At times, when I look at the people in this world who are losing their shit over the election of Donald Trump, I have to pause — not just to give my diaphragm a rest from laughing and wipe the water out of my eyes, but to actually understand their perspective for a moment. They actually believe that this is the end of the world. They have been convinced by the alphabet soup media, and raised-fist leftist professors in academic echo chambers, that Trump and his minions are going to round up everyone who isn’t white and haul them off to the gas chambers in cattle cars, and grab everyone who isn’t male by the pussy. They actually think that’s what this election result means.
I didn’t say that their hysteria was a bad thing, did I? Instead, I’ll say this, looking back to 2008 and 2012: payback’s a bitch.
Then I saw this article, and realized that good things are leading to more good things. The idea of Trump as president causing baggage-laden women to stop trying to attach themselves to a man and tough it out on their own is killing two birds with one stone.
In August, I went on six dates in one week. I had decided that I was ready to look for a partner. Enough of this dating unavailable men a half-decade younger than me. They’d never seriously consider a relationship with me, my two children and our needy dog. No. I wanted to find an equal. A man who wouldn’t feel the need to step in and rescue me. I didn’t need rescuing.
But I knew deep down that was only partially true. I often felt the sort of loneliness that settled in my stomach, starting from a chaotic afternoon with my children, lasting well into the night when I pulled covers tight around my chin.
. . . . .
But two weeks later, the election happened. Once it was clear that Donald Trump would be president instead of Hillary Clinton, I felt sick to my stomach. I wanted to gather my children in bed with me and cling to them like we would if thunder and lightning were raging outside, with winds high enough that they power might go out. The world felt that precarious to me.
My oldest came out of her room the next morning to show me the money the Tooth Fairy had left her. She’d unexpectedly had to have a tooth pulled, and so bravely went through it that I said, “Just think: You’ll always remember the day you got a tooth pulled with the day we elected our first female president.”
When I told her Trump had won, she protested: “But Mom. You said Hillary was going to win.”
“A lot of people thought the same thing,” I said. I hugged her, a little scared to send her to school, out into the big sky country of the red state where we live.
. . . . .
That urge to cling to my family while keeping our foundation strong didn’t mesh well with continuing to date the man I’d been seeing. He also has a daughter. He, too, had been feeling a lot of the same emotions I was experiencing: hopelessness; fear; uncertainty about the future; panic over having to talk to my 9-year-old about anything that might come up at school, or what to do in the instance of sexual assault. But I couldn’t reach out to him anymore. He was too new, too unfamiliar.
. . . . .
I’ve lost the desire to attempt the courtship phase. The future is uncertain. I am not the optimistic person I was on the morning of Nov. 8, wearing a T-shirt with “Nasty Woman” written inside a red heart. It makes me want to cry thinking of that. Of seeing my oldest in the shirt I bought her in Washington, D.C., that says “Future President.”
There is no room for dating in this place of grief. Dating means hope. I’ve lost that hope in seeing the words “President-elect Trump.”
Well, I say good luck to them. I sincerely do wish them well, and hope that they can be successfully independent of men’s help and resources. I want to see these women thrive in the Trump era, clinging to their children and safe from this new, mean world, where men might not be systematically antagonized as much as they would have been under the Great Whore of Arkansas.
I say this, of course, for my own sake and for the sake of men everywhere. MGTOW and WGTOW are complementary forces, and we should all give credit where credit is due.