Beautiful Mess

multicolored smoke

Here we are again, you and I. Which means I’m writing and you’re reading. I’ve spoken at some length about morality and my own take on it. Jack Napier and I talked about it too, on one of our Red Evenings.

I realize now what it is about so-called morality that really bugs me. It isn’t that your morality is different from mine. As far as I’m concerned, to each their own. You do your thing, just let me do mine. You don’t have to agree with how I choose to live my life, you don’t have to like it, and you don’t really even have to accept it. But please, don’t try and shove or enforce your morality upon me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.

I grew up in a home where my Mother was a master at guilt and shame. When I was little and needed discipline, she tried spanking initially. Apparently that didn’t go over too well with me. As she once told me, “I put you over my knee, spanked you, you cried, and then you gave me a look that basically said, ‘C’mon, do it again, give me another.'” I guess I had a look of defiance in my eyes. I don’t remember this incident, so maybe it happened, maybe it didn’t. I’ll just take her word that it did.

She then moved on from spanking to “time out” or “grounding.” Those I remember. Not really a punishment in my book, as being told to “go to your room,” wasn’t a bad thing. That’s where all my stuff was and in all honesty, it’s where I preferred being for the most part. Oh, she realized fairly quick that sending me to my room wasn’t the punishment that she thought it was, and so she would take things away so that I could utilize or interact with them. Still wasn’t a big deal to me. Having a strong and powerful imagination does wonders. I could literally sit and stare at a wall and entertain myself. Still can to this day if I so desire.

On a side note: on a few of the occasions that I was grounded, like during the summer, and I wanted to go outside, but wasn’t supposed to, all I had to do was “help” Mom around the house. A few “accidents” where plates and glassware ended up broken while doing the dishes, or getting under foot while she was vacuuming or dusting, and she would get exasperated with me and tell me to go outside. Think brier rabbit and the brier patch.

But sure enough, she found my Achille’s heel. Enter guilt and shame. All she would have to do is say something like, “Look what you did. You hurt Mommy really bad when you did that.” It was all over from there. A couple of tears from her, a few well placed words and I was done for.

And that shit went on for years. She got so good at it, it became second nature to her. I don’t think she was even aware that she was doing it after awhile. I don’t hold it against her, well, not much at least. It was one of the major reasons that I minimized my exposure to her as I got older and got on with my life. I didn’t want or need to hear that shit anymore.

My tolerance for guilt and shame is at an all time low these days. I barely tolerated it from my own Mother, and at least my Dad doesn’t pull that shit with me. I barely tolerated it from my own blood, why in the hell would I even dream of tolerating it from someone not even related to me? Why would I even consider it for one second of one moment from a complete stranger?

Feminists and white knights do this tactic all the time on Men. I’ve seen it so often that it doesn’t even faze me anymore. It’s expected. It’s what they do. I just shake my head, roll my eyes, laugh, ignore, and move on. But when it comes from people who claim to be “on your side,” that’s when I take issue.

I used to be very liberal when I was younger, hell, once upon a time, I considered myself a Democrat and voted that way for the most part. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve found myself a lot more moderate, and even conservative in many of my views. Not necessarily a full on Republican, but definitely more Libertarian in my political views.

It’s the Traditional Conservatives that I seem to have a love-hate relationship with these days, and it’s because they dress like me, talk like me, act like me, and have very similar views as me. And then they start with the guilt and shame. They are no better than the feminists that they claim to despise. In fact, they are just the other side of the same coin. Same tactics, guilt, and shame. They just tend to dress better, tend to look better, and tend to be healthier in their weight and diet. Otherwise, there is not much difference between them and the feminists. Just better looking women is all.

If you are using guilt and shame, especially when it comes to what I do in the privacy of my own home and bedroom, you have the problem, not me. What I do behind closed doors is none of your business.

Trying to whitewash sexuality isn’t going to work bud. Trying to sanitize and diminish the sexual libido will only intensify it. While you wail that “PUA’s” and “men of low repute” are “spoiling your women” for you, understand this:

Your women are just women. Nothing more and nothing less. They are human beings full of desires and emotions. Trying to control that through guilt and shame, for them and for other men, is just going to backfire and blow up in your face eventually. All they are going to do is take those desires and hide them from you. Then they will find someone like me, who will accept their desires as normal and natural, and I will listen to them. I won’t judge them for what they yearn for. All I will do is accept it for what it is, and then become the invitation for them to act on those desires if they so choose.

I don’t know how someone cannot or will not appreciate an earthy, lusty woman. Someone who is fully embracing her sexuality and her desires and has no fear of showing them. All of the women I meet show me this side of them, eventually. Definitely sooner rather than later, and I love that about them. And no, these aren’t the “empowered, multicolored hair, don’t shave the pits, but shaves the side of the head, with a million piercings and tats” women. These are the girls next door. These are the so-called “sunhat gods.” These are the women who dress modestly, at least for you. These are the “fresh as a summer breeze, smells nice, and sits in a pew on Sunday,” women. These are the women that you want to “wife up.” These are the women that you wait six months before having sex with. These are the women that you marry.

All Women Are Like That. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

A guy I follow on Twitter, @gospodin_rey, summed it up beautifully:

While you joke about degeneracy, the wild animal soul inside each one of us yearns to break out of the cage we put it in. And our giving permission to women and the world around us, to live true to the animal soul, is addictive and beautiful, key to the human experience.

But once you let the animal out, it is by definition… wild. And most people aren’t built for the jungle. We’re all trying to figure this crazy world out. We’re in a jungle whether we like it or not.

We are a sweaty, smelly, emotional, hormonal, lusty, angry, cranky, beautiful mess. Ignore and deny this at your own peril. Downplay it to your own dissatisfaction. Accept this for what it is and work with it, or perish on your platitudes. The choice is yours.

Welcome to the Jungle.

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