Men go out of their way, they do cartwheels and bend over backwards, in their haste and urgency to avoid women.
For the majority of their daily lives, except when they want us to fuck them or feed them or take care of them, men want literally nothing to do with us. They don’t want to hear us speak, they don’t want to listen to our thoughts and opinions, they don’t want to have to pretend to care about the things we care about and enjoy, they don’t want to spend time with us doing the things we like.
They think we’re stupid airheads, nagging shrews, boring blabbermouths. They don’t appreciate our contributions and they don’t think we have anything important to say or do. They condescend and talk over the smartest and most innovative women on the planet, they dismiss and degrade even the most beautiful women, they seek to humiliate and find fault in even the most devoted and obedient women.
There is no one who men hold more sneering contempt for than the women who love them. They’ll chew their arms off to get away, to go on hunting trips and fishing trips and trips to Vegas, have guys nights and football sundays and escape into their man caves and garages. They’ll invent needless chores and pointless errands to get out of the house. They’ll attempt to fix things that aren’t broken so they can take off to the hardware store and meditate in front of a lumber pile for an afternoon.
Men separate from their wives and the other women in their lives constantly. Desperately. And they do it while laughing at the women they leave behind who miss them. The unofficial mascot of male separatism is a wedding cake figure of a man being dragged to the altar.
Even if misandry were real (it’s not), female separatism could never in a million years be so cruel, so mocking, so vindictive. All we want is safety and peace.
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