Those are half-truths that were used to emotionally manipulate people. The full story, with sources, as to what happened are cited in the back of this book, but to play Devil’s advocate, let’s pretend that these tall tales were true– I still say unto you: Where there is a will, there is a way. We as men manage to do so many things, and if there is something not getting done, then that means we don’t want to put in the effort to get it done! Period.
If it takes two people to create a baby, then why in the king kong fuck are you just blaming the women? I can tell you why: because you want to be a victim. You want to wear the skirt. You want to be coddled. You want it both ways. You want to go 50/50, but be treated like you brought 100. You want to be treated like an alpha and a baby at the same damn time, when really you’re an incel with a God complex because your own father wasn’t shit, either. I swear some of y’all are out of your fucking minds, and you’re too dumb to know it. I said it. Don’t like it? Close the book. I don’t give a fuck.
I can’t even see you right now. I’m probably watching movies in my man-cave as you read this, on vacation enjoying myself under the warm sun while drinking Pina Coladas on a beach, in my office helping someone who actually gives a damn about improving their life, on a golf course or basketball court showing off my athletic moves, or better yet, fucking the shit out of my beautiful queen on our brand-new silk sheets. I ate this discussion and left no crumbs, and the only thing left up in the air is my woman’s legs. You think I care about you getting mad because I told you that YOU are the fucking problem, and that you’re an idiot? I see you’re still reading. Maybe you’re not so dumb after all .
She cackled at that.
This is simple. Unless someone is a raging sociopath with a neurological disorder, it is extremely rare for a biological woman to sit up here in this big, wide world and destroy it. She cannot willingly destroy that from which she is! The bitch (female dog, literally) does not chew off its own tail and then wonders where it is. The lioness does not eat her own heart and wonders why she is dying! A mountain does not crash on itself and then ask why it crumbled! Self-preservation is key with all womb carriers, regardless of whether they are fertile or not, because they are programmed to create, not destroy! We cannot destroy that from which we are!
Men can do that because we are not the main creators, contrary to what we at times believe, and we are programmed by nature to conquer and destroy. This is because that’s how we had to protect our families, especially in ancient times, since we are naturally more physical and violent. There’s nothing wrong with that if it is utilized in the correct way. It has to be controlled, though. These hormones, called androgen, include testosterone. They are what make us men. They can cause us to be extremely destructive if not kept in check. That is one of the many reasons we need women! They have the power to stop us from annihilating ourselves! They are our balance, and we are supposed to be theirs. But instead, we decided to try and take over for the ’99 and 2000s! We are angry. We are horny. We are physically strong. That’s a bad combination if we’re unhinged. We are unable to be multi-taskers efficiently for long periods of time.
Again, research it. There are always exceptions to the rules, outliers, but I am focusing on the large majority. Not the small percentages that are contrary to the rule. As men, we need purpose. We are the ones who need direction.
We need someone who knows how to soothe us and calm us down. Feminine energy is required to do that. We need someone to place our seed inside of, too– whether that is reproductive-wise, or simply our ideas. Someone to bounce concepts off of, world building, goals, plans. A partner in crime. In other words, men need vessels to pour into. That’s a woman. We pour into her and then, she takes it and makes something better. On the other side of that coin, women need to be able to nurture, grow, and make things. It doesn’t have to be a man or a child, but they need something to create and take care of. In other words, someone needs to guard the gate while they grow their garden.
Someone must build the gate that keeps the garden safe and stand before it to protect it. We as men need something that is beautiful, that we can come home to. It doesn’t have to be beautiful to everyone else, but it must be beautiful to us . I don’t just mean physically; I am talking about a woman’s essence. Something that is nothing like us. Something that balances us out. If this system is disturbed, this divinely created arrangement that was formed since human creation, it breeds confusion. It breeds contempt and violence. It breeds cultish mentalities. The blind will lead the blind, thus bringing out the worst in people, especially the need to control and manipulate. To bully. This state of affairs enables trauma bonding, feeding the people that get their rocks off behind creating, instilling, and encouraging more trauma.
Women and men are not the same. We are equal, but not the same. I don’t give a monkey’s chaffed ass about being politically correct. Facts and truth do not care about politics. Politics are a game. They are lies to control the masses. I’ve never tried to win a popularity contest. We are biologically different, and there is nothing wrong with that. It’s beautiful. It should be celebrated instead of denied or shunned. I’m not apologizing for it, either.
Men, we have to be better sprinklers. Women are the fruit of the earth. They are the product of a perfect ecosystem. When you yield a bad crop, it is because of WHAT IS BEING PUT IN IT, WHAT YOU NEGLECTED TO DO, OR WHAT YOU DID NOT CONTROL THAT ENDED UP DESTROYING IT. An apple does not become foul on its own. Something happened. No apple chooses to rot. A flower does not choose to wilt and die! Who was manning the gate?! Who allowed an infestation to ruin the crops?! Who turned off the water?! Come on, men! Think! We created this bullshit, so it is up to us to turn it around. We are in big trouble, and we know it. Women are choosing to be alone in the woods with a damn bear, versus with us. This is all in direct response to the rising violence against women, and men not allowing them autonomy.
