The two women to whom I owe the most gratitude and for whom I have the most admiration are both very different, but they do have one important thing in common, they are both mothers. In my old fashioned world, being a mother is the highest form of the expression of womanhood, something which sadly nowadays fewer women get to experience.
To my wife, gorgeous and kind. Thank you for bearing our children and for the utter devotion you showed to them when they were small and helpless. The memories of you giving birth to them will stay with me forever and are amongst my happiest. I will always be in awe of the way you pushed our babies out of your body – I have never seen anybody so focused, determined and totally ‘in the zone’. You did not cry and you did not make a fuss, you were truly amazing. Thank you to the midwives who took care of you and our babies, they impressed me with how they carried out their important task. They even took the time to make sure that I was doing alright too.
My sweet wife, you are older now and our babies are nearly fully grown men, but I still fancy you as much as when we first met on that night when our planets were in alignment. You are a good woman, but you will never be ‘red-pilled’ in the way that I am. You are definitely ‘pink-pilled’ in your own way though; a way which 95% of other women are not and cannot be. For this I am grateful, because when we talk about men’s and women’s issues, you more or less understand what I mean. That is about as far as I think you will ever go with these issues, which are so important to me but less so to you.
To my mother, also present at one of the births of my children, I want to thank you too. You had the hardest of childhoods, but it did not make you a hardened person. You have always given me your love in abundance, even when I haven’t deserved it. You are very old now mum, but still going strong. I can still remember you taking me to your work when I was little and you setting me up to play, whilst you cleaned the houses of women who were richer than you. Mum, when you talk about your past, you occasionally tell me about the people who have upset you, even though the upset might have been from 30 or 40 years ago. You are a sensitive soul. It interests me how the people you still feel wronged by were all women, and that you only have good things to say about the men you knew and worked with.
Mum, your utter devotion to my father, your husband, now long dead, never ceases to inspire me. Your admiration for the the man whom you married and your refusal to find another man after he died, shows the unbreakable strength of your love. You did this because you knew that no other man would have been good enough, compared to the man you married.
Even though we are celebrating Women’s Day, I feel I must mention my long dead father. Why? Because the care and patience he showed for my mother was immense. He protected her and cared for her, and helped my mother navigate the world in ways which she could never have done on her own. When you died dad, your only concern was that somebody would look after mum. You asked me to take care of mum, and I promised you that I would. I have not broken my promise for all these years, just as other men have taken care of the women they love, since the beginning of human history.
Caring for my women, my wife and my mother, is a burden I gladly bear. The idea that men hate women is a terrible lie; men love women and we are deeply programmed to provide for them and to keep them alive. Anybody who says otherwise is a liar with a twisted agenda; we all know who these people are.
So thank you dear wife and thank you dearest mum. Thank you for the life you brought forward into the world; new life, the highest expression of womanhood.
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