It’s rare that I run across anything Red Pill friendly over at HuffPo, but the other day I came across a very telling post from a blogger, Martha Lyles. She is essentially writing a letter to herself, from her modern perspective as a wife and mother and grandmother to the 20 year old woman she was, who was so excited about her Big Party. Ironically, this was in the “Religion” section, not the “Women”, “Weddings” or “Divorce” sections (and note there is no “Men” section...and the Democrats wonder why more men don't vote for them...) It’s entitled “Letter To A Young Bride After 43 Years Of Marriage”, and it’s a wonderful retrospective on her marriage (as opposed to her “wedding”).
I’ll let you read the whole thing – it’s quite poignant – but there is one quote I want to hone in on:
“...The same goes for being a wife. You'll marvel at Dick's unswerving commitment. You'll learn to put him first and -- believe it or not -- you'll delight in doing so. You'll see your role as his helpmate and cheerleader. You'll pack his bags for business trips, tucking love notes under ties. You'll view all the joys in your life as gifts from above, like the six wide-eyed, rosy-cheeked grandkids who clamor for your cookies and your kisses. And you'll sense, time and again, the grace conferred in your wedding Mass sustaining you as husband and wife.”
Religious sentiment aside for a moment, consider the perspective: “You’ll learn to put him first and – believe it or not – you’ll delight in doing so.”
This is not, as you might think, a “see, I toldya so!” about male dominance in a relationship. This is a “see, I toldya so!” about how you don’t get divorced.
It's also a glimpse into the real, Red Pill reality of Happily Ever After (HEA), the romantic nirvana that inspires romance novels, mommy porn, and soap operas.
After all, what is a “successful marriage”? Certainly, one in which you aren’t getting divorced has to be held as a basic standard. That doesn’t mean that your marriage is a success if you aren’t divorced, it just means that it’s “failing”, not “failed”.
When women in their youth begin to form their True Love inspired Happily Ever After fantasy, it rarely includes things like packing suitcases for their husband’s business trips or struggling through childbirth alone while your husband is on deployment. Or the ugly reality that is early childhood development. For many modern young women, the idea of “having kids” is so abstract and glamorized and sanitized for them by our culture that they don't understand the level of involvement necessary to keep them from becoming willfully ignorant drains on society.
To young women today, it's as if children were a status symbol, not a new life, merely an option like a new car with leather interior, and not a life-long personal commitment. They are allured by the feminist ideal of “equality” and "equal opportunity", which means that they see family and children (and eventual divorce and remarriage) as part of the expected checklist -- and their dedication to "equality" means they expect that whatever poor Beta chump they marry will handle all the details. (Or, conversely, that she will marry well enough to have servants to care for them like her favorite celebs.) "Happily Ever After" is a gauzy vague cloud of ill-defined bliss that follows the Honeymoon to them, the natural and inevitable conclusion to "True Love".
But True Love, Red Pill style implies a host of boring, mundane, petty little compromises that do little to empower you as a woman or see you reach “your full potential” in the feminist sense. I recently read another screed at HuffPo (not important enough to hunt down the quote) about how Michelle Obama shouldn’t have said “Being a Mother is my most important job”, because that put too much pressure on everyone to reproduce and emphasize their children over their career elements. She offered instead “Being a Woman is my most important job”, with motherhood and relationships and such secondary to her solipsistic “all about me” perspective. She didn’t even mention a husband, except as an annoyance that got in her way. Motherhood, to feminism, is a bother, a needless distraction away from the self-indulgent achievement-based Matrix climb for fame, cash and prizes.
And the term “wife” is anathema to feminists. When a feminist reflexively uses the term, it’s almost apologetic. “Husband” is often used with a proud sense of ownership, like she just got a great lease on a car, but a feminist woman rarely describes herself as a “wife” unless she’s in trouble. And a feminist has very little, if any, ideological instruction on being a wife save how to end the practice. Feminism celebrates divorce and punishes success when it comes to marriage.
Now, if you’re a long-term carousel rider with a fat trust fund, then sure, a string of wealthy ex-husbands while you assert your feminist privilege doesn’t hurt anyone but those poor chumps. Such childless, often sexless unions in the UMC have been a social bloodsport for decades. But once you start getting kids involved, shit gets real. You aren’t just splitting up the CD collection when you divorce, you’re splitting up a family with people who depend on you, and that’s got jack to do with your self-important career goals. The feminist approach to "family" in general is little better than their approach to "marriage". Gentlemen, you are warned.
But back to the successes. As I was saying, it’s important, if you want to avoid divorce, to study what goes right, as well as what goes wrong. This wonderful article is by a woman with a 43 year track record willing to impart some cosmic wisdom on you, ladies. Listen up. This is what Happily Ever After looks like, not three ex-husbands and a lonely condo full of cats in Miami.
That, of course, fuels hypergamy and divorce and other crap, but the plain fact is that feminism has rejected the Happily Ever After in favor of the EPL divorce, and now we have a nation of women bellyaching that they STILL aren't happy, despite getting everything their heart desired for 40 years. They want their Happily Ever After, but they aren't willing to do the work required. And Happily Ever After requires a lot of work. Just ask Martha Lyles.
This woman was a wife. She had a husband. She didn’t have a co-equal partner in her relationship, she had a captain of her ship to whom she was loyal and respectful. She did things for him that a feminist considers demeaning: packed his suitcase, quit school, ended her career aspirations for his benefit, raised his children, cooked his meals. She deferred to him in important ways, and often in unimportant ways, not because the custom or religious rite demanded it, but because that’s how successful marriages work.
