Dude . . . Got A Minute?

Dude.

Can I call you dude?  Do we have a 'dude relationship'?  You know, that kind of dude-at-the-next-urinal relationship where I can tell you something, one dude to another, without the bullshit?   Will you trust me -- just for the next couple of paragraphs -- to give you the straight shit?  I don't know you, you don't know me, we're just a couple of dudes, both doing our thing, and I have no vested interest in your relationship.

I'm just a dude.  Like you.  So, if you have a few minutes, let me lay some cosmic wisdom on you.  But let me distract you with an image of a tastefully sexy girl doing something refreshingly domestic to maintain your attention, first.

Did that help you focus?  I thought it might.  After all, we're both dudes.

If you are reading this, it is because your wife, girlfriend, best friend, brother-in-law, sister, or someone else close to you, who both cares for you and who has a good working knowledge of your relationship (and who may have used a dummy e-mail address), thinks that it would benefit you to read this particular blog post on this particular blog.  Why?  It could be any number of reasons, but let's assume that a good friend who doesn't want to be gauche enough to say it to your face thinks you and your relationship would benefit from the following piece of advice:

You're doing it wrong.

That is, the relationship/marriage you are in, which at casual inspection seems "perfectly fine", is suffering, and someone you know can see that.  That may come as a shock to you, or it may not.  Why is it suffering?  More than likely,the root of the problem is the fact that you aren't being All That You Can Be in the whole manhood department.

Whoa!  Don't freak out -- this is (probably) not a prelude to divorce or a relationship ultimatum.  This is a gentle reminder, a casual hint, a wink-wink-nudge-nudge dude, you need to pay attention to this! sort of thing.  The relationship that you think is so stable and mutually beneficial and strong?  Someone thinks that it could be better.  Someone thinks that you would benefit from learning something important about your relationship that, perhaps, you just weren't aware of.

You're doing it wrong -- but it's really not your fault.  I mean, how could it be?  People have been telling you how you're supposed to be doing it for years -- but they were wrong, and so now you're doing it wrong.

You see, when you got into your relationship with your current woman, she was HOT for you.  I mean, when she thought about you, her stomach flip-flopped, her eyes got all dreamy, her ladyparts got all dewy, and there was nothing -- nothing --that she thought about more than you.

But . . . well, it's been awhile, and while you're still a perfectly good dude -- don't get me wrong, in places you probably border on greatness -- there's this one area where you're just not quite getting the job done.

It's actually not one certain thing -- it's a bunch of related things, but they all come down to you needing to step-up, "man up", grow a pair, and quit acting like such a pussy when it comes to your woman.

Seriously -- it pains me to say it, but that's the fact, Jack.  You wouldn't be reading this otherwise.  When your woman does something, wants something, says something . . . you fold like a cheap card table and do your damnedest to make it happen, no matter how difficult or unreasonable.  You're whipped.  Maybe not even in an obvious way, but it's there.  Everyone knows who's in charge of your household, your relationship.  Even your woman -- and it's killing her.

No, really.  Every time she gives you an unreasonable ultimatum and you don't call her on it, her love for you dies a little.  Every time you kiss her ass so that she'll like you, despite what she says, the opposite is true.  Believe it or not, she likes it when you show some backbone.  In fact, that makes her panties wet -- and when was THAT ever a bad thing?

The truth is, YOU used to make her panties wet, just by being you.  And that was great -- really.  The infatuation, the courtship, the maelstrom of feelings that compelled you to go after this particular girl, she felt it too.  It wasn't fake.  It wasn't your imagination.  You had a real connection, some chemistry.  You were a manly man, and she found great value in that.

Only now . . . not so much.  

Oh, sure, she still likes you.  She even loves you.  But is she breathlessly checking her phone every five minutes to see if you've texted?  Is she still making mistakes at work because she's thinking about you?  Of course not.  You're past that point now, aren't you?  You're in the comfortable part of the relationship, when you can both just "be", without pretense or illusion or obfuscation.  She can "get to know the real you" and appreciate and love you just for being you.  And she is.  Only . . .

. . . well, you know that infatuation stage?  It's amazing, isn't it?  You've probably been coasting along on the strength of that for years -- if you're married, certainly since your wedding day, haven't you?  And that's cool -- you aren't a kid anymore.

But now you have to keep in mind that the woman who made you giddy with desire the moment someone mentioned her name is also remembering those times fondly, and she's wondering where the fuck they went?   I mean, things have been fine, sure . . . but things have been "fine".  Maybe even a little friction, a fight, a "discussion", something . . . but the fact is, "fine" isn't what she signed up for.  She signed up for "amazing", and she's dealing with "fine", but the first time she see's "amazing", you have to wonder . . . is she going to be happy enough with "fine" to not even consider pursuing "amazing"?  How about the second time?  The third?

Dude, not trying to scare you here, just trying to give you a clue.  Your woman, whether she knows it or not, whether she's the one who sent you here or not, your woman wants you to step up and take charge.  She wants you to lead her.  She wants to be in awe of your masculinity.  She wants to gush to her girlfriends -- not about the manly way you take out the trash or pick up her dry-cleaning, but how you dazzle her on a daily basis with your wit and charm.  She wants to feel the chemistry that attracted her to you in the first place.  But she can't say that.  It sucks, but the fact is, if she has to ask you to take charge, then you aren't really "taking charge".

She can't give you permission to take the lead.  You have to just take it, on your own initiative, or it doesn't count.  Forget for a moment whether or not she's going to get pissed off, because if you do it right, she just might be a little pissed off at first -- and that's not a bad thing.  You have to understand that, that's essential: you may have to piss her off a little to keep her engaged in the relationship.  Why?  Because, to paraphrase Feris Bueller, "you just can't respect a man who kisses your ass all the time".

And you're getting dangerously close, Dude, or you wouldn't be reading this.

Let's pause for a moment, look at another sexy, tastefully erotic picture of a pretty girl, and marshal our resources before we move on.

See how well that calms your mind and improves your focus?  Now back to the message.

It's not a lost cause -- there's still some time to turn things around before someone does or says something stupid and things get fucked up.  Nobody wants that.  All you need it step up your game a bit, take command, and start remembering who the fuck you were before you started being blinded by her puss--- ah, her femininity.

That's key: finding the masculine Dude in your soul.  The Dude who once looked across the room, sized her up, and said, "yeah, that's worth hitting", and you went for it.  That's the dude she wants to see.  The dude who struts, who thinks he's hot shit.  The dude you were before you met her.

So show a little backbone in the future.  If you aren't having sex with her at least once every five days or so (that's six times a month, for you liberal arts majors) then she's probably not really intrigued with you the way that's ideal.  If you aren't kissing her at least once or twice a day -- not a bullshit peck on the cheek, but a sudden, come-from-behind, press her against the wall, and plant a good ten-second smooch with tongue and dry humping and hard nipples, then you're doing it wrong.   If you aren't the dude all of her girlfriends want to sleep with in a moment of drunken weakness, then you're doing it wrong.  If you walk across the room naked, fresh from the shower and Mr. Happy bouncing around in front of her and she doesn't at least look up and bite her lip . . . you're doing it wrong.

