The other day, I was sitting in a camp chair under the golf umbrella my husband brought for me at a soccer game in the rain watching the little boys on the soccer team my son plays on slog through the liquid sunshine of the Pacific Northwest; and by that standard, it has been positively tropical, as in downpour, more rain than any other time since records have been kept.

Yet, there my husband stood, soaked.  Water dripping off of him like he was standing underneath a firehose with the wind whipping the water off of his jacket, which was soaked through to his sweat shirt, because I can see it dripping off of the inside of his jacket and soaking his pants and the mud soaked strip of grass that he has been pacing up and down.  Just like every one of the young men covered in mud playing the game.  Cheering and cajoling them to dig deeper and patiently suffer, after spending the week working about 20 hours of overtime to provide for us.

I am in awe sometimes of his ability to tolerate misery.  He certainly must be miserable right?  I mean no one could possibly enjoy this.  My newly painted toes were soaked (who gives up on summer so easily, especially after a pedicure?) and my coffee was getting cold underneath my shelter here.  I looked around and just about every other Dad is underneath a canopy or a Hello Kitty umbrella huddled against the storm, but there are a hardy few that aren’t and they look to be int he same condition as my husband.  Proudly and patiently suffering like him, as if they are immune to it.

I remember three of the most important things (so far) my husband  has said to our son.

“Son, you can take everything I own and light it on fire, as long as you and mommy are safe; we can get it all back….  (I am certain it wasn’t in order of importance, and he meant the dogs as well).

“Always seek the better.”

“It pays to be a winner.”

That last one originally was like nails on a chalkboard for me.  It just rubbed me wrong in the way he said it; so sure of it as if it was absolute truth.  That was, until I saw my son score his first goal.

And as I contemplate that memory of us walking away from the game, with my son in his rain soaked uniform and the smile on my son’s mud flecked face , it occurs to me…

Feminizm.    You…  Have…  Failed….

The part of this story you didn’t know up to this point is that my son’s soccer coach is a woman, and her son plays on the team, and her husband is an assistant coach (how about that Gloria Allred?!) and as I watch her and her husband, I watch the boys take their cues and their direction from him and virtually completely ignore her.  She looks exasperated.  Her high pitched voice doesn’t carry nearly like her husband’s does as he calls who is going in and subbing out.  I watch as my son ignores her and jumps at the sound of the assistant coach’s male voice.

I asked my husband about this afterward in the car and this is what he said to me.]

“Men like the sound of other men and appreciate the company of other men.  We see things in a heirarchical manner and we respect power.  Women telling us what to do or giving us direction irritates us down to our very DNA.  It is not the order of things.”

Now some of you are going to freak out at what he said and for the record, we don’t live a 50’s life trapped in a Leave it to Beaver fantasy.  But this statement explains a lot.  For men, it is the order of things.  My husband can get a 1000 percent more compliance out of my son on just about everything than I can.  When he tells him to do something, he does it with much less complaining and with much more urgency.  He watches his father and what he does and tries to imitate him, at some points providing me with many moments of comic relief.

Feminism’s ultimate lie is that you have to be like man to be more like a woman.  I fail to understand how this is even possible.  I thought we were supposed to still be women?  We have certainly made great strides in our liberation.  We have control of our bodies (except Sandra Fluke, who needs the patriarchal, male dominated government to stay out of her uterus, but pay for her birth control), we hold political office (although that even leads me to believe that some women should have stayed home), we run corporations, we serve and lead in the military (but in order to be fair, evidently we are going to have to sign up for the draft and be subjected to serving in the Infantry).

But the most important thing we women do is teach our sons how to interact with the women in their lives, and what is expected of them by us.  The next most important thing we do is teach the young women in our lives the importance of men in their own lives and how to expect to be treated by them.

But an ideology that hates and marginalizes men can’t be reasonably expected to teach them about the importance and necessity of men, and an ideology that fails to recognize the inherent differences between men and women, despite the massive amount of evidence in this regard, is doomed to failure.  In today’s society, the constant marginalization of men has created a backlash, among both men and women about our roles.

And from feminizm, one of many examples of their blatant failure is that we now have a society filled with media people, political leaders and policy wonks that tells me that as a woman, I am incapable of making the decision to have an AR-15 rifle for the defense of my home so we should make a law that prevents me from doing so, but I should have the option, nay, the right, to carry an M-16 as a newly minted “infantry woman” in today’s modern army in the name of “equality”, so we ought to make a law that allows me to do so.

Feminizm’s last battle is upon us, and it will be a losing one for them, and those obstinate, unhappy, man hating bee-otches aren’t going quietly.  They stand a pretty good chance of ruining it for good for everyone before we can squelch out their worthless ideas.  The sisterhood that thinks we are the equal of a man, can have it all, and do everything they can do, only better, haven’t watched a woman in the army struggle to carry the same “combat load” that a man her size would have less difficulty with.  The liberal quilting bee that sings “anything you can do, I can do better” haven’t watched an MMA fight.

The ladies that think man/woman = same/same in leadership haven’t watched  or been to a little boys soccer game where the coach was a woman.

Men long to be men and from what I have seen of their lives, the tolerance of suffering and hardship are one of the myriad of ways they measure their manliness.  They measure toughness through perseverance, scars, and war stories about how “bad” things were and how they made it through.

I thought for a long time that I didn’t need a man to make my world complete, because I believed in some of the lies of Feminizm; and then I met my husband, and I understood what the definition of “meant to be together” was.  I have lived in my husband’s world a long time, and as I watch my son growing to be a man under his guidance, I do my part to show him how he should act and treat women; dare I speak the blasphemous truth?

My husband is right;  it is not the order of things.  And it pays to be a winner.