@mappletree @ConflictingTheories It’s a little bit of a power dynamic, but it can be simplified into who’s ‘life’ we’re living in. I hate women who come into my domain and insist everything be rearranged for their purpose. They look at my stuff and start to dissect it and decide what’s going to stay, and what’s going to go in order to fit her dream life, and she sets to work modifying everything with impunity as if she’s a conglomerate acquiring a small company.
That ever-present “oh….well, we can’t have THAT” always comes out when they wanna get rid of motorcycles or guns or anything that doesn’t fit into their ideal of (an often dysfunctional) home.
They want my lifestyle but they don’t like having to put up with its costs, they like being able to brag to their friends about getaways and travel, until it turns out that I’m on the road when they want me to go to a friend’s wedding to show off.
They don’t like it when I go on adventures of my own with my own circle, they freak out when I text them that I’m not gonna be home for a week because a cool opportunity came up. Mommies feel absolute, unlimited right to my time and attention (which I’ll only give once she gives me children, THEN we’re playing a diff. game) to assign as she sees fit. She’ll do stuff that benefits her like telling friends that I’ll spend $3k flying them to vegas for the weekend, or that I’m helping her lazy sister move for free.
They like that “DGAF attitude” until it runs up against what they want - which, if they’re that mommy-type, happens more than they expect. When I’m with someone she’s entering my life, my domain, and I’m gonna do whatever the hell I want however I want to. That doesn’t mean I go crazy, or even exercise that freedom, but I retain absolute power in my dominion, and I often choose to use it to make her happy anyway.
That’s kind of the outlook diff. A mommy sees me as a utility, an acquisition, a guy that’s to be subsumed and parted out in order to make a life for her - it’s totally self-serving and all too often retarded. They expect to emulate her parent’s shit marriage, where dad’s relegated to nothing more than an economic engine, handyman, and assignable labor hand wherever it benefits mom. I won’t enter a woman’s life, she’ll enter mine.
I know what I want, if that meshes with what she does (though she often has no idea what she really wants) then we’ll get along great. But you can’t be enthralled with a wild bear and get mad when he refuses to ride the unicycle for you