561
SOLITUDE MEN
< Julia Rublev
Sometimes I was horrified to think, how to be a man.
By and large, about him, about a man no one thinks. What is it to live? Seals and sea lions are thinking more.
All (we will not point fingers) are only thinking about the love-disliked. Does-does not. Come, do not come. Izmenit- not change. Woman dependent on men, like a prisoner, who twisted his hands and tied the elbow joint to someone else. To her man. He stirs a little, she shipit- "hurt me!" When he dies, she pulls - what are you froze? are you alive? You treat me?
I exaggerate it, as always. But large, look into the mirror. To really think about the man can a woman who either nothing from him is not waiting, or what he calls his mother.
More and more of my friends complain about the loneliness of men. Look lonely. Choose loneliness. Sometimes they need to, we simply stroked and did not ask questions. To my shame, I can pat, but in most cases not be kept from the issues. Because anxious for itself. Or whether it concerns me. Most women I know one way or another, by hook or by crook, pulled out of the men's attitude. At least some.
Meanwhile, a man is tired and closes his eyes. He does not want to see either his business or his woman, nor its global responsibility for all. If he has that something is impossible, he asshole. He lives with a sense of "I asshole," and he does not have the magic word "but." That we all easier. I was wrong on the job, but a good husband. I have no husband, no job, but his feet. And chest. Well, yes, I'm fat, but Katka even thicker. In men, this "but" for some reason does not work. Terms of honest, rigorous and simple. You have large eggs, but no career? Well, you asshole. You Bentley, but not the woman he loved? Well, you asshole. You have a lovely woman, but not a Bentley? Well, you asshole!
They are forever embedded in the competition - once and hierarchy - two. They're always trying to find out who is the puppy and who's on the court. And sometimes, coming home, they just want to lie face down and close your eyes. Alone. Because if you are not alone - that asshole again. Weakling and tyuftya. I could never be a man. I'm a wimp and tyuftya and often roar under the blanket. And I no words can say. I myself will not say a word. And the real heroes rigid taboo against Unfortunately themselves.
I was young, and my husband was building a business. In the 90 years. He came home and went to bed, his eyes closed. And I wanted him to talk to me. And he was saying. Barely alive from exhaustion.
Later, in his unmarried life, I wanted the man she loved something else. To love. To marry. To roses. Do not hurt me. Do not move. Or not. Come on - and do me good. That they do feel? The farther into the forest, the less I understand this. And when I have enough imagination to imagine that they need sometimes to be simply accepted and understood, and silent, and brought tea, and all that - not today, not tomorrow, but long, long time until everything get better - then it seems to me, I understand everything. Then disappears floor, and remain just two adults who can do for each other is something good. Supportive. Friendly. Loving.
I first time I think about it seriously. I think they are becoming more lonely and abandoned on the background of all these courses for bitch and female independence. And they can not tell anyone about it its rising alone. And from this place zhalelnogo, this concern I have more did not get something from men want. Although in terms of successful women I get a complete asshole. After all, I do not have fur, her husband, and even regular sms "good night." Therefore, do not take me an example, do not.
Sometimes I was horrified to think, how to be a man.
By and large, about him, about a man no one thinks. What is it to live? Seals and sea lions are thinking more.
All (we will not point fingers) are only thinking about the love-disliked. Does-does not. Come, do not come. Izmenit- not change. Woman dependent on men, like a prisoner, who twisted his hands and tied the elbow joint to someone else. To her man. He stirs a little, she shipit- "hurt me!" When he dies, she pulls - what are you froze? are you alive? You treat me?
I exaggerate it, as always. But large, look into the mirror. To really think about the man can a woman who either nothing from him is not waiting, or what he calls his mother.
More and more of my friends complain about the loneliness of men. Look lonely. Choose loneliness. Sometimes they need to, we simply stroked and did not ask questions. To my shame, I can pat, but in most cases not be kept from the issues. Because anxious for itself. Or whether it concerns me. Most women I know one way or another, by hook or by crook, pulled out of the men's attitude. At least some.
Meanwhile, a man is tired and closes his eyes. He does not want to see either his business or his woman, nor its global responsibility for all. If he has that something is impossible, he asshole. He lives with a sense of "I asshole," and he does not have the magic word "but." That we all easier. I was wrong on the job, but a good husband. I have no husband, no job, but his feet. And chest. Well, yes, I'm fat, but Katka even thicker. In men, this "but" for some reason does not work. Terms of honest, rigorous and simple. You have large eggs, but no career? Well, you asshole. You Bentley, but not the woman he loved? Well, you asshole. You have a lovely woman, but not a Bentley? Well, you asshole!
They are forever embedded in the competition - once and hierarchy - two. They're always trying to find out who is the puppy and who's on the court. And sometimes, coming home, they just want to lie face down and close your eyes. Alone. Because if you are not alone - that asshole again. Weakling and tyuftya. I could never be a man. I'm a wimp and tyuftya and often roar under the blanket. And I no words can say. I myself will not say a word. And the real heroes rigid taboo against Unfortunately themselves.
I was young, and my husband was building a business. In the 90 years. He came home and went to bed, his eyes closed. And I wanted him to talk to me. And he was saying. Barely alive from exhaustion.
Later, in his unmarried life, I wanted the man she loved something else. To love. To marry. To roses. Do not hurt me. Do not move. Or not. Come on - and do me good. That they do feel? The farther into the forest, the less I understand this. And when I have enough imagination to imagine that they need sometimes to be simply accepted and understood, and silent, and brought tea, and all that - not today, not tomorrow, but long, long time until everything get better - then it seems to me, I understand everything. Then disappears floor, and remain just two adults who can do for each other is something good. Supportive. Friendly. Loving.
I first time I think about it seriously. I think they are becoming more lonely and abandoned on the background of all these courses for bitch and female independence. And they can not tell anyone about it its rising alone. And from this place zhalelnogo, this concern I have more did not get something from men want. Although in terms of successful women I get a complete asshole. After all, I do not have fur, her husband, and even regular sms "good night." Therefore, do not take me an example, do not.