Look, I know it's not all you.  You got complacent, she got complacent.  You both relaxed into a mutual comfort zone while you enjoyed the emerging fruits of your relationship, and . . . stuff just sort of slipped away.  On your side, you probably aren't getting laid as much as you like, and when you do get laid it's nothing to blog anonymously about.  Hell, you might be whacking off more now than when you met her.  She's just not responding to you the way she used to, but you've just . . . accepted that.

And that sucks.  Because both of you want essentially the same thing, you just don't know how to go about it.  You've been told for your entire life about how you need to respect women, listen to women, treat women as equals.  And that's great, as far as it goes, but when it comes to your relationship, believe it or not, your woman doesn't want you to treat her as an equal when it comes to certain aspects of your relationship.  She wants you to be strong, firm, and decisive.  She wants you to know what you want, and go after it -- even if she doesn't approve.  She wants you to be the dude every chick in the room wants to bang, but the one she's lucky enough to be going home with.

That's a tall order, I know.  I mean, how do you go from "I respect you too much to do that" to "Hell, yeah, I want a blowjob baby!" without sounding like a complete idiot?  The fact is, it isn't easy -- at first.  But either is realizing that your woman's panties don't get wet because of your decent job and neatly-trimmed yard, your willingness to watch chick flicks or buy tampons for her.  All the things you've been doing for her so she'll like you enough to fuck you, those are BETA skills, and while they're important for a long term relationship . . . well, Betas don't get much play.  Nice guys don't get wildly fucked by passionate women.

This looks like another good spot for a Pretty Girl break.  Just bear with me . . . we're almost done.

Now that's how they did it in Grandad's day!

And that's something to consider, as well: your grandfather likely had an entirely different take on how to manage his relationship than you do -- and while the rules of the game have changed dramatically since then, the players -- men and women -- still desire the same basic things.  Your grandad knew how to handle himself around women back then, and it wasn't by kissing their asses.  You don't have to completely dick out -- don't get me wrong.  But here are a few things that your granddad probably would tell you that you need to change, and right now:

Don't apologize unless you are genuinely at fault, or there is a dead animal involved.  Seriously, if she has a bad day at work, don't say "I'm sorry you had a bad day".  Say "that really sucks, baby.  Why don't you tell me the high points, and then we can take steps to help you forget about it?"

When she makes an inherently unreasonable request -- say, calling you from across the house to hand her a pair of scissors that's less than four feet away -- then refuse to do it on general principal.  I mean, if you don't value your time enough to get upset when she pulls some unreasonably flaky shit like that, then what's stopping her from doing that all the time. . . and loving you a little less for how willing you are to kiss her ass?   You have to respect yourself before she can respect you, and if you're kissing her ass all the time in the remote hope for pussy, then that demonstrates a lack of self-respect.

Sure, every woman wants a devoted man in her life, but they don't want to be in a relationship with a pussy.  Being devoted means that you bring her flowers unexpectedly, you check her oil without being asked, and you'd rather take her out on Saturday night than any other girl in town . . . not that you wait on her hand-and-foot and make her every desire manifest.

Seriously, Dude, even if you've invested heavily in the "equality" meme, then recognize that you two can't even be equals if you're deferring to her constantly.  Tell her NO when she makes an unreasonable suggestion.  No elaboration, no "I'm sorry, Honey, but . . . ", just tell her "no, that doesn't work for me."  Put yourself back into the equation of your own relationship.  She's not going to give you permission to disagree with her -- that defeats the purpose.

Here's something you need to try out: be decisive.  You know what kills your chances of nookie probably more than anything else?  The words, "I don't know, Honey, whatever you want to do is fine."  That's it.  Sure, you're trying to be deferent  and considerate, putting her needs, wants and desires before yours, out of your deep and abiding respect for the dignity of her womanhood blah, blah, blah, but the simple fact of the matter is that she wants you to take a fucking stand and tell her where you want to go -- no equivocation, no second-guessing, no picking what you think she wants.  Just.  Pick. A. Fucking. Restaurant.  Seriously.

And don't just hesitantly pick it -- when she asks you "so where do you want to eat tonight?" you tell her "I want Golden Corral tonight.  I'll meet you there at 7:30.  Order me a Coke if you get there first."  Done and done.  Don't worry about picking the "wrong" choice -- be a man and take the risk.  In fact, when it comes to your relationship it's far, far more important to be certain than it is to be right.  Really.  Trust me on this.  Take a stand and stick by it.

What if she doesn't like it?  Tell her, "well, can you make a compelling argument for that decision?" and then shut up and let her talk.  Give her an opportunity to persuade you, instead of direct you.  Put the issue in doubt, and if she feels strongly enough about it, she'll speak up.  She's not your mother, and she hates feeling like your mother.  She really wants you to be the Man, in that rugged, traditional, rugged and determined sort of way, despite what you may have heard her say to the contrary.  She wants you to be a Rock Solid Authority -- but open to her suggestions.  Hell, if you really do have no opinion on the matter, pick something at random and defend it dickishly until she does persuade you.  Make her work for it a little.  Don't over-do it, but nothing says "dry panties" like "I dunno, whatever you want is fine, I guess."

And that brings us to the subject of the sex . . . yes, you like that part!  I bet that got your attention!  Sex was like, one of the best things about your woman, back when you met her, remember?  You LOVED the sex.  So does she, at least theoretically.  But can you honestly say that your sex life now is as hot as it was when you first met?

How about another girly pic while you're considering that question:

I mean, just between us dudes . . . when was the last time you really rang her bell?  Is there a certain complacency, a certain habitual nature of how you two knock boots?  Ten minutes of foreplay, three positions, twelve and a half minutes, she cums twice, you do your thing, God that was great, snore . . .

Sound familiar?  Sound depressing?

Or does it actually sound a lot better than things actually are?

Let me tell you about something my father told me about: the Penny Jar.

When a young man marries a woman, for the first year of their marriage he should quietly put a penny in a jar on his dresser for every time he and his new bride make love.  Then, after their first anniversary, he should start taking a penny out of the jar every time they have sex.

If you  have a typical Blue Pill marriage . . . the jar never gets emptied.

("Blue Pill"?  That's a Manosphere expression that means "the idealistic and mistaken way you think things work; illusion", like in the Matrix (the good one).  "Red Pill" means "the pragmatic way things actually work."  We use this term usually in connection with relationships and over-all male-female gender relations.   And if someone sent you a link to this blog post, then someone thinks you have a typical Blue Pill marriage.  Your Penny Jar, in other words, will never get emptied.)

Why?  It's pretty simple, actually -- all that bold shit you did to attract your woman and persuade her to get humpity with her in the first place?  That went away once you and she started being "serious".  It's not entirely her fault -- the fact is, you wanted to "make her happy" and so you started doing whatever you thought she wanted you do so she would still hump you silly.  Only . . . well, all that nice stuff you did to make her feel comfortable and happy also made her . . . well, kinda bored.

God, she'd never say anything -- maybe send her dude a link via anonymous email account, at the most -- but she'd never want to hurt his feelings by telling him that he's not, y'know, the Man.  That would be awful -- even she knows that!  And maybe she's dropped a few hints you haven't picked up on, but the end result is the same . . . Dude, you really need to step it up.

