You’re good and love all women! Oh unless she broke up with you a year ago. Then she’s a bitch, a slut, and you can say what you want, you’re the victim here. Feel valid knowing that your desire to hurt her and lay her low is her own fault and you don’t ever need to watch your own behavior because she deserves pain, that fucking crazy whore. It’s okay you’re immature and cruel, she drew it out of you just by existing without belonging to you.

Let’s talk over women about your experience with feminism, let’s constantly derail conversations to somehow make feminism about men, let’s never accidentally oh-my-gosh heaven-forbid imply feminism is about all women first – but when you’re in the locker room, at the poker table, in the frat house, in the fucking Senate - well, you know. You’re not going to speak up because they don’t mean it, right. And it’s not your time.

And god forbid someone on the internet writes “I hate men.” Do you know how many “I was a male feminist but this is literally why I’m not any more” comments THAT will win.

There’s no reward! Sorry! I shouldn’t have to pay you for being a good person - a concept, that somehow, reviles SO many men. I mean, they’re nice! They don’t hit their wives! They even do the laundry!

i can think of so many movies where the psyche of men at 30 are explored, developed, given extreme thought. but me and mine… we stop existing when it stops being hot. we’re sad spinsters. the crazy aunt. peripheral. never heroine. never given substance. i remember at 16 i used to pity women like me. how sad they weren’t paired up, paired off. it would be better if they were dying.