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Bleeding to Believe
Published 09/10/16 by Bancroft [0 Comments]

A short recollection of my journey in a creative format.

I think it's useful for men to occasionally take the time to recollect their progress from where they started from to where they're currently at. I'm sure for many men, like myself, this includes far more failures than successes but equally more painfully challenging opportunities for growth than simple, effortless shortcuts to complacency.

In some ways it's not really where you end up—we're all forgotten eventually—but what you saw, encountered, and ultimately decided to change that should really mater to you.

I know it does for me.


I remember when nothing felt better than talking to her, getting to know her, and “connecting” with her

I remember when we’d fight and it felt like my world was ending

I remember when we made up and the sex felt like my world was alive again

I remember when I first started noticing her withdrawing, holding back, and going out more

I remember when I didn’t question her newfound motives or actions and argued to myself it’s not her, it’s just a normal part of relationships

I remember every single word she carefully recited all the times I confronted her

I remember not questioning the truth of those words or actions and argued to myself it’s not her, it’s just a normal part of relationships

I remember spending more time coming up with excuses to why she’s worth it than why she isn’t

I remember believing the feels, sex, and alleged “happily ever after” was worth more than my time, freedom, and self respect

I remember cutting her out and her finding every way to claw her way back in

I remember her contrived letters, desperate apologies, and unconvincing regrets of her actions

I remember for the first time possessing power over a woman

I remember for the first time exercising power over a woman by saying “no”

I remember deciding no stranger, friend, or especially woman is ever worth that loss of personal dignity I freely offered in the past

I remember the act of choosing myself over that “happily ever after” wasn’t a popular, well-liked, or even easy decision to do in this day and age

I remember asking the question: “Are there any other men who have similar experiences and now choose themselves over women?”

I remember finding hidden brothers within the confines of the post-apocalyptic feminine desert of a wasteland we call now reality

I remember the sting of regret when I first realized my blood had been blue all this time

I remember the of glimmer of hope when I finally began to bleed red

Though most of all...

I remember the moment I stopped seeing women as honorable friends, intimate lovers, and eventual wives

And finally saw them for what they’d been all along: selfish children, sexual actors, and eventual divorcees

That women at their best are fun, youthful, and sexy

And women at their worst are insatiable, ruthless, and vindictive

I remember the last night I ever went to bed within their feminine illusion

And finally awoke to my first, unforgettable morning of our very own, yet long overdue

masculine future

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About Bancroft's Deep Appreciation of Women
The best satire isn't funny because it's grounded in the reality of truth, it's funny because people literally believe it.

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