Another damn drink, another thought, and it hits me like a wrecking ball to the gut. Men are being told to soften up, feel more, get in touch with our “feminine side”—whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean. And women? They’re shoved into these fake, twisted versions of masculinity—acting strong, acting independent—but in the end, they’re losing the plot. And I’m sitting here, watching this disaster unfold, wondering, Why the hell should I take responsibility for this shit?
It’s a mess, and dating? Don’t even get me started. It’s a goddamn circus. Everyone pretending they know what they want, while the things I thought were real just crumble beneath me. All those values I held onto, the ones that made sense, are slipping through my fingers like sand. And here I am, supposed to carry the weight of a world that doesn’t even look like the one I grew up in. It’s exhausting as hell.
New divorces, single women these days—society telling me not to judge them, that they can sleep with whoever they want, dress however they want, talk to whoever they want? Fine, do what you want. But if all you’ve got to offer is your body, then I’m just one of many trying to get on the list of men who’ve had you. I’m not looking to be your third or fourth husband. One-night stands happen, sure, but after the third or fourth, a woman starts to feel used, and that’s when the value gets placed on it. It becomes about money—dates, time—and by the fourth date, she’s thinking, “Alright, I’ll give him the cookie.” the goal is get them before they up the price.
The value women used to have is gone. Those old rules? Out the window. And now, I’m the pig for standing in line, right? At 55, I’m looking around and seeing women with several sets of kids, all a reflection of the men she’s made feel special along the way.
Yeah, I want a partner. Someone to share this screwed-up life with. But what do I get at my age? A coworker, a roommate, a weekend buddy. Women today? They want the value they had before that first kid came along. They don’t want a partner who reflects their current reality. No, they want you to see past the kids, the divorces, the child support, the endless years of online dating, the box of condoms and sex toys used with past lovers. After all that, they just want you to reach into the nightstand, grab that half-empty k-jelly with sticky fingerprints, and make her feel new again.
Back in the day, a woman giving herself to a man was something special. It wasn’t just about sex—it was an offering, a gift, something she saved for the right person. She didn’t have a huge body count. No, she kept herself for the one who deserved it—the guy who would treat her right, protect her, and build something real with her. But that’s not the reality anymore. Women today? A lot of them come with a long list of sexual partners, and they wear it proudly, like it’s no big deal.
How am I supposed to believe that what’s between her legs is still special, or that her love is special, when she’s given it away to fifteen other guys before me? How the hell am I supposed to convince myself that this time, it’s different? And then I see the tattoos on her chest with the names of those other guys, and it hits different. They talk about it like it’s no big deal, like I’m supposed to just sit there and take it—like I should be okay with the fact that she’s been with other men.
It’s not about insecurity or jealousy. It’s about respect. If I’m supposed to treat you like a queen, then you can’t throw those reminders in my face every time we’re together. You’ve got a history, and I get that, but why should I jump into a relationship knowing that history? I can’t. I can’t get there when I’m constantly reminded of the others. That lack of respect, the feeling that I’m just another name to add to the list, it’s a deal-breaker for me. That’s why I’m still playing the game—pluck and run. It’s easier, safer, and way less complicated than getting tangled up in something that feels like I’m always competing with the ghosts of your past.
Author’s Note:
This piece is a raw exploration of the emotional struggle many face in today’s world of modern relationships. It jumps into the confusion, disillusionment, and frustration of trying to make sense of love in a culture where values seem to be slipping away. The story questions the impact of past experiences on present relationships, particularly in a world where history is often flaunted without regard for how it affects the future. It’s about the challenge of finding something real when everything around you feels superficial, transactional, and distorted. The frustrations expressed aren’t rooted in insecurity, but in a lack of respect, with a yearning for authenticity and a desire to reclaim what was once sacred.