And that goes for the bedroom, too.  Quit being so . . . gentle.  I mean, she's already decided to screw you -- you don't have to worry about her scampering off (unless you try to surprise her with something . . . y'know, too kinky without prior notice).  So if she's there, she's ready, she's naked, as soon as you think it's right you get on top of her and you go CONAN on her ass.  Do her like it's the night before your four-year prison sentence begins.  Do her like they're revoking your cock for thirty days.  Do her like you fucking mean it . . . because if you don't, then she thinks you don't.  And that's never a good thing.

Another babe, while you think about that:

Sweet, huh?  But not very "respectful".  But then, the idea that women value respect over admiration and desire is a relatively new phenomenon, and despite some claims to the contrary, there are plenty of women who want less respect and more passionate desire in their lives.  Even if that means accepting the fact that you are the Man, and forgetting all about equality for a while.

Consider, Dude: what's the most popular book on Amazon.com?  It's not "How to gently make love to your lady wife", it's 50 Shades of Grey -- and if you haven't been paying attention, this little trilogy of mommy porn books isn't filled with tender moments and hand-holding . . . it's filled with raw, poorly-written, highly unlikely emotionally charged Bondage & Discipline and Sado-masochistic sex between a dark and handsome billionaire (of course) and his sweetly submissive -- I mean, pathologically submissive -- beautiful college student chew toy.  The "tender moments" usually involve neckties and spanking.  There is a lot of really raunchy, poorly-written sex.  Believe me, I write erotica, and the sales of this book are not based on its literary merit.

But this thing is selling like batteries at a convent -- so the idea that your woman wants gentle, mutually-pleasurable, overly-consensual sex all the time is crap.  If current marketing trends are any indication (and when are they not?) then there is a deep, often-hidden vein of submission within the soul of the American woman that is screaming to get out.  There is a part of her that wants to feel owned, possessed, commanded -- and if you aren't the commander, someone else eventually will be.  Pay attention to what she does, not what she says, and you'll start tuning into just how much she wants you to -- occasionally -- just throw her on the bed and rip her clothes off.  Heck, get some neckties from Goodwill and go all-out.  The point is, she's fucking bored with the way you're doing it, and if she doesn't get interested soon, there's no telling

Of course there's a lot more to it than that.  If light bondage and a few extra grunts were enough to fix the problem, then it would be easy.  But it's not.  What you need to do is TAKE CONTROL of your life, and your relationship, before you find it out of control.  You can't do that with a few casual tricks.  It takes dedication, willpower, courage and devotion to the idea that you -- yes, you, Dude! -- are a masculine prize worthy of contention, a champion striding the earth, the Captain of your own destiny . . . and she is with you because of that, not because of how sharp the lawn looks this week.

Time for another picture.  Focus:

So wake up, Dude.  Someone is trying to tell you something.  You're doing it wrong, and now is the time to correct your course, before you steer into the iceberg.  You need to seriously look at your relationship and decide whether or not you are an "equal partner" in all things, or if you are the Man who takes charge, gets things done, and appeals to his woman on the basis of his masculinity, not his income potential.  Don't be the dude who finds himself listening to his wife tell him "You know, this just isn't working out.  I'm just not happy" a few years down the road.

Oh, sure, that would never happen to you and your devoted woman . . . but I could list a hundred guys off the top of my head who thought the same thing, and ended up single because of it.

There are resources out there to help you -- a collection of blogs and discussion groups known as the Manosphere, filled with your fellow dudes trying to work this shit out just like you are.  There are tons of places where you can learn how to manage your woman and your relationship in a way that will benefit you both in the long run.  You can learn how to handle her emotional outbursts, interpret what she's saying, and learn how to appeal to her sexually without resorting to expensive gifts or whining.  You should, of course, take much of what you find in the Manosphere with a grain of salt, because all of these dudes have slightly different issues than you do, so their solutions might work for them but not for you.  But on the other hand, there are lots of dudes who have tons of insight on how the female mind works.  Really works, that is, not how they want us to think it works.  That's one of the points of the Manosphere, to help you learn how to deal with the woman in your life without considering the benefits of the monastic life.  We're here to help.

But even if you don't want to jump into the deep end of the Manosphere yet, you need to realize that someone thought you were doing it wrong, and needed a "word to the wise".  So consider it given.  You might not get another.  Believe it or not, this isn't a slam -- there are plenty of dudes in your boat.  And there's still hope, and room to fix it.  Just don't ignore it.

One last picture, to kind of clean up:

I'm glad we could have this little talk, Dude.  I hope you took it how it was intended. We need to watch each other's backs, after all . . . because it's not like our woman will do that for us.

Don't forget to flush.

signed,

Ian Ironwood,

A FELLOW DUDE

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Alpha Moves: 7 Ways To Buff Her Position In the Matrix Without Hitting The Lotto

"So what can I offer that elevates her status among her peers if it's not money or status?"

I got that question in the comments of my FSM:Intro post, and it underscores a very real issue facing men -- particularly husbands -- today: what can you do if your woman makes more than you do, and is likely to continue that trend into the future?




I'm in that same boat myself, and it's something I've struggled with.  You see, back in the 1990s when all my friends were making embarrassingly large stacks of cash doing relatively simple internet work, I eschewed all that incredible opportunity in pursuit of a life as a humble writer of fiction. Since publishers rarely check your credentials, and don't buy your stuff on the strength of your education, I was one of the few people I knew who went to college to get an education, not a job.  Hence my liberal arts degree and my subsequent tenure as a waiter.  After years and years of perfecting my craft and getting rejections (none of which mentioned my college career, BTW) I finally broke through into my current, well-paying day job.  For an advertising copywriter in my state, I'm at the top of my game.

That being said, Mrs. I makes almost twice as much as I do.  And she took a pay cut when she took her current position.

Mrs. Ironwood, by contrast, got all sciencey and ended up in a lucrative career in the pharmaceutical industry (which her immediate ancestors founded in this state).  She's really, really good at what she does, and is universally respected in her industry.  She's turned down more six-figure job offers THIS YEAR than most people get offered in their lives.  

Now, the only way I have a hope of catching up with her, much less surpassing her, is for me to have a popular series of books or sell the movie rights to something.  Otherwise, I make a decent living, but not exactly affluent.  She can only go up from where she is . . . and up means a LOT of money.

So our financial relationship was never going to even out, I knew.  And like a lot of men, that bothered me, even though she told me over and over that it shouldn't.  Somehow, her reassurances sounded like pity to my ears and that just pissed me off.  But short of knocking over a jewelry store, there was not much that I could do about it.  And yes, it did affect our relationship . . . for a while.  Especially once we started having babies.

And then I realized that the relationship dynamic of today's 2.0 marriage (although I maintain it's marriage 3.0, I'll bow to convention for the sake of convenience) can't be judged by Marriage 1.0 standards . . . or even the standards of last generation.  

