How Men Should Love All Women

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It’s easy for most men to love the women they know – mothers, sisters, aunts, grandmothers, daughters – even though, unfortunately, some men can’t even manage that. Most guys can also find no problem in being agreeable to that cute barista who serves their morning coffee, the girl on the bus, that hot babe from Accounts. After all, he gets something from them, either his coffee or at least a little buzz of sexual excitement that, for a brief moment, makes life feel more interesting.

However, what about the women he does not know – the ones he’s never met, the women he’s only seen on TV, in movies, who live far away or are from another culture? What does it say about him if he judges such women, calls them rude names or dismisses them? Would he do the same if they were his daughters?

Perhaps he feels he should improve his attitude – but how? How should a man learn to love all women? I’ll tell you how I do it and then you can compare.

I had a good start on this. Whereas my father was violent, rude, emotionally abusive and frighteningly unpredictable, my mother was an absolute rock of stability. She was always there for me. She never let me down. I was inspired by her example. I wanted to be reliable like her. Not every man has a mother like mine. Some mothers are unreliable, addicted to drugs, passed out on the kitchen floor from alcohol or all manner of things.

So let’s start there. So your mum let you down. Nevertheless, the way she let you down was no greater than the way a man would have let you down if he had the same problem. There is no reason why the way she let you down was somehow a greater form of hurt simply because she was female.

I have heard how some men resent women because of perceived hurts caused by him being weaned as an infant by her and that there is this sense of wanting revenge. What a pile of garbage! So do only baby boys get weaned? Don’t baby girls get weaned, too? I don’t see them taking revenge, though.

Women represent 50% of the human race. For me, I’m so glad about that. Women are the oxygen of my life. I don’t know what my life would be like if they were not around. I can’t imagine not having any to talk to or be with – an absolutely suffocating existence that would be. I know what it would feel like, though. I know because I have felt it before. There is this sense of stress in my chest. My rib cage feels constricted. My breathing feels shallow. Anxiety creeps up. A mild but insistent fear begins to build. I look around at the street scene and imagine walking down it alone.

It feels like some 1940’s Humphrey Bogart film noir. Darkened streets, slick with rain, streetlights reflecting in the puddles. Who cares about my life? So what if I was holding down a good job – what’s the point – no one to share it with. Why work hard for nothing? There is this incessant yearning for companionship, centered in my chest, pulling me on down the street, and the gnawing terror that I might not find it or, even worse, find it but lose it by messing up. I can’t afford that to happen. I can’t stand the loneliness, the feelings never shared, the emotions never communicated. Must I shoulder on into the wilderness? I can’t stand this feeling. I need someone to connect with, someone I can trust. Who’s good at this?

This type of person is called A WOMAN. Although I had a great start with my rock-solid mother, my female-dominant family and other awesome women in my life and the foundation of my love for women is definitely located there, it must be said that the majority of my love comes from the sheer appreciation I feel for her, thanks to the intense relief I get from all that negativity I’ve just described. The sense of safety she engenders as at last, I find someone warm to come to, knowing that talking about emotions is what she loves to do – the currency of female connection and the way women interact. I want to feel this and I want to feel normal and connected to other people, a natural desire that is planted in everyone.

I realize that this might not be the case for everybody. Obviously, for gay guys, they would get this from A MAN. However, I’m straight and the reason why is because I get this from A WOMAN. Which came first, the chicken or the egg?

Building on this sense of trust, I can now feel safe to express my sexuality. I could wax lyrical about the female form, how fabulous it is, how I love everything about the way women look – their lustrous hair, winning smiles, the way they flirt with their eyes, the secret language of hand gestures and body language – the crossing of legs, dangling her shoe on the end of her foot, twirling the strands of her hair. I love a woman’s legs and the curve of her hips, her hourglass shape. As the French say, “vive la difference!”

What if, though, she isn’t beautiful? What if she isn’t friendly? What if she doesn’t show interest towards your attraction? What if she can’t understand your language or comes from a different culture? What if she outright rejects you? Is this cause to dislike or demean her or treat her less than? No, because there’s always another woman, different from her. Most importantly, no matter how terrible, she still belongs to that 50%, that other side that can offer an emotional connection to relieve that which would otherwise exist if she wasn’t there. Further, the question needs to be asked – why did she reject you? Is it really because she can’t stand your guts? More likely it’s because she could see no connection with you and that you are not yet skilled in creating it. Will you volunteer to learn? You had better if you ever want to feel and sense that belonging.

So it’s not even a question of “Why should I?” What – do you prefer misery and pain, then? Would you rather just muddle through life with everything all bottled up, as best you can, when the solution lies all around you? Why wouldn’t you learn how – it’s for your benefit! If it means becoming a feminist to achieve some common ground – OK, go ahead and do it! To choose feminism is to choose joy and life and taste that freedom.

So let’s say you do all this and you greatly improve and things are going great and you find a new lease of life and taste that fruit and things are swell. How can you know that you love all women enough? I would say they are a number things that can really test your love for womankind –

THEIR LOVE OF DICHOTOMY – she wants to be treated as a princess and as a slut, a good girl and a bad girl, independent yet act helpless, submissive yet in control. Can you handle that? Are you chill with it? If so, maybe your love is enough. If not, then it isn’t.

PORNSTARS AND PROSTITUTES – following on from that, how do you feel about these women? Does their behavior disgust you? Do you feel they are bad? Can you no longer maintain respect for a woman who does these jobs? Do they offend you? Why? If you want to hate something, then hate the exploitation of these women, hate the objectification of their bodies; but to hate the actual female pornstar, the actual flesh-and-blood woman performing these sex acts on camera? You’ve completely lost the plot, man – all sense of reality. I’ve heard some people say porn makes men hate women. I don’t agree. I think it just magnifies what already exists in your heart. If you love women, porn will make you love them more. If you hate women, it will make you hate them more. So if you dislike women in porn, then face the fact that you never really loved women to begin with. Stuff you!

PUTTING THEM FIRST – Do you talk over women? Stop that. Do you interrupt her when she’s speaking? Shut up. Do you believe her rape story? Start now. Do you want to understand her more? Just keep silent and listen.

If you can handle these things, then maybe even women themselves will start to believe that you care. Then she’ll open up and you can join the sisterhood and you’ll never feel that pain again.

As for me, women remain the joy of life – for is she not my out-and-out companion and partner, the sharer of my heart, the keeper of my secrets and of my pleasure, too?

So let’s step forward boldly and proclaim our love for women – because wherever she is, I want to be there, too.

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Photo by Nathan McBride on Unsplash