We are afraid right now. Men find themselves in desperate times. I know all about it, because I’m getting massive amounts of calls and emails. MAYDAY. Our gardens have entered a premature winter, or maybe this is long overdue. Regardless, the garden is figuring out ways to get watered without us. Everything in nature finds a way around a problem if it directly impacts their existence and ability to survive. It’s called evolution.
Where is the fucking water? Women are no longer asking us that because they know the answer. Men have drank it, and most of what’s left, we’ve contaminated with manipulation and lies. Where is the gotdamn sun? We have destroyed it with verbal abuse, known as gasses and pollution. Where is the soil? We’ve dug it all up, slung it at each other in dick slinging contests, and poisoned the rest with pesticides and pettiness. Then we have the audacity to be upset about the jacked-up produce and foliage of the garden.
No, sir. You don’t get to throw stones and hide your hand. Fruits are a direct reflection of their environment and care. Rather than look in the mirror, we deflect. We make up irrational reasoning. We blame our mothers, and their mothers, too. Meanwhile, fathers get off scot-free, only to go on and make the exact same mistakes they did last decade, and the decade before that. When you don’t reprimand wrongdoing, the wrongdoer believes they are right. Men say they are doers, even though they– WE– do every fucking thing except take accountability.
The worst thing the women of Earth ever did was hand us the keys to drive. Since then, we chose to drive them over the cliff. Look at the world. Murders all over the damn place. Sex exploitation and sex trafficking. Robberies, senseless attacks, theft, elder abuse, and sexual assaults. Men hitting women in the face with closed fists when they turn them down for a date. We have run our countries, our continents, our world and our women into the ground. Look at all these wars and all this poverty across the globe. We did that. Nothing has been solved. The same wars have continued for what seems like a lifetime. All for the three Ps. Pussy. Power. Pennies. Our families are destroyed. We run the world, and the world is now running away from us.
We can’t blame women for that, too, though we try to. The Earth is a hellhole because of US. Because of you. Because of me. This is the aftermath of trauma. When you try to dominate that which you were never supposed to have dominion over in the first place, eventually, the oppressed will rise up. They will find a way to either hide from you or defeat you. At the end of the day, it comes down to this: They don’t want you. Not because of how you look, but because of how you behave. That’s why I am here, gentlemen, after all of these years of protecting the Black Queen, encouraging men to pursue women the right way. And I am still learning. I too fall short at times.
Protecting and loving hard on your woman is a sign of potency, not limitation. The fact that we believe this is a flaw in this day and age shows just how messed up we are. Who told us this? Who taught us that showing emotions in a healthy way, openly expressing love and desire for a woman rather than anger, is a pathetic thing? We’re so afraid of other men thinking that we’re weak, we’ve allowed fragile men to define what is power.
Who told us that we no longer have to earn a woman’s trust and body? You have so-called relationship experts who have not stepped one foot in a class about human psychology or relationships, telling people with a straight face that all women need to be putting out. That they’ve hit the wall. Every straight man isn’t promised pussy! That’s some incel shit because let me tell you right here, right now: No true alpha male has ever had to force himself on a woman, or demand pussy. The panties drop when we walk up in the motherfucking room! Half of you motherfuckers shouldn’t even be fucking in the first place, and quite frankly, half of you in that same percentage shouldn’t have even been born if the correct rules were actually in place and being adhered to. You’re a liability! An embarrassment! A walking disaster! You can’t cut it, and you blame women instead of yourself. All you’re doing is wasting that woman’s time, and standing in a real alpha’s way.
Who told us that women have to submit to us, just because we have a dick? That’s not how this works. I am a scholar. I am a learner. I am a teacher. I am a sprinkler, trying to be a farmer. A garden provides beauty, health, and nourishment. But you have to water it. If you take care of her, she will grow.
Gentlemen, it’s time to water the garden within you, that hurt little boy. You are ill. Do you want to get well? It’s possible. You can’t help but be sick because we are all born into toxicity. The world is ailing, so we have no choice but to enter it in a state of trauma from day one. Dysfunctional lovers trapped in toxic relationships happen long before the two people meet. They start in our childhood. We dream of the past, but the nightmare we keep creating for ourselves must end today, or there will be no future…
She closed the book and looked off into the distance. She wanted to read the next chapter, but a mental and emotional break was warranted. Rather than taking a shower or napping, though, she found herself up on her feet, staring at a picture of her father that she had saved on her phone. He was handsome. He was laughing in the photo, a twinkle in his eye. She could see a bit of herself in him. Actually, a lot of herself.
Daddy, I’m trying to forgive you. I just wish I knew where to start. I’m sorry that I was such a disappointment to you. I hated you for what you did to me and Mama, and for the fact you were a terrible father all of my life. Then, after you got out of prison, you created a new family as though I didn’t even exist. You became religious, found God, and I wanted to punish you for abandoning me .
When you did come around, it was only to judge me. When I called to tell you that I had been assaulted, you answered the phone, told me you were busy and would call me right back before I even got a single sentence out. But you never did call back… I lay in the hospital bed, in terrible pain, and cried myself to sleep. I didn’t try to tell you what happened after that. That night, I needed my daddy! But you weren’t around. You didn’t water me. You didn’t even bother to spit in my direction…