As a kid I listened to the song, “Go your own way” by Fleetwood Mac
“You can go your own way,
You can call it thunder, or just another day…”
(the way I heard it, anyway…)
So when I heard of ‘Men Go their own way’, I felt a sense of inspiration.
First off, yes, I’m a cisgender female. And MGTOW is a place/movement for men who have been hurt at the hands of women.
And I respect that. The best example of a MGTOW would be post-break up Brad Pitt who made the choice to travel and pursue his own creative dreams and endeavors, rather than try for romantic love.
Some people think that the concept of MGTOW is anti-women. So took that as a challenge. Could I create a female character who would not be seen as an adversary? lets see:
The light in the room flickered. With each blink, the burst of light left a trail in my vision. P-R-I-D-E. I was grateful to be alive, in a hospital, in my home state. This day was a blessing but, also, long overdue.
I hated the idea of being a cuck.
I turned to my beautiful, loving wife. I try to focus on her eyes, her smile, everything I had been dreaming about and dreading. But all I could see was Matthew Remy. I had seen his photo during my Facebook stalking. He looked like he could be her cousin. They had the same brown hair, brown eyes. The only difference was his skin color. The guy was dark; Cajun, maybe Italian. But one fact was undeniable; the baby growing inside her would grow up to look like Matthew, haunting me for the rest of my days.
I closed my eyes and laid back in my bed. My teenage daughter was in a coma just a few doors down. That needed to be my focus, my goal- to get out of this bed and be the father she needed. But my rage would not subside. I tore my hand from my wife’s grasp. “Do you even want to stay with me? Or are you just waiting for the morally appropriate time to leave?”
Marni nodded, gripping her pregnant stomach. It was clear she was trying to choose her response wisely. “Matt asked me to marry him.”
“Fuck…” I muttered, turning away. “I knew it.” If she left me the military would make sure she was taken care of; I could die sick and alone while she could reaped the benefits.
“I said no.” Marni wiped her tears on her sleeve before taking a seat by my side. “I don’t want him, I never wanted him.” she placed her hand upon mine, lacing her fingers through my knuckles.
I wanted to pull away again, maybe even hit her. Yeah, right. In my current state, the physical exertion would have caused me to puke all over myself. I had no choice but to hear her out.
“When I said I was lonely I wasn’t talking out of my ass.”
I chuckled. Marni’s sense of humor was one of the first things i fell in love with. “I just wish you would have gotten a dog, instead of…”
“I got with a dog, alright,” Marni said with a knowing nod. She bit her lip in a way that was meant to coax a smile out of me.
It did. “You’re such a fucking bitch,” I said with a genuine laugh.
Marni chuckled through tears. “Yeah, that was all on me. I got lonely, got drunk, I left the bar with a hot guy who wanted to fuck me.” She bit her lip and blinked her eyes. “I let him say nice things to me, spend his money on me.” Looking up at the ceiling she took a soft breath as if in prayer. “I was a whore, and God wanted to make damn sure everyone knew. You didn’t deserve this; the hurt, the humiliation. But I never said I was sorry.”
“I wouldn’t have believed you, anyway. You kept his kid.”
“I know.” Marni gave my hand a squeeze before softly releasing my fingers. “Do you remember when we first met?”
“Feels like a lifetime ago…”
“In high school you were the sexy, baseball player with the amazing body.” She traced her fingers along my wrist, up my bicep.
When I was thirteen, I started weight training. I wanted to gain confidence, gain control. By high school, the result was a body that got the attention of everyone from army recruiters to college scouts, and dozens of hot freshman girls who wanted me to be their fairy tale homecoming prince.
“It was a badge of honor to suck you off behind the bleachers.” Marni’s voice no longer sounded like a woman of her age. This was the voice of a teenage girl; a punk-rock, southern goth princess, whose sexy pierced lips, smeared black lipstick all over my cock.
“And I know I wasn’t the only one.”
“No ma’am you were not.” I took sex from anyone who offered; cheerleaders, teachers, and one brilliant punk girl with a face full of piercing and a tongue that felt so good. Marni-Lynn Brewer was like no other girl. Sweet, smart, and tough, she quickly become my best friend.
“All the popular girls said you looked like a soldier, the all-American hero, the kind of boy who would take care of a woman,” her southern accent slipped in. “But from the moment I looked in to your sky-blue eyes, I saw something more. You needed a friend, an aly: someone just as fucked up as you.”
“You and me against the world?”
“Maybe. Even if you can’t forgive me, I will always be your friend.”