She doesn't write about the sacrifices her husband may have made -- that's his story, not hers. She doesn't write about how hard it was and how regretful she is of her missed opportunities. She writes of the sacrifices of a woman in her marriage, but she also writes of the rewards. The Happily Ever After. Grandchildren, a big happy family, and a great husband she adores and looks up to. And she doesn’t just mention he’s a “great husband”, she describes an important attribute of his greatness in his devotion and thoroughness in helping her fight cancer. No mere domineering chauvinist is likely to do that. He repaid her sacrifice and devotion with his loyalty and steadfastness, not merely providing practical support during her struggle, but being her unwavering rock to which she clung as she wrestled with her own mortality.
Any of your weak-willed Beta future ex- husbands going to do that, feminists? Good luck.
The important thing to take away from this success story is simple: the author was not merely extolling the virtues of marriage, but she was demonstrating the necessary dedication to fulfilling Happily Ever After.
You don’t ever plan to get cancer in Happily Ever After. But you do get a strong and resilient Prince Charming willing to stand over your wounded body with a sword, keeping the monsters at bay. You don’t imagine that you’ll get piles of diapers and bills and bad report cards and problem children in Happily Ever After. But you do get a strong, disciplined father to keep order and enforce policy among your children until they can do it on their own. You might conceivably envision grandchildren in your Happily Ever After, sitting around rosy-cheeked and respectful of you. But you probably don’t understand how to get to that point – and truly appreciate it – because you have to first raise your own brood to adulthood and steer them toward their own productive relationship before you get rosy-cheeked grandbabies.
(Or was that cats?)
But it's not just a bust for single feminist career gals. It works both ways.
For those men who have eschewed the possibility of marriage in the pursuit of a permanent ticket to the Puerarchy, letting your bad experiences and fear of rejection give you a rationalization why you shouldn’t be required to invest in a 50-50 shot at success, please believe me when I tell you sincerely that I appreciate your willingness to Go Your Own Way. But you, too, are exempt from this Happily Ever After. In truth, you may change your mind at some point, when you are older and your perspectives change. Our sperm is viable into our 70s, and a mid-life family has a lot of advantages. But if you are committed to being uncommitted to a woman, then expect a long, slow decline with fewer friends alive every year, until you are alone, babbling incoherently to robots in some distant future retirement community.
Marriage is by no means for everyone. But it is not, as some would contend, not for anyone. It’s a trade-off, an exchange of commitments and obligations and sacrifices and dedications and courtesies and fears and delights and secrets and trusts and weaknesses and power and – yes – financial considerations and sex, and if you are not prepared to indulge in that kind of personal commitment and dedication (and few 20 year olds of this generation are) then I encourage you to avoid the issue entirely. Believe me, it will take the pressure off to not have to worry about marriage and family.
So put “Happily Ever After” away in your mind not as "mythical" but merely as forever out of reach. Substitute some government-subsidized retirement plan at a tropical resort where you’ll expire on the golf course or in your sleep . . . alone. Imagine a world in which you are by yourself at age 50 and the doctor mentions cancer and you realize that since your sister died you have no one in the world to call and talk to about it. That’s the "swinging single" alternative to Happily Ever After. When you’re writing up your last will and testament, and you realize that everything you own and collected and cared for will go to your niece in nephew who live in another state and who might pass you in the grocery store without recognizing you, that’s what you get when you’ve lost Happily Ever After. The real Happily Ever After.
Because Happily Ever After doesn’t mean a blissful paradise of champagne and strawberries and anniversary dinners in four-star restaurants. It doesn’t mean kinky hotel sex and romantic walks on the beach as a matter of course. There are few diamonds in for-real HEA. You want the truth? Happily Ever After can be brutal, as anyone’s life can be brutal. But Happily Ever After softens the brutality with a thick protective layer of humanity, wherein the love you pledged at the altar has grown between the two of you and expanded and transformed until it supports a web of such love that echoes across generations.
When you’re surrounded by your wife and your children and their spouses, all deeply concerned about your well-being and quality of life when your body betrays you, that’s Happily Ever After.
When your sons, grown men all, and your grandsons drop everything in their busy lives to rush to your bedside and then spring into action to build a wheelchair ramp you didn’t think you’d need, that’s Happily Ever After.
When your daughter-in-law enlists the aid of experts and researches the furthest reaches of medical science on your behalf, motivated by love and pure, unadulterated respect for the only father she has left, that’s Happily Ever After.
When an entire community floods your house with calls assuring their support, based on their deep respect for who you are and what you’ve done to touch their lives, that’s Happily Ever After.
When your wife holds your hand and cries so you won’t have to when you tell the doctor to go ahead and take the leg, that’s Happily Ever After.
This month, Papa Ironwood got an up close and personal look at the stark nature of Happily Ever After . . . and compared to the alternative, he considers himself a very blessed man. I think it made the decades of sacrifice and effort and toil to keep his marriage and his family a going concern worthwhile. Whether or not you agree with him, well, let's just say that he's got the benefit of experience to support his position.
But then, he's always been wiser than the rest of us. He wanted Happily Ever After . . . so he built it for his wife and kids, one hug, one kiss, one drop of sweat and one tear at a time.