Being a "provider" is always important to a man, of course.  And his ability to provide is one of the big things that attracts a woman to him.  But the terms of just what "providing" entails have changed as our economy has.  I do not hunt down and kill large amounts of protein for my family, like my paleolithic forebears did.  Nor do I toil from sun-up to sundown in the fields to bring in the harvest for my family, like my agricultural forebears did.  I don't even labor ten hours a day in a factory to bring home the metaphorical bacon.  I work in an office.  Behind a computer.   I THINK for a living.

By my reckoning, that's a dramatic improvement on hunter-gathering, farming, or industrial labor.  The ability to put food on the table by the power of your brain alone (well, I do use a computer) is amazing.  But that still doesn't answer the "what do I do when she makes more?" question.  And that's because that's the wrong question to be asking.

You see, being a "good provider" is a huge attracting factor to some women . . . but it doesn't really do much for dudes.  We don't care what our women make, for the most part, unless they are using that financial power as a weapon in the relationship.  When that happens -- and it does -- then you have some serious issues.  If it does become an issue in the relationship, then the simplest way to counter it is to insist that you both contribute an equal amount to the household expenses, with any excess deposited into savings.  But that's assuming your combined income is enough to make your bills.  If it's taking every bit of what both of you make to make it, then who's making more won't be nearly as much of an issue.

But if you don't have money or fame or power to offer your woman, as you ask, just what can you offer her?

Your Masculinity.

That sounds like a trite answer, but it's the truthful one -- and actually a fairly useful one, if you understand it properly.

If you know you're never going to be rich and famous, then what you have to offer your woman is you -- your strength, your stability, your manliness.  You cannot draw your strength from your wealth or ability to provide, so you must find ways to demonstrate your masculinity as an asset in other ways she will recognize and appreciate, and which will advance her in the matrix.  It's not uncommon for women to make more than their husbands anymore, so it isn't as if the consensus of male opinion is that makes you a pussy -- as long as you are making a decent enough wage to support yourself (and, theoretically, her), then you've hit the minimum acceptable standards in the Male Social Matrix.  Being supported by your wife (unless you are the active housekeeper/childcare provider/house husband or recently unemployed) without a decent job DOES make you a pussy, unless you are actively looking or have other means of income.  No man respects another dude who lives off his woman.

So forget, for the moment, the issue of income (and fame -- which is a double-edged sword) and focus on what you do have to offer her.  For Blue Pill dudes, that's obsequious deference that leads to a low-sex marriage.  For Red Pill dudes, it's conscious displays of masculine power designed to reduce the importance of your salary in her mind compared to your value as a masculine asset.  Simply put, if you're The Man at home, then she won't care how much money you make.

How do you justify that to her Matrix, and therefore reflect positively in her eyes?  Here's one way I do it, but there are plenty of others.  The key is to remove income and such from the equation entirely from your mind (which is difficult) and focus on the other aspects of marriage where your masculine strengths can be considered assets.

In short, just because she makes a lot of money and bosses a bunch of people at work does not entitle her to be Captain at home -- indeed, I've noticed that the higher level of responsibility in the professional world, the greater the desire in women to have someone else make decisions at home.  

So step up and be the Captain.  Drive the boat while she fishes.  That's going to be huge, right there. 

The fact is, you both have jobs, and while they bring in different amounts they're still just jobs -- they don't define you.  What your job is and what her job is shouldn't matter to your relationship dynamic nearly as much as who takes a dominant stance.  And that had better be you, or you're in trouble.  But most couples in this situation tend to proclaim their "equality" when in actual practice the female is dominant in terms of decision-making.  She has the money, she has the vagina, she calls the shots and he just has to take it until she starts to despise hi s weakness and look for another dude.

If you're a Red Pill man, the proper response to your woman's job is merely, "glad she has work", and move on.  Because her success or failure at her job is immaterial to how things run at home.  You both work, there is income, there are bills to be paid, and that's that.  Everything left beyond that, the discretionary spending, can be worked out through channels.  Take the lead, start paying all the bills (unless she has an accountancy background or gets aroused by that sort of thing) and start holding her to account about her spending.

Because that's the thing: once upon a time, when women really did make a bare fraction of what men did, the feminist hue-and-cry was that family resources were communal resources, and that women who worked for wages that contributed to the household should have a say in how those wages are spent.  That was great advice . . . in 1965.  

But now that women are making more money, we're seeing a lot more conservative attitude among professional women about "communal resources".  It seems that when the man makes more money, then communal resources need to be spent with both parties equally consulted about the expenses, according to feminism.  If the woman makes more money, then after communal expenses are paid the argument goes that women should control the resources they brought into the relationship.  In other words, it's a Hamster wheel thing.

By taking the issue off the table entirely, and being willing to stand firm on it, you remove it as a potential bit of leverage from her hand.  But you have to be willing to stand firm on it.  

Mrs. Ironwood and I would occasionally have fights about money and who spent it, a few years back when we were still struggling.  Even then she was making more money than I, and I was doing the majority of the housekeeping and childcare.  But I'd lost my job, and after a few months the whispers amongst her Matrix started up.  That's always a bad sign.  Especially when her mother got involved.

No member of a woman's FSM is more influential than her mother.  And while I love my mother-in-law to death, and consider her a gift from the goddess and an example for mothers-in-law everywhere . . . well, she's still my mother-in-law.  When the Ironwoods hit some rough times, she (and her third husband) tried to intervene with some "helpful" advice that was more like a get-your-shit-together ultimatum.  Now, at the time Mrs. I was making all the money, save the few hundred in unemployment I was getting, and my mother-in-law did have a valid point.  But the way in which she expressed it raised my hackles and caused me to Put My Foot Down.

Essentially, after running it through the FSM Secret Decoder Ring, her argument went: "I had every confidence in you as a potential mate for my daughter when you first got married, because you seemed like an intelligent young man with a bright future ahead of you, but I did not anticipate these difficulties and am now second-guessing your suitability for my daughter because you have a mortgage, a child, and she's supporting you while you 'write' and it looks to me like you're just being a lazy slob.  I no longer have confidence in your ability, and I am exercising my right to inject myself into your relationship to guide you to a more sensible and more secure existence, and one I won't be ashamed to tell my friends about.  Now, are you going to knuckle under and take this low-paying, menial retail sales job I arranged for you, where you can apply for management training in just twelve months, get basic insurance and be making up to $30k in just two years, or--"

That's when I stopped her -- for two reasons.  First, because she kinda ambushed me with this ultimatum/just trying to help job offer, and she did it in front of my wife and her third husband.  It was a little rude, and this was from a woman whom I had only seen being rude when the FSM called for such a response, so I was more than a little taken aback.  And towards the end of her speech, her tone got a bit rude, too.  I don't do rude, not from family members.  We can have a polite discussion about anything, but if you start forgetting social conventions, I end the conversation by walking away or a threat of violence, depending on the source.

