The immature man will compare women. Say who has better breasts. Personality.
Who is more feminine. Who is the s*xiest.
Pitting women against eachother. Creating jealousy and competition and fear and insecurity.
Like a teenager, he will feel out of control. He will blame her for it.
The dangerous man will resent a woman alive in her s*x and try to make her pay.
How dare she be so beautiful?
How dare she make him want her so much?
He will blame her clothing, her body, her charisma, for making him feel out of control.
Instead of savoring his delicious lust, he will vomit it onto her.
He will hold her responsible for what every terrible woman in his life did. Every woman who did not show up for him, like they should.
You can feel the seething vile in such a man.
He is a walking volcano of hurt and self-loathing under the surface, because somewhere down the line, someone shamed him for his s*x. Abused it. Took charge of it. Did not protect it. Either energetically or literally.
When he was soft and needing and connected to his feminine, someone tore him from that place of peace.
He has been on a rampage ever since, trying to burn away his own inner feminine as to no longer feel that level of pain again.
It makes sense the feminine in the world infuriates him. Entraps his joy.
Ever since the day his joy in trusting in his inner feminine was taken, he will try to make a woman pay. He will try to protect himself and take what is his and never be vulnerable again.
Then no one gets hurt.
The heart of toxic masculinity is pain.
“Why would you want me? I do not want me. I only cause harm.”
Toxic masculinity stems from the wounded sweet boy, that no one was tending to.
The confused child whose delicate innocence was smashed by people who should have known better.
This is why he cannot trust his desire. This is why he is haunted by his lust.
As a woman, it is not your job to help, heal, explain.
Do not cover up your s*x because it confuses or brings up an avalanche of pain and fear in men who have suffered.
Do not hide, play down yourself, re-parent, stay. You cannot figure it out for him.
Hold a mirror up to his wounds. Speak to the pain that was here before you. He gets to decide to do something beyond masking his hurt in the things society encourages men to do:
F*ck a lot.
Yet be a good boy.
Don’t make a mistake.
Don’t let anyone down.
Or you will be less of a man.
The most loving thing you can do is let his rage have him. The rage that cuts him off from you and himself.
The only thing that can save him, is feeling the full weight of his actions. And then he finally has a choice:
Do I do as I always have done? Fear, hate, lie, condemn, kill the feminine?
Do I reach out for something beyond this pain? Do I risk being truly hurt in order to let someone in? Let someone help me?
Being a strong man means being willing to go back to the places that were destroyed and slowly find the pieces that feel broken and make sense of them again.
Follow the thread of shame back to the heart: His tenderness. His need. His longing for love and his unshakable fear that he is broken beyond repair and does not deserve love.
That he has made too many mistakes.
To love the man in his toxic masculine is to leave him. Do not get stuck in the web of sorrow that surrounds him.
Do not play the games.
Only then can there be true healing.