My Art Blog
So, it’s been what I’m pretty sure is the longest hiatus I’ve ever had between journals. How ‘bout that. Well, I think it makes a certain amount of sense, given the vast changes that have taken place in the interim. In other words, I’ve been distracted. Yup, that’s my excuse, and it’s also the subject I mean to write about today, so...
I’ve written on this post on and off, wanting to be sure to get everything right. It’s going to be very long, and it might not be the best put-together thing, but I’ve been trying to get all my thoughts down, and give a bit of an order to them.
Let’s call it the way in which I went from what I think is the standard amount (for people of my similar upbringing) of subconscious acceptance of mainstream feminism to actually having some grasp of reality. How did this happen? Well, if we were to point to the one definitive moment where my life changed totally in such a manner as I have yet to comprehend the entirety of its magnitude, it would have to be this one: Nine years ago, I met GamerintheZone and, well, fell madly in love with him.
Now, at the time, I placed little significance on this. From the point of view of a boy-crazy and frumpily unattractive 14-year-old, this seemed to be no more than the latest in a long line of unrequited crushes. I had no expectations of anything coming of it, and had just enough experience with the boys I liked not liking me back to have come to the conclusion that the only purpose attraction was ever liable to serve for me was just as a sort of detached appreciation of a guy’s good looks. I remember comparing it to having a crush on a fictional character; you don’t care that he doesn’t like you back because you’re not part of the same universe as he is. I’d given up entirely on romance and marriage, but... I couldn’t really live with the idea that I’d HAD to give up on this because no men wanted me. In order to be bearable, it had to be on MY terms. Thus my rationalization hamster ran round and round on his wheel and conjured up a brand new ‘vocation’ for me of ‘writing a story,’ which of necessity also excluded marriage. Sorry, boys, I CAN’T marry you! (I might have delighted in saying, if the elusive ‘boys wishing to marry me’ had ever materialized) I have a HIGH AND LONELY DESTINY of WRITING A STORY.
Now, presently, I still am plugging away at writing aforementioned story (however slowly) and I do still think of it as an worthwhile thing to do, but the exclusion of marriage part of my contract is looking rather like an arbitrary sour grapes situation I may have manufactured to make myself feel better, and then falsely attributed to God’s Totally Awesome And Special Plan For Anna’s Life. But I’m getting a bit ahead of myself.
So, in the midst of this silly ‘I am too much the mostest specialest’ mindset, the closest my crush on GamerintheZone ever got to anything remotely charitable was ‘If I were someone who was going to get married, he’s the guy I’d marry.’ And that is the up-and-down truth of the matter.
Did you catch the absurd implicit assumption in there? Let me run it by you once more.
‘If I were someone who was going to get married, he’s the guy I’d marry.’
What’s missing from that notion? You guessed it; the idea that he would be willing to marry me. Why wasn’t that important? Because the entire thing was pretend. As long as no attempt was ever made to get him to like me (which I intended for there not to be) and no notion that I liked him ever reached him (which I intended for it not to do) I could pretend that, should things be different, I could have him for the taking. Therefore, his not going with me was painted not as because he had no desire to do so, but instead as because of my decision to remain unwed, thus rewriting reality to be wholly MY choice, and not at all HIS.
Ah, but what brought this fantasy crashing down, you wonder? No, it wasn’t the simple truth that a tall, dark, handsome man who makes a living lifting heavy objects MIGHT not be interested in a fat, ornery, irritable girl who rarely bathed. It was something that has a much more immediate and spectacular effect on the female psyche.
Never once in my idiotic dream world where I came down off my high horse to offer him the great gift of my favor did I factor in the idea that maybe, just maybe, his interests were elsewhere. Nor the idea that other girls might be interested in him. Furthermore, that these other girls might be PRETTIER THAN ME. Not anticipating this was, I admit, sheer idiocy on my part. He’s one helluva catch. That girls, and high status girls, might want to snap him up, and that he might be more inclined towards going with the prettier girls who weren’t just silently imagining a relationship with him but actually pursuing one, really rather made me go, well, sort of crazy. Not only did this shatter the illusion that I could TOTALLY have him if I wanted him because he’d TOTALLY be available and reciprocal, ya know IF I wanted him but also because I could tell by the relative attractiveness of the other girls that he was, as he always had been, WAY OUT OF MY LEAGUE. I should have been able to tell this from the fact that he is hot, and I was not, but women generally only seem to be able to rank themselves against other women. It wasn’t until he’d dated a few girls that I could plainly see outranked me by at least a good 3 or 4 points that it finally became apparent to me that maybe I couldn’t TOTALLY have him after all, AND that YES I did want him.
You can see how those two revelations on top of each other may have caused some distress.