But secondly, I had this to say: "Thank you for your interest, but I assure you that Mrs. Ironwood and I have -- together -- this situation in hand, and we will -- together -- deal with it to our mutual satisfaction.  While I appreciate your concern for your daughter and grandson's welfare, I assure you that their needs are being met within the confines of our household, without additional assistance, and should assistance be necessary we are fully capable of applying or asking for it.   More, while it's true that your daughter is currently bringing in the majority of the income, that does not give you the right to intervene in our affairs despite your concerns about her -- my marriage was to her, not to you, and I actively resent your attempt to usurp my husbandly authority, or even counsel your daughter in a way that would encourage a separation or divorce.  Our marriage is not dependent on anything but our willingness to make this work, and if that means we live in a tent on the side of the road, then that's where we'll live and you can visit at Christmas.  But I am in charge of this operation, and while I welcome your advice when solicited, I reject your interference when it is not."  Then I looked over to my wife, asked her, "Don't you agree?" she nodded, a little frightened at the confrontation, and we left shortly thereafter.

Mrs. Ironwood didn't disagree with what I said, but it was the first time the cordial relationship between myself and her mother had frayed at all, and she was far more concerned about maintaining the integrity of the filial relationship than she was about the money.  She -- and I -- knew that this was a temporary condition, and she respected my insistence in looking for the right job, not just the first job my mother-in-law arranged for me to get completely outside of my field.  Things were tense between us for a while, but in the end my mother-in-law respected my stand and backed down.  My wife was both scared and proud of me.  I found a new gig a few weeks later and things got back on track.  But after that, there was never any doubt in my mother-in-law's mind about who was leading our relationship, despite the difference in our paychecks.

Because this goes back to a fundamental rule that Mrs. Ironwood and I have in our marriage: we don't fuck with each other's career choices.  As long as there is stable, predictable income, her career is hers to manage and mine is mine.  Oh, I'll offer advice freely (I used to be a career coach, among other things) but I won't tell her what to do, or which job to take, or which educational advantage she should use, and she extends me the same courtesy.  We trust each other enough to make the right career choices -- with consultation, of course, if it involves changing jobs or anything else that impacts the Mission.  

And she came up with the rule: as long as there is predictable, stable income, I could be a garbage collector, and she wouldn't complain.  Indeed, that was the point she made when she gave me a talk the week before my unemployment ran out a few years after my dust-up with my mother-in-law: "I don't care where you work, we just need predictable, stable income", to which I replied two days later, "Guess what, Honey!  I got predictable, stable income writing . . . in porn!" and she just had to accept it.  Because we don't fuck with each other's career choices.

That's saved us a lot of grief over the years that other couples, who feel empowered to direct their spouse's career, have had to endure.  We have each pursued a profession, and each of us is skilled in plenty of side-jobs that could be converted to employment in a pinch.  We're highly capable people, and we trust each other not to be idiots . . . something which has only come back and bitten Mrs. Ironwood on the ass a few times in twenty years.  She has never urged me to take a job purely for the money or the potential for advancement, and she has always emphasized my happiness in my job . . . as long as the bills get paid.

She's an exception.  Most women try to frame their husband by his career or wealth, which adds to their position in the Matrix.  And if you want to improve her position but you're dedicated to running an important non-profit, nearly non-paying organization, it's hard to brag about that to your girlfriends unless you recently won a Nobel Prize for your efforts.

That doesn't mean you're attempt to elevate her are doomed however.  A man who is sufficiently self-aware and motivated (particularly if he has learned Game) can distinguish himself to the Matrix, and raise his wife's position,  in other ways.  And ways that don't emasculate you automatically.

One way is to distinguish yourself is gaining some award or achievement in a hobby, sport or charity.  Mike might only be a truck driver, but if he's a truck driver and the State Champion Bass fisherman for six years running, then he's bragworthy for his accomplishments within the Matrix despite their unfeminine nature -- indeed, because the achievement is within a highly masculine realm, it gives her better position because his accomplishment pushes him forward in the masculine-oriented Male Social Matrix.  And increasing your status among men makes you a higher-status husband within the FSM.  The women of the Matrix appreciate a manly man who does manly things, so such efforts will be met with approval.  Winning an award for your work in a non-profit field will add some status, too, although probably not as much (unless her Matrix is tightly connected with your work).

A second way is by dominating your community with your masculine 
presence -- that is, evoking Charisma around you so thickly it chokes the asthmatic.  Being the man who everyone's head turns to see enter a room gives her mad Matrix points.  Turn on the Charm, turn up the Presence, and go out and be ridiculously social -- not just with her peers, but with their spouses.  Since many mixed functions invariably polarize into male- and female-zones, recognize that sticking to her elbow all night is not going to raise her status necessarily -- go chat with the boys in the corner, tell a few jokes, get them laughing, try to be seen being a high-status male within the Male Social Matrix for a while, and that will help significantly.  This only works if you've been working the Charisma angle, and it should be much easier for natural extroverts.  

But in general, being seen getting along well in the company of other men adds to your instant value in the FSM.  Flirting lightly with the womenfolk can work too, but that also could be dangerous if you aren't yourself aware of the social situation.  But a little public DHV and Preselection never hurts your case.

A third way is to become an absolutely stunningly perfect male specimen.  Like, double up on the P90X or the Insanity for six months until your biceps are showing off their biceps to complete strangers.  A dude can get away with an awful lot when he has washboard abs and an ass you can bounce a quarter off of.  You could be a part-time aerobics instructor who doesn't make in a week what your wife makes in an hour . . . but if you have the body and are rocking her world with breathless regularity, your income won't matter to her Matrix one bit. 

A fourth way: Game her immediate Matrix.  That's essentially what I did, to help her out in the early part of the relationship.  If the new dude your daughter brings home is sullen and laconic, and mostly sticks to himself when he isn't texting in the corner, then he isn't going to do much for her position beyond "Well, at least she found someone...".  The same new dude who jumps up to help her sister clear the table, offers to do the dishes, and flirts shamelessly but good-naturedly with her aunts, and who insists on taking her mother's garbage out and who  volunteers to take her best friend's dog to the vet . . . THAT dude earns the woman some points.  His cheerful willingness to participate is going to up his value to her local Matrix, even if his income and fame aren't impressive.  

Remember, the Matrix values participation, and any woman who can persuade a man to participate on her behalf in an endeavor important to her Matrix will rise in position.  If her best friends and family think she's lucky to have caught you, you've won half the battle.  Just don't take it too far, and know and respect your own boundaries, or you'll be Betacized and running petty errands for her second cousin before you know it.  The key is to refrain from such minutia until it Really Matters, then chivalrously step in and kick ass.

A fifth way: Be dangerous.  Yep, you read that right.

This element of masculinity is often neglected by the Manosphere because of the controversial nature of the advice.  After all, it's scary to imagine a bunch of men going out of their way to be Dangerous in a society where being violent is so easy to do on a big scale.  But I'm not talking about building pipe bombs in the basement; I'm speaking of becoming personally dangerous.

Take up martial arts and practice religiously until you have developed some accomplishment.  If you are less physically natured, consider getting taking your state's Concealed Carry class and buying firearms.  Take up boxing.  Fencing.  Greco-Roman wrestling.  Ultimate FIghting Championship.  Fight Club.  Be Dangerous.

