Yes, I’m jealous of abusive men.
Well, I guess all of feminism has been figured out, sir, due to your faceless, profile-less account. Yes, it is true: I’m jealous of abusive men.
Why else would I have spent so much time dating one, breaking up with one, being stalked and terrified of one, being belittled and threatened by one?
Why else would I have spent time healing, moving on, traveling, and learning about red flags and spiritual wounds?
I am jealous of abusive men — why can’t I have one again? Why can’t I live in that kind of terror again, the kind where I never really sleep, because he’s even in my nightmares?
I am jealous of abusive men — All the nonconsensual sex I could be having, instead of writing books and traveling and making new friends and meeting hunky surfer bros. I could be his prisoner, having his babies. Gosh, darn. I am missing out.
It is as you say. Because why else, other than jealousy, would I try to warn other women about abusive men? Why would I be calling out when they travel abroad to smack women in the face with money at the casino? Why would I write books about women finding their way in life, unless I were jealous of abused women and those abusive men? Why can’t I have a love like that again?
