No matter how increasingly aware women become of how little they actually need a “man,” there’s always going to be that sect that persists in carrying on with the so-called tradition of monogamy and the associated trajectory of marriage, an institution that, like the presidency, is frivolous, but still sort of cute (or would be if the person embodying its post at the moment didn’t induce vomiting on sight).
With the territory of marriage often comes a sense of possession and entitlement, usually on the “man’s” part if his wife is blatantly more attractive than he is. That being said, an inexorable tendency toward monitoring even the smallest, most insignificant of activities can start to become par for the domesticity course. Whether she’s washing the dishes (no doubt, ineffectually, by his standards), folding the laundry (after starching the appropriate garments, no less) or giving the requisite “at least twice a week” blow job, her “man” is sure to be watching closely, waiting to take issue with some ridiculous nuance she didn’t “perform” quite right. And the more he monitors, the more uneasy and unsettled a girl can become, questioning her every move, spiraling further and further into an Ingrid Bergman in Gaslight mentality.
Fearing the constant hovering presence of a “man” over her shoulder, the confidence with which she approaches her day-to-day former enjoyments can suddenly feel like a perpetual dry anal rape. There’s nothing worse than constantly self-questioning in the non-Socratic way, after all. It can really mess with a woman’s pretty little head. Accordingly, why don’t you try to strike the perfect balance between attentiveness and not totally ignoring? It would signal far more care on your part than hyper-vigilance, which so often stems from a place of selfishness rather than love. If that increasingly mythical concept can even exist between a “straight” “man” and woman.