To a woman who understands, a crying man is a turn-on. We, the good women, want you to cry. We want to see emotion crack your face. We want your body to shake and tears run like a broke-banked river down your cheek. We want you to cry like a song to the wound, we want you to heal. We want you to cry over your regrets and failures and for how hard it can be, just being. We want to taste the salt of your tears on our tongues to lick them and treasure them. We want you to cry for happiness and futility. We want you to cry for the break of it, like a rest stop on the highway.
For whatever reason and all the reasons — we love it when you cry.
We’re thirsty.
Women know the sacred value of tears.
In the Inuit tale Skeleton Woman, she puts her mouth to one single tear seeping from the fisherman’s sleeping eye.
“And she became so thirsty … the single tear was like a river and she drank and drank until her many-years-long thirst was slaked.”
Inuit tale, Skeleton Woman
.
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In the tale through the fisherman’s tenderness to her, even though she was hideous and mangled, and through the alchemy of shared compassion, and drinking his tear, Skeleton Woman becomes whole with flesh and hair and he wakes entwined in a bond with a beautiful luscious loving woman.
We want to love you. A man crying in front of his woman increases their bond, their intimacy with the healing balm of compassion. She can show you she is a safe port for your emotions. She will hold you and stroke your brow and murmur tones of sympathy and encouragement.
She will whisper — you are brave and sweet.
Men aren’t allowed to cry in our sick society. There’s some toxic advice out there so prevalent it’s become a kind of law; a false and fatal belief. Men don’t cry. It shows weakness. Men aren’t allowed to be weak. They’re not allowed to be human. Don’t cry — just get on with it.
A man I knew once said to his little boy who was tearful “Go to the fridge and get yourself a can of Toughen-Up.”
Anger is unexpressed hurt. Plain and simple. Anyone who feels like crying but suppresses it, male or female, will translate the stuck emotion into anger at self and others and in worst-case scenarios, the anger becomes rage or depression. And we know where that gets us.
A good woman will find your painful tears delicious. She gets the opportunity to do the most feminine thing — soothe and comfort. For a man crying in her presence makes her feel wanted, alive, true to herself — she can be the soft healer for you, tend to your wounds. Be a witness to your realness. Be a sacred partner as you delve deep and let your heart crack. It’s sexy for us.
The crack is how the light gets in.
– Leonard Cohen
We, the women, are thirsty for your tears.
We want you to find out, what you are made of. We want you to know yourself warts and all and we want to know you too. We want to offer succor to hold your head to our breasts. We want to hold your hand while you do the work of self-connection. We know the real work is soul work. We want you to cry like a baby so we can get closer to you and rock you and touch you and love you.
We see how hard you work protecting and providing. We see the gentle things you do for us and others. The manly things like chopping wood and holding out your arm for support while we slide down steep slopes in unsuitable shoes. We see you getting up early to scrape ice off the window screen.
We see you turn the other cheek and rationalise.
We feel you.
And when life becomes too hard, or the sorrow too keen, or the obstacles too riddle-like we see you retreat. We see you gather your strength and despite the rain, load up the truck with tools and go out and solve the problem in wet clothes. We see you make plans and sort things out. We see you stare into space. We see you drive a little too fast. We see you choose loud music over the sound of your own heart.
But our womanly arms are open wide and ready for you when you’re ready to seek comfort – when you‘re ready to have a good cry. A woman’s particular strength is holding the space so her man may feel. Without judgment or fear. In the warmth of her understanding heart and in the embrace of her intuitive arms.
It’s a sacred thing.
Go on, have a good snotty cry.
You will feel better.
Strong, sweet and brave.
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This post was previously published on Medium.
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Photo credit: Brooke Cagle on Unsplash