An extract from a Journal of a misogynist

I hate women. I am subdued at the presence of fellow men and strong women. I shrink at anyone that I think is better than me.  I have been a door rug for long. This is my turn. I lay in wait like a lion in the savannah for my prey – the broken, the naïve and the lonely.

I hate it when the women I bully stand up to me. That makes me want to die. That dehorns me.  That takes away my power. It gives me pleasure when my victims flare up. I hate the women that left me I mean it was me supposed to leave them before they left me.  Empowered women  intimidate me. But I have found a way of controlling some. I isolate them using the old predator trick. I marinate them in love. I open the door to their cars. I chauffeur them. I cuddle them. I completely subdue them until they hopelessly fall for me.

It is time to attack.

I have mastered my stealthy subtle weapons. I post pictures of prettier women on Facebook and call them woman crush Wednesday. I down play her achievements. I flirt with other women and leave the phone where she can’t resist sneaking into it. I introduce her to all my friends. I break the players’ code. I even introduce her to my family. She introduces me to her family and friends. I am the nicest person they know. I win all their hearts. I have hinted marriage. She is high up, I remove the ladder. She begs me to catch her. This makes me happy. I instigate a fight and she slaps me. I seek counsel from my friends. They hate and gang up against her. I report her to her siblings and they blame her.

I now know that she is submerged, she gives me anything I ask for. I then come with my saucer eyes. I go on my knees and beg her to stay. We have steamy sex. At this point, she gives me her money. I post a pictures of us on Facebook. I tweet her love a note.  She now pays my rent, she will buy me a suit when I need it, she cooks all my dinners, she washes my clothes. She cleans my house. She pays for the movies at the cinema. She will do anything to make me stay. I see the desperation in her eyes.

I know that she will soon break and move on. She has started speaking to friends and that is making me uncomfortable. I am not worried because I have already identified a victim. I met her at a bar the other day all by herself, tears streaming down her cute chunky cheeks. She says that her shitty boyfriend left her. I bought her a drink, I gave her my business card. I will take her on dates. I will take her for movies and buy her dinner. Remember, I am not spending on rent. I have a desperate rat at my house. I am hatching a plan of how to throw this rat out. This crying one too has a job. I stalked her on Facebook she is a banker. I think she earns six figures.  I am sorted.

Well, this is pure fiction. This is me imagining what goes on in a Misogynist’s mind.”

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