The Men Who Secretly Loathe Women
Under the skin, they are seething.
They hate the space you occupy. They hate your laughter and the fact that you write better than they ever will. They hate that you're beautiful and people notice. They hate that you exist outside their control. Your brightness bothers them. They wait for the right moment to cut you down. A sarcastic smile when someone notices you. A carefully timed sigh when someone else calls you brilliant. They're waiting for you to treat their approval like oxygen.
When the hate lives close to you it is a slow poison. He will smile to your face and cut you down behind your back. He'll say he's happy for your success, then sulk when you succeed more than him. He'll make sure everyone knows his work matters, while yours is "just a hobby."
You feel it in the pause after your good news. You see it in his eyes when you speak of things that matter. It takes time to understand who you're with. You wanted someone who wouldn't flinch at your fire, but you found a man who only loves the version of you he can control. You second-guess your joy. You soften your edges just to keep the peace. Your body apologizes for existing. You work harder and harder to earn what should have been yours already. You over-function to justify the space you take up, while he waits for you to disappear until he finally feels tall.
Then, he will leave you for someone easier to manipulate and the joke writes itself. He downgrades, finds someone whose brilliance won't glare back at him. Watching the replacement is like watching a child pick the toy that won't talk back. He has finally found someone as naïve as he needs her to be. A perfect match in mediocrity. Small men need someone smaller so their egos stop hurting.
He parades her to prove something: that he's the one who decides your value. He builds a little theatre where two women watch each other and he feels significant. A staged act that punishes you while restoring his fragile power.
A man who secretly hates women will always corrode the tenderness he pretends to offer. He can rehearse the lines, but he's only waiting for the moment you fade, or forget the rights to your own name.
Don't shrink to fit a room built for a smaller man. Don't cut your voice to suit his insecurity. Don't mistake his hunger for your light as love for your soul. Don't dim yourself hoping he'll finally see you.
The real you is the only one worth the air. Let him choke on the light you refuse to hide.