Why?  Three reasons: 1) being dangerous changes your personal attitude.  Walking into a party full of strangers worried about whether or not you'll make a good impression is Beta; walking into a party full of strangers and realizing you could kick three-quarters of the asses in the room, Alpha . . . and it will show in your stance, your stride, and your presentation.  Dangerous men radiate confidence and charisma.  2) Being dangerous means that you can protect her . . . and despite their pretensions of independence, women, in aggregate, still want to feel protected.  Since security is a big issue for most women (and a huge factor in the Matrix) then having a burly man around who is willing and able to kick someone's ass is a HUGE plus, and one that gets reflected in her position in the Matrix.  And 3) Pumping out that "dangerous" vibe puts other men slightly on edge, but it attracts other women who are searching for security and excitement.  That Preselection vibe can be a potent force, not just in how you Game her, but in her position within the Matrix.  If the consensus agrees that Mike is a badass and don't you wonder what it would be to sleep with him, y'know, if Carol got hit by a bus? then Mike's dangerousness gives Carol bonus Matrix points.

The other side of this coin is the fact that there will also be a subconscious (or at least unvocalized) worry among her Matrix that because you are personally dangerous, that you therefore are automatically a danger to her.  While that is a concern, it will also actually add to the excitement women associate with you, and hence bump up her position slightly.  Sure, you'd never lay a hand on her . . . but the fact that you could if you wanted to sends shivers of excitement down the spines of the Matrix.

A sixth way: be Brilliant.  Or at least highly talented.  That's my go-to tactic.  While women are impressed by muscles and money and power, they are also impressed by genuine expressions of artistic or technical brilliance.  If you have a lick of talent in any direction -- performance, graphic arts, music, dance, statistics, sports, whatever, you figure out what that talent is and you develop it until you are proficient enough to show it off.  I coasted for years on my wife referring to me as "My husband, the New York Times Best Selling author", even when I hadn't published anything in years.  The fact that I actually had the talent to write a book that other people would by was impressive to the Matrix, and therefore she gained position from it.  Similarly, if you work the most boring desk-job in the world but you run a rockin' jazz trio on the weekends, that kind of talent and dedication is a DHV that's going to get you points with the Matrix.

And the better you do your thing, the more acclaim you gain, the more brilliant you appear to the Matrix.  Nor must you limit your displays of talent to the one thing you're most talented at.  I'm a good writer.  But I'm also a mediocre graphic artist with a mad creative streak.  So when I designed and painted a fake-stained-glass mural on the french doors leading from my bedroom to my back porch, it was a highly tangible sign of my creative impulse -- and got compliments from most of my wife's Matrix. Plus people outside have a lot harder time seeing into my bedroom.

Papa Ironwood, my father, was a good example of this.  He was definitely working class for most of his life, and for a while he had a second-shift industrial job when I was in Middle School.  That's when he decided to take up the guitar.

Papa Ironwood has the talent for music that Mrs. Ironwood does for cooking fine cuisine.  

For six years he'd get up and start the day with a half-hour of practice.  He'd play and sing.  And he was AWFUL.  He could barely keep a tune, his fingers didn't seem to want to go right, and his sense of rhythm was inexact.  But he stuck to it, amusing only himself and annoying only his children, for six months.  After six months, he knew how to play three or four songs reasonably well enough to perform in public -- much to my mother's surprise.  And after three years, he was a competent musician, picking up fingering techniques and improving his sound dramatically.  While far from the professional level, he had achieved a sufficient level of mastery of the guitar to be able to perform with professionals in a casual setting.  That was enough to give my mother's Matrix position a boost.

His voice, on the other hand, did not improve one bit from Day One.

My point is that anyone can learn an instrument, learn a language, learn how to paint, how to draw, how to sculpt, how to dance, how to compose, how to write.  With all human knowledge at your fingertips, picking up a skill or expanding a talent to a new level of mastery are ways to demonstrate your value.  Particularly if the end-result can be shown off for her benefit.  

A seventh way: Be seen by the Matrix being In Charge of your marriage.  That is, make it understood to her Matrix that while her career is important, you expect her ultimate loyalty and primary consideration is always to her family, that is, her husband and kids.  This sounds counter-intuitive, considering I just said that the Missus and I don't fuck with each other's careers.  But let me explain.

As mentioned exhaustively already, Mrs. Ironwood is a well-respected and powerful member of her profession, one who wields a great deal of authority in her professional life.  Over the course of her career she has had varying levels of responsibility as well, mostly leadership positions, board memberships, that sort of thing.  Among her duties has been organizing conferences and meetings and workshops for her profession, which has in turn led her to a lot of late nights collating and licking envelopes and such.  Mostly I'm pretty tolerant about it -- I support her career -- but about five years ago when she first started to get very active, she called me one night to ask if she could stay for another few hours and take care of yet-another project.

"No," I said, flatly.  That took her by surprise.  Back then (I was still a Blue Pill dude, for the most part) I always accommodated her career needs.  But it had been too long a stretch of her working late nights.  I put my foot down.

"What?"

"I said no," I continued, reasonably.  "You've been out late for every night the last two weeks.  And then you're exhausted on the weekends.  I know you're under the gun, but no, you can't stay out and play.  Wrap it up and get your ass home.  Your kids are starting to forget your face."  

She tried to persuade me, explain why, but I was firm.  Later, I found out that instead of bitching at her for her lack of participation, the dozen-or-so women there actually praised her for having a devoted husband who was concerned enough for her welfare to tell her to stop and come home.  In fact, by the time she left she had started a "I wish my husband/boyfriend..." conversation among the attached women and a "Where do I find a guy like that?" conversation among the singles.  She left in a hail of positive well-wishing and enjoyed a surprisingly large bump in her position within the Matrix.

Why?  Because my insistence on her stopping work was a DHV to the Matrix nodes who witnessed it. And having a devoted, caring, dedicated husband who was willing to stand up for her when she wasn't willing to stand up for herself validated her choice of mate so highly that it became the object of envy by those whose husbands didn't care and those who had no men in their lives.  By exercising my masculine authority over my wife and invoking her filial duty in a public forum, I was not perceived as that hateful man who was trying to sabotage her career, I was seen as the loving husband who had had enough of his wife's workoholism and insisted that she attend to her duties as wife and mother, regardless of the circumstances.  That's a three-pointer.

A common fallacy among career-oriented women is that they want weak-willed, permissive, subservient husbands who will sacrifice for their wife's career.  Feminist propaganda aside, within the Matrix that sort of Nigel is almost an albatross around the neck of a woman.  Even hardened career women are given a much higher boost by having a masculine, Alpha husband who is willing to over-rule her if he believes that her devotion to her family is suffering.

Now, there's a fine line here -- start being a dick, and her position drops and her career suffers, and then she's just pissed at you.  But judicious use of the masculine override can be potent, if it is witnessed by the Matrix.  It denotes a man who cares passionately about his woman, but who is not about to kiss her ass -- and that measure of respect for you is reflected in her position.  It's a delicate balance, but if you can manage to do it artfully enough, you can manage your wife in a way that actually adds to her position.  

So there you go -- seven good ways to improve her FSM position without making a lot of money or making the last round on America's Got Talent.  Use them wisely, and remember: your mileage may vary.

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It's Equilibrium, Not Equality, That Makes A Marriage Work

Q: It is well know that Mrs. Ironwood is smart, well educated, and well paid. So obviously she is not playing dumb or incompetent in an attempt to make her man feel important. It would be interesting to know what she does to "be the woman" and allow you to "be the man" (generalities, not details - lol). 