By this time I was living in the very isolated spooky woods with only my sister FireFiriel, and with a job as an after-hours janitor, so it wasn’t rare for me to go weeks without seeing another living soul besides her, except at church. Here was a rare opportunity for contemplative study, and thus began a great overhaul in my opinions on nearly everything. Simultaneously happening was the nail-biting 2016 presidential race, and Jorge Bergoglio’s continued attack on the Church that even a simple lay person such as myself could no longer fail to notice. I started reading Vox Day and Anne Barnhardt, trying to deepen my understanding of both situations. A subject they both frequently speak about is the damage of feminism to Western Civilization. Now here is where I finally started to see just how ignorant I was. Sure I’d always CLAIMED I was against feminism, but I had NO FREAKIN’ IDEA just how SATURATED in it I was! How many completely feminist, completely loopy ideas that fall apart with even the most rudimentary logical/moral examination was I just taking for granted? Grrrl power? Check. Women don’t need no men? Check. Never change yourself for a man? Check. Low level acceptance of no-fault divorce and the child-support system as necessary evils? Check. Rape culture hysteria? Check. I have a right to expect men to be attracted to me without any effort on my part? Check check and CHECK.
In the section of the blogosphere I was reading, they call this ‘taking the red pill.’
So there I was, in the midst of my own none-too-optimistic romantic quandary, and also having learned that EVERYTHING I THOUGHT I KNEW WAS WRONG, when what do you suppose happened? GamerintheZone asked me out.
To say this came as a surprise would be a vast understatement.
During the course of my miserable turmoil over the subject, the fact that I liked him had somehow, well, become something he knew about. Since, back in the present, he is now my boyfriend, I will neither question nor criticize his decision to ask me out. Suffice to say, it was the luckiest break I have ever gotten.
As such, given my newfound information on just how pervasive and false feminism is, and on inter-relations between the sexes, I was met with a revelation that will shock and horrify feminists everywhere: I had a responsibility to actually MAKE AN EFFORT to be a good girlfriend. One thing feminists and Christian women alike (of which there is an unfortunate overlap) take as sacrosanct is the idea of “being true to yourself” as some kind of holy anointed virtue, and what they usually mean by this is to behave however you please, and disregard everyone else. The problem, however, with saying “This is who I am. Take it or leave it,” is that it does, in fact, include the option of the other person ‘leaving it,’ which the women never seem to anticipate. So yes, I undertook the great mortal sin of the feminist church, and set about changing myself for a man. Why? Because there were things WRONG with me, and becoming a girl worthy of his attention was finally a good enough motivation for me to FIX them. Also imagine, if you will, if we applied the same principle equally to both sexes. If a teenage boy who just started dating a girl decides that now would be a great time to get himself a job in order to start saving for their future, does anyone warn him that he shouldn’t because that would be “changing himself for a woman?” Of course they don’t. OF COURSE men want to signal provider status to women. OF COURSE women want to be desirable to men. This is what drives the marriage market. When we remove these motivators, we get people not marrying. Gee isn’t it funny how that happened...
Generally, then, you get people trying to champion self-improvement while still trying to keep things squarely in as feminist (ie, selfish) terms as possible. “Well YES it’s good for you to wash your hair more than once a week, but do it for YOU, not for HIM.” That’s right, you can do things, but only if your motivations are purely selfish, and you’re not considering anyone else’s good at all.
“Yes you can get that person a Christmas present, but only if giving it to them makes YOU happy, and you aren’t at all motivated by making THEM happy.” Good gravy...
But I digress, there were, as I’ve said, a myriad of things wrong with me, so I set about fixing them. Fortunately, I’d already made the biggest part of the attitude adjustment needed by losing my sense of entitlement to male attention, and accepting that feminism is a diabolical lie straight from the bowels of hell. So what was left was just to conform my outer behavior to these principles. I was a little unsure HOW exactly to do this, but in the same section of the blogosphere mentioned previously, I found Dalrock, and got a lot of good ideas there. (I should also credit him for a great deal of the phraseology I’ve been using here.) For the first time in my life, there was a reason to set standards for my appearance, personality, and health. I lost 40+ pounds, (losing weight isn’t NEARLY as hard as I was sure it would be when I’d never tried it.) started keeping my hair clean, stopped dressing like a frump all the time, and vehemently began addressing my health problems that I had been largely ignoring. (these two pictures work pretty well as ‘before and after’ if you’re curious. eightcrows.deviantart.com/art/… , eightcrows.deviantart.com/art/… ) I got his input on how he liked me to dress and have my hair. Most of all though, I began making a careful and willful effort to be as agreeable and pleasant as I could. I defer to his judgment, I follow his lead, I do what he tells me to do. I try not to argue with him or undermine him in any way. I try to make being around me something he will enjoy, and want to continue doing.
In short, I love him, and I’m trying my best to express that to him.
I’ve come to learn that pleasing a man (get your mind out of the gutter I don’t mean like THAT) is the foremost joy in a woman’s life. I’m never so happy as when I can make him happy. Never felt so loved as by loving him. If (God willing) we become husband and wife, I will devote my life to him, and I am sure that will be a much better life than anything I could make by myself.
And that’s what feminists want to be sure no woman ever gets. How can ANYONE possibly believe they have women’s best interests at heart??
Now I’m not saying I’ve done everything right. I’ve messed up a LOT. But he has been very patient with me, and I keep trying. There are things that don’t come naturally to me, and some things are still very difficult. As we are in a long distance relationship, there’s some very tough aspects and decisions on the table. I’m still learning to let go of what *I* want, and focus on doing what HE wants, and trusting that he will do what’s best for the BOTH of us. 20 years of feminist media brainwashing doesn’t disappear in an instant. The important thing is now I have his help, and with it, I will keep trying to be the best girlfriend for him that I can.
And hopefully, someday, I can be the best wife for him too.