I’m done dealing with your shit

I am not your mum, I am not your wife, I am not your friend. Who am I? Your worst nightmare.

Today, I’m mad. My friend’s birthday was yesterday. I almost forgot. Her partner however…did forget… this dude lives with her and he forgot. Not just that, he lives with her and he has a child with her, why did he forget?? How the fuck do you forget? Especially when she’s spent the past few months begging this man to pull his weight around the house and look after the child that God so graciously gave him.

My friend is a brave soldier, but as a woman with newly formed standards I consider this to be the final nail in the coffin of the relationship. One day, when the split happens I will remember this as a day that even I got sick of his shit. And I don’t even live with him.

The problem with their relationship is that she got with him when he had nothing, and therefore he never had to prove himself as a man in the relationship. Which means she got into a serious relationship with a man who she didn’t “kick the tyres of” i.e. she had proof he was “male” but not that he was a man… Which is problematic at best. If you can’t prove he’s a man, then he might not be. And in this case… he isn’t.

Everything he has, he owes to her. And rather than fostering a spirit of gratitude, he thinks his dick is enough to keep a relationship. Not his dick specifically, but him just existing is good enough. Well sweetie, it isn’t. She’s been providing for your ass for years. Been through good and bad with you, begging you to commit to the bare minimum. This is hauntingly familiar to me. So, believe me when I say from experience, one day she will stop begging you. And then you, my dear, are fucked. She will rise again. She will be beautiful, raise her daughter, and move on…. You on the other hand don’t have shit and should know better than to bite the hand that feeds you. You have known no other home than hers. Don’t fuck around. Both literally and metaphorically.

The dumbfuckery on both sides has pissed me off. Its not just the matter of a missed birthday. I said wait for a kid before they even started trying. I wanted him to prove he was a man before he put a mans-worth of responsibilities inside her. Her child has been a source of much joy to me, I will not lie. She is a healthy, joyful delight. And her mother, I pray will never regret her child, however the man she had her with, she may regret. Some things don’t end well. Such a power imbalance is not healthy, especially when you have no idea what your relationship will look like when you “finally get all that you desire” it sounds like the lyrics to Tracy Chapman’s “fast car” “You’ll find work and I’ll get promoted, and we’ll move out of the shelter, buy a bigger house and live in the suburbs” ending with “see more of your friends than you do your kids.” Sad. Because now there is a kid involved. A kid, who didn’t ask to be put in such a predictably horrific situation. Sometimes, in fact 100% of the time, love isn’t enough. Wanting a situation to be is not the same as living it.

I wanted to marry Prince Harry, but am I really willing to deal with the deep emotional scarring of a veteran who has seen 2 tours in Afghanistan and all the horrors that can bring, compounded with the fact that he lost his mother at 12? Am I willing to deal with a man who clearly feels like he has been treated badly by his family and all the hurt? No, I wanted to marry a 6ft rich ginger, and be finally acknowledged as my true status, i.e. Princess. I was not willing to deal with all the rest, but that is what really comes with marrying Prince Harry. More power to Meghan. She’s got her hands full.

I can see this stuff coming because I had a couple of experiences with it. My ex was the same, a cousin had 2 kids with a similar man, and she ended up life-alteringly bitter. My ex would complain to the marriage counsellor I would send him on “errands” i.e. ask him to go to the local shops whilst I was cooking. Meanwhile now at work and at play I have men willing to travel miles for me just for because I exist. Men want to provide for me because I am a woman and they are men and that is natural. My ex wouldn’t drive me in a car I was paying for, he’d drive his mistress to Sailsbury, but he wouldn’t drive me. Yet my neighbour will drive me anywhere I want to go, because he’s a gentlemen and gentlemen look out for ladies. At work a man offered to buy me breakfast, (as previously stated in the “men are great post, I should have said yes, the cinnamon bun looked lush") because real men don’t hesitate from performing traditional gender roles. They are traditional because they are naturally suited to the majority of men. If they didn’t work we wouldn’t have kept these patriarchal archetypes for so long. Its now because they don’t work for some women we are pushing back against them. I would say that my marriage sucked joy out of my soul that I will never get back and will heavily influence the decisions I make going forward from a place of deep pain, humiliation and trauma and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Hence why I get so pissed when my friends fall for the “good dick” man. Bring me something!!! Bring me peace, bring me joy! Bring me excitement, bring me connection, bring me love, bring me respect. But grey hairs and poverty? That my dears. is not God’s calling on my life, and God called me to live a life that is remarkable.

So what is my call to action here? Do better. Do better for yourself. We keep acting like we get a do-over and that we can just live our lives again if this one doesn’t work out. We don’t and you will end up mad and bitter when you die anyway, despite the sacrifices. So love yourself. You are no man’s come-up and it is not shameful for a man to do his god-given job. To provide love, safety, peace respect and joy to his woman. To provide a structure on which a home is built. I always think of men like the walls and roof of the house. They set the boundaries, they set the directions, they define their families. The story of my family can be told using “great man theory” however, a woman is the paint, the decor, the utensils and everything in between, she makes a house a home, she fills it with love, she softens and insulates against the hardness of man who protects his kids from the cruelties of the world. She gives simple pleasures and joys like a jumper knitted with love and a home cooked meal made with the same. Why then, is it when a man does not provide those walls and ceiling he is still allowed to live in the Goddamned house? Doing fuck all? I believe everyone, every single human being, has intrinsic value to God… but I am not God. You are all deeply loved by your mother…I am not your mother. Your wife loves and bears with you… I am not your wife. Your friends think you are great… I am not your friend.

Do you know who I am?

I am your worst nightmare.

I am standards.

Grace and Courage.

Annetta Mother Smith