A: What an excellent question!

When I read this at Stately Ironwood Manor this morning over my usual coffee-and-cigarettes breakfast (most important meal of the day), I went ahead and read it aloud to Mrs. Ironwood, who has better sense about how to begin her day and was eating a ridiculously high-fiber cereal.

She considered.

“Mostly, I stay out of your way and let you do what you do.”

She elaborated – one of the things I love about her is her keen insight into masculine psychology.  Basically she told me that she recognizes that there are things that are inherently important to a man, and that when it comes to those issues (insofar as they do not negatively impact the over-all Mission), regardless of whether or not she thinks she knows a better way to do it, or a better approach, or whatever . . . she stays out of my way and lets me do those particular things my way.

It’s a struggle, sometimes, she continues.  But just as she feels sensitive to the fact that I’ve assumed many of the “traditional wifely responsibilities” like laundry, getting the kids ready for school, shopping and cooking, things that she feels judged about by her mother and the other women in her personal Matrix, she understands that I feel sensitive to the need to assert my masculinity in other ways.  Like working in porn and hanging pictures and spending my off-hours relentlessly trying to get into her pants.  

If expressing my masculinity involves her getting laid with the frequency of a truck stop hooker, then she's willing to take the hit for the team.  One of her girlfriends hasn't gotten laid in over a year.  Another has hit a rough patch in her relationship and has slowed to once a month.  Mrs. Ironwood implicitly understands just how dysfunctional that is for a relationship, so if accepting eager and willing cunnilingus a couple of times a week will help keep our marriage running smoothly, she'll gladly make the sacrifice.

She's such a trooper.

It was a fascinating discussion – we've covered some of this territory before, but it was interesting to see it like this.  We’re very aware of our mutual interdependence and how important it is to a well-functioning ship, but we rarely discuss it in those terms.  She makes more money.  I do more housecleaning.  Yet the social expectations of both issues put a lot of undue pressure on us from outside.  That alone is often enough to put strain on a couple.

However, one advantage that we have over many couples is the fact that we long-ago accepted the fact that while our relationship and our family was perfectly normal, it was also destined to be utterly unconventional.  Striving to fulfill outside expectations – in any direction – has the potential to detract from the efficiency of how well the ship runs, and could compromise the over-all Mission.  If outsiders see it as a challenge to my masculinity that I take my daughter to Girl Scouts and the only professional sport I follow avidly is Ice Dancing (long story), then I know thatit is their issue, not mine.  The Mission states that the important thing is the happiness and welfare of the children is the highest priority, and if that means I have to skip down Main Street in a blue satin evening dress in order to make it happen, then I can take the hit.  My masculinity is dependent upon successfully fulfilling the Mission requirements, not on living up to someone else’s expectations of how I do so.  And Mrs. Ironwood is the only person on the planet empowered to offer me unsolicited criticism about how I fulfill the Mission.  Understanding that difference has given me tremendous emotional freedom in how I run the household.

So we’re both willing to compromise about stuff . . . but we try like the dickens to make sure that we don’t have to.  Luckily, we both are on the same page so much of the time that our compromises usually seem minor and unimportant when they actually happen.  Chalk it up to good wife selection criteria and a long vetting period.

But one fundamental that we practice is always being willing to communicate, within the dictates of the Rules of Engagement.  And we have both accumulated enough of a store of trust in each other that when one of us does something the other sees as dicey, then we’re willing to extend the benefit of the doubt to each other, even if we’re pretty sure the other person is wrong.  I may know for a fact that what she’s doing is a mistake, but if I do not give her the freedom and autonomy to make and learn from mistakes (provided they don’t imperil the Mission) then I’m not leading properly.  

The same goes for me: if I’m indulging in a masculine fit of do-it-myself, say, fixing the porch or painting a fence, then Mrs. Ironwood has the brains to recognize that the important issue is not whether or not the fence gets painted, it’s that I am painting the fence as an expression of my masculine power to Order the household.  And because painting a fence is well within my capabilities.   She trusts me to do the job to the best of my ability, and then knows that the proper feminine response – regardless of the outcome – is to praise the effort, not the result.

Admittedly the praise is higher when I don’t fuck things up, but she never – NEVER – tells me “I told you so!” when things go wrong.  Indeed, even if I do fuck things up (it happens) she thanks me for my efforts and encourages me to think positively about it.  She doesn’t use my failed attempt as a crowbar to leverage in a subsequent relationship discussion.  

That’s a rare and special gift.  Some folks think that marriage means that both husband and wife can relax into a perpetual casual relationship in which the little things don’t matter because of the strength of your love, but any OMG will tell you the opposite is true.  Extending basic courtesy and politeness to your spouse is ABSOLUTELY ESSENTIAL to keeping the ship running properly.

Remember, Captain and First Officer are positions with a lot more ritual and protocol implicit in them than “wifey and hubby 2.0”.  Ignoring basic courtesy because you’ve happened to see your spouse busting a grumpy in the bathroom is foolish.  And ignoring her accomplishments and her efforts is twice as foolish.   Remember, the performance of the First Officer is in part contingent on (and is a reflection of) your abilities as a leader.  If that means calling out your spouse for praise more often than you probably would a casual acquaintance then remember that a) you likely did not exchange profound vows with a casual acquaintance and b) in most cases a casual acquaintance is unlikely to provide you with fellatio.

Mrs. Ironwood earns compliments from me every day – and note I said “earned” not “deserves”.  It doesn’t matter whether or not she deserves the compliment – the fact is, she is a superlative wife who earns the praise I give her, and I would be a stingy husband to withhold it.  And she reciprocates, often surprising me with “One of the reasons I love you is how you ….” at moments when I least suspect it.  This has the dual effect of increasing my attraction to her (we’re always more attracted to those who offer praise and respect toward us) and rewarding good behavior on my part.  The reward system works both ways, after all, and Mrs. Ironwood has learned how to work it to our mutual advantage.

Mrs. Ironwood also made this valuable point that I hadn’t considered:

“When you really are set on something and I think it’s a bad idea, and I’ve told you I think it’s a bad idea—”

“You let me do it anyway,” I finished, smugly.

“Well, not exactly,” she hedged, much to my surprise.  “Just as you have the masculine power of Ordering, I have the feminine power of Persuasion.  And in cases where I really think something is a bad idea, and you aren’t listening to my cogent and well-reasoned arguments, then I use my feminine wiles to distract you from the issue until you decide to do it my way.”

“Hey!  That’s not fair!” I protested.

“It’s perfectly fair,” she disagreed.  “Look, I respect your ability and willingness to be the leader of the household – I have too much leadership crap at work, the last thing I want is to be on the hook for the decisions that run the house.  And in most cases, yeah, I can let you do it your way, anyway, and I stay out of your way.

“But if you are dead-set on doing something utterly bone-headed, yet doesn’t imperil the Mission, then I feel well within my rights to distract you away from it and give you some perspective.”

“Distract me how?” I asked, a little alarmed.

“With sex,” she shrugged.  “And attention.  I get you focused on one of your other little tangents, or I ask you about work – back to sex again – or I take you to dinner, or I unload my work issues on you for advice, and you get so wrapped up in helping me out that you often forget about the thing you were going to fuck up in the first place.”

