Forget the recent feminist riot - carry women bags, pay for them in cafes, open doors for them, protect them, take on their problems.
My dear men, I would like to ask you only one thing in this life - be men! Forget the recent feminist riot - carry women bags, pay for them in cafes, open doors for them, protect them, take on their problems. Maybe you will understand why all this, and why exactly you, when you come home for the thousandth time, and everything is so cozy there, your towels are of different colors in the bathroom, a plate with dinner is worth it. Or maybe, when everything will fall out of hand - work, business, friends, and she is your good, she will be next to her every day - kissing her hands, lying in a ball at your feet and telling you that you are the best. Or maybe, when you see how much health and nerves she lost, carrying your baby under her heart, or when, after 12-16-20 hours of childbirth in agony, she will give you an heir.
Be kind to her. Stop wagging her nerves with your pride, masculine logic, strength of character. Call her. Especially when you have a fight, call her. If you could only see how bitterly she cries after you hung up the phone, went online, slammed the door. No, she is not crying as beautifully as in the films they show, in a pillow and quietly. She sobs into tears, smearing tears over her ugly, swollen, red face. You can hear her on the street, in the next apartment. She howls in pain that you are causing her. Call her, come back, come. Grab her in your arms and carry her out of this grief, like from a fire on a fire.
Don't hurt her. Don't shout, don't insult. You kill her with words. Her, kind, gentle, real. She becomes angry, cruel and vengeful, simply because you once threw evil in her face "bitch!" You later regretted a thousand times about what was said, done, and abandoned in your hearts. But the moment has already passed. Part of her has already died, because you can't even imagine how unbearably painful it is to hear evil words from your most beloved and dear one. You will make up later, only she will not forget anyway. She will not remind you, but she will scroll your words in her head more than once, cry alone, cut her heart into small pieces. And then you, dear men, will wonder why there is so much cynicism and indifference in her. She sews and knits it from the scars on her heart. The scars you left there.
Be jealous of her. Passionately, violently, furiously. Hit the walls with your fists, stomp your feet, smash everything around. Just never tell her that she is to blame for this. Do not blame her, do not blame her. Better to let “the goat that looked at her” be wrong in everything. But let her remain a saint for you. Trust me, if she wants to change, she will, and you won't know. But if you paid attention, she did it on purpose. That at least in this way you showed her that you are jealous, which means that you love, appreciate and are afraid of losing. It means that she doubted, in herself, in your feelings. It means that he is afraid for your "we".
Talk to her about it more often. Say that she is your everything that is with her, as in paradise. Let it be sugary cinematic, let it be. Speak! If suddenly tomorrow it will not be. But she will be gone someday. After all, we all will be gone someday. Life, because it is so short, so unpredictable, can end in an instant. So, if she is gone tomorrow, you will never have a chance to tell her everything. Speak, dear ones, speak. Promise, don't spare promises, don't be afraid to cheat. She is so happy when she hears promises, when she dreams, hopes for something very good. She is so beautiful at this moment, so SHE … Hasn't she deserved it? Yes, even if you part the day after tomorrow, isn't it worth all those fifteen minutes when you lay in an embrace and dreamed of your beautiful future! Costs! Every second is worth it! Because there are so few seconds in our lives.
And we also limit ourselves. We weigh, calculate, think over, we idiots, damn it, build relationships! And you just have to live a relationship! Just love, suffer, burn. Say what you think right now, right this minute.
Get up from behind your computer, open the window, and shout with all your might: "I LOVE YOU, STUPID !!!" And let her laugh, shout to move away from the window, let her blush, or pseudo-angry. Do it, and if she is not there, call, open the window, and everything is on the list, and listen to the phone how she smiles.
Compliment her. She is not for herself - for you she washes her feet in the blood with uncomfortable but beautiful shoes, for you she wears uncomfortable but sexy underwear, for you she spoils the skin with expensive cosmetics. Or cheap. Buy her already dear, love her, be a man! For you, she earns varicose veins in heels, for you she cries over torn tights. For you, dear, She's all like this for you. For herself, she is at home in family shorts and dad's stretched sweater, with a tail on her head. And she is a fairy, as you know her, for you.
And be you already a real knight. Fight for it, defend it, throw your chest into the embrasure. Let everyone be shit, and she's the queen. And even if she is wrong, never in word or deed, do not show this to anyone around. Because they, those around, will not make chamomile tea for you in the morning, they will not tuck a blanket into you, they will not love you as she does. So spit on them, lift her higher than all these strangers to you. After all, believe me, she does the same. And for her, you are the best, and everyone else does not exist.
Endure her tantrums. It is full of hormones, they rebel. But know, all her tears, snot, drooling in different directions, incomprehensible insults and nagging, screams, so that the walls are shaking - all this, not so that you open your mouth in response and cover it with a three-story one, but so that you come up, hug and say: "It's okay, baby, I love you and I won't give you to anyone." And you will fix the rest together. When she weeps into your shoulder, sitting on your lap.
Goodbye her. Be sure to say goodbye. After all, you can't even imagine how much you have to forgive her.
Talk to her. Don't be silent, I beg you. She does not understand you as much as you understand her. Tell her everything as it is. Don't let her spend so many sleepless nights thinking about your silence or action or inaction. She really thinks that you have already stopped loving, found another, or that you have never fallen in love, that you do not care. Speak sney. Save her from these bitter, unhappy minutes, hours, days.
Dear man, the dream of any girl is not that you come to a BMW and take her to a castle in France, but that you, if suddenly in your hearts sent her to hell, hung up and seemed to leave forever, found yourself at her metro stop completely unexpectedly on the next day. With a bouquet of flowers. Yes, or just like that. No flowers. It just happened. Suddenly. And he said, "I'm wrong, I came."
Men! Love your women, pamper them, carry them in your arms, call them queens. Fight for them, fight for them. Be kind, generous to them. Shock with beautiful, sweeping gestures. You will then understand why. You will definitely understand one day. When the whole world betrays, and she is a fragile, gentle princess, she takes everything on her shoulders and pulls up from the bottom. Then you will understand everything.