“And if I don’t?” I asked, warily.

“If sex doesn’t work to distract you,” she reasoned, “then that tells me that whatever it is Really Matters to you, and I can either let you go or get in your face about it.  But usually you’re open to being distracted.”

I frowned.  “Am I really that easy?”

She snorted.  “Why do you think I married you?”

There were plenty of potential responses to that, but I found myself going in an unexpected direction.  “So, does it bother you that our marriage isn’t based on the principal of equality?” I asked.

“Equality?” she asked, just as surprised.  “Look, it’s a marriage, not a suspension bridge.  We’re not two equally strong pillars both holding it up equally.  That’s a stupid metaphor.  Marriage is a fluid, plastic, constantly-changing thing, especially with kids involved.  Forget equality.  What we have is a teeter-totter.  A see-saw.  You’re at one end, I’m at the other.  The goal is equilibrium, not equality.  It’s not about what is fair to you, or fair to me.  It’s how we both can dance along the length of the lever in order to maintain equilibrium.”

“Explain,” I directed, intrigued.

“Look, if I’m having a shit-week – like this week, for instance,” she added.  “I’m so stressed out about work that I can’t even think about you and the kids, and that makes me feel like a bad wife and mother.

"But then I come home after bitching about it to you on the phone, and you have dinner cooked and laundry folded, it's like a Dido song.  That still makes me feel like a bad wife and mother, but I also feel so loved and supported that you adjusted your side of the see-saw to compensate for my shitty week, it makes me forget about what a shitty wife and mother I am and just drop to my knees in gratitude . . . like I have time for that.  And then next week, after I get my grades posted, I’ll re-adjust my position, spend a few evenings doing you like it’s prom night to show my appreciation and assuage my guilt, and we’ll be headed back into equilibrium.  You can’t do that trying to keep both people ‘equal’.  Someone’s always going to be up and someone’s always going to be down, but if both of us are trying for equilibrium in good faith, then we can appreciate the relationship better over time because we understand the process.”

“So to extend this metaphor,” I said, enthusiastically, “what happens if someone fails to adjust to compensate?”

“Then one of your asses is going to hit the ground with a decisive thud,” she replied, smoothly.  “That happens.  It’s happened to both of us, many times, in the last twenty years.  As long as the other person doesn’t get off the other side, you’re both cool.  But when you get off . . . well, it’s decisive thud time, only permanent.”

“So how have we avoided that, all these years?”

“You’re willing to dance on your end, I’m willing to dance on mind, and we’re both committed to the pursuit of equilibrium to affect the success of the Mission without being selfishly obsessed with equality.  It might not be as stable as ‘two pillars of equality’, but we sure have a hell of a lot more fun around the fulcrum than those couples stiffly holding up their relationship.  And then there’s the alternative . . .” she said, trailing off meaningfully.

“What alternative?”

“The thing that's really keeping me dancing on my end,” she confessed.  “Besides, y'know, true love and shit.  If one of us did step off, have you seen what’s available as replacement parts these days?  Jesus, I think I’d enter a convent before I’d start dating again.  No matter how bad you get – and you really don’t get bad,” she assured me, hurriedly, “don’t get me wrong, but no matter what a pain in my ass you are, you’re MY pain in the ass.  There’s a security in that that allows me a lot more emotional freedom than my friends.”  I was no good judge of that – that’s Matrix stuff – but I was willing to take her word for it.

“Seriously,” she continued, “half of my friends are obsessing about their lack of a boyfriend or husband, and the other half are bitching about their existing boyfriend or husband, and none of them are complaining that they aren’t being treated as an equal partner or they're getting laid too much.  I get asked all the time why I don’t bitch about you the way other women bitch about their husbands, and it really is because you don’t give me a reason to bitch.  In fact, I spent almost the entire conference talking about how great you are with the house, the kids, and me that I pissed off some people.”

I guess that’s a good thing.  “So you aren’t worried that I’m treating you like a slave, dominating the relationship, relegating you to second-class status, all that bullshit?”

She patted my knee warmly.  “Babe, my priorities are raising the kids well and keeping my family happy.  That includes you.  That’s where I find fulfillment.  Yes, I have a career -- everyone needs a J-O-B -- and I'm lucky enough to have married a man who was willing to put up with all of that school and abject povety so that you could let me make a career out of making the world a better place in a really crappy industry.  But you don’t let me make that my life.  You keep me grounded about what is truly important to me because you know me.  You get me.  And I so appreciate that about you.”  Awww!  More praise!  “So to answer your reader’s question, I’d say that I stay out of your way, let you be a man, and focus on my job as the woman in the relationship.  And I don’t let other people define for me what that is.  Not my mom.  Not my sister.  Not even you.”

Okay, I could accept that.  “And you persuade me with sex,” I added.  “When cogent and well-reasoned argument fails.”


“Right.  Do you feel threatened about that?  About me ‘using sex as a weapon’?” she asked, curious.

It was a fair question.  I mean, a lot of guys accuse women of that, and I’ve seen it employed thus over and over in other relationships.

“No,” I decided.  “Because you don’t use it as a weapon.  You use it as a tool of engagement.  When we have sex, it’s a non-verbal extension of our continuing intimate conversation.  Sometimes you use it to say ‘Honey, you’re wrong, you should see my point’.  I can handle that.  And sometimes you use it to say ‘Babe, you did a really good job – more of that, please!’ and I can handle that, too.”

“And sometimes I just want you to throw me down, rip off my clothes, and do me hard,” she reminded me.  “Just what do I have to do to persuade you to do that?”

The rest of the conversation would only be of interest to the voyeuristic and the aficionado, so I’ll leave it to your imagination.

But that’s her answer.  To misquote Star Trek, “The needs of the Family/Relationship outweigh the needs of the Spouse . . . but the Spouse’s needs are part of the needs of the family/relationship”.   We both have to dance along our side of the see-saw to keep the thing up in the air.  Every now and then we arrive at a point that’s not ‘equal’ . . . but it is equitable. We're striving for equilibrium with the understanding that we'll never quite reach it, and that's okay.

To this I will only add that Mrs. Ironwood does take care of her appearance, for work as much as for me, but she also doesn’t hesitate to doll up for date night and indulge in shameless PDAs in public. She is quite comfortable with her femininity – she knows she’s not winning any beauty contests, but that isn’t the point.  She dresses up to show respect for me, because a wife dresses up for her husband on date night.  She goes out of her way to ensure I get masculine down-time with my guy friends (I had to get her to stop calling them ‘play dates’ for the sake of my masculine dignity).

She treats me like her captain: with respect and honor and genuine loyalty.  She takes care of me, and acknowleges that that's part of her job description as much as fixing cars or cooking dinner is in mine.  She looks after my grooming and appearance, my skincare and whether or not my shoes are decent, and she tells me when I look hot enough to fuck.  And she doesn’t hesitate to show me off, use me as arm candy, and brag to her pals about just how lucky she is – whether I’m there or not.  

I understand part of that is just ‘marking her territory’, but, honestly, I find I don’t mind so much.

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