tl;dr Man is a loser cucked by numerous alphas who are banging out his wife every other night - his male hamster is spinning beyond light speed. His hamster is now spinning at ludicrous speed.
I could literally quote the entire thing but here's some of the more absurd lines that I will translate for you:
As I write this, my children are asleep in their room, Loretta Lynn is on the stereo, and my wife is out on a date with a man named Paulo. It’s her second date this week; her fourth this month so far. If it goes like the others, she’ll come home in the middle of the night, crawl into bed beside me, and tell me all about how she and Paulo had sex. I won’t explode with anger or seethe with resentment. I’ll tell her it’s a hot story and I’m glad she had fun. It’s hot because she’s excited, and I’m glad because I’m a feminist.
Paolo Thundercock just put my wife's pussy on blast and sent her home to me so I could smell the aftermath.
Before my wife started sleeping with other men, I certainly considered myself a feminist, but I really only understood it in the abstract.
Being a true male feminist requires the ultimate sacrifice of self respect and personal self worth. I am up to that task!!
When I quit working to stay at home with the kids, I began to understand it on a whole new level. I am an economically dependent househusband coping with the withering drudgery of child-rearing.
I am the ultimate example of Briffault's Law. I offer little benefit to my wife and now she is bullshitting me right to my face - auditioning other cock on a nightly basis to eventually swing to while keeping me as a live in nanny, servant and placekeeper - and I bought her line of bullshit hook line and sinker.
Mothers care; fathers provide care. The difference is crucial. Despite my total withdrawal from the economy and the traditional sources of masculine identity, I can still argue I am a provider. I provide care.
What mothers do is superior to what fathers do... Or something... But even though I'm a broke dick, completely dependent and subservient to my wife, I'm still manly enough for this marriage (except for the part where my wife wants to fuck other men).
It wasn’t until my wife mentioned one evening that she’d kissed another man and liked it and wanted to do more than kiss next time that I realized how my status as a Man depended on a single fact: that my wife fucked only me.
My rationalization hamster tells me that me not getting upset that - not only does my wife want to stray in the marriage, but knows I'm so much of a docile self-loathing male feminist faggot, she can boldly flaunt it in my face like she was serving me pudding - means that I have self esteem... Yeah that's the ticket...
When people ask how it started, I say this: We married young. She’d had sex before me, but only with a handful of people a handful of times. She never had a boyfriend, never had a lover. I was the first man she ever had the chance to get to know intimately.
Best case scenario - she's mad she never got a chance to fully experience the cock carousel and now wants to ride. Worst case scenario, she was a such a whore nobody wanted to get serious beyond wham bam thank you m'aam - and found my beta ass to stupidly buy what everyone else got for free. Either way, she's bored now and is readying herself to better deal my ass.
She didn’t present it as an issue of feminism to me, but after much soul-searching about why the idea of my wife having sex with other men bothered me I came to a few conclusions: Monogamy meant I controlled her sexual expression, and, not to get all women’s-studies major about it, patriarchal oppression essentially boils down to a man’s fear that a woman with sexual agency is a woman he can’t control. We aren’t afraid of their intellect or their spirit or their ability to bear children. We are afraid that when it comes time for sex, they won’t choose us. This petty fear has led us as a culture to place judgments on the entire spectrum of female sexual expression: If a woman likes sex, she’s a whore and a slut; if she only likes sex with her husband or boyfriend, she’s boring and lame; if she doesn’t like sex at all, she’s frigid and unfeeling. Every option is a trap.
A trap I fell for completely. She's out fucking different men and I'm stuck at home being her bitch until she eventually tires of the current arrangement.
Feminism always comes back to sex, even when we’re talking about everything else.
I'm so close to self awareness, but yet so far.
Whatever power I surrendered, I don’t miss.
I can't wrap my head around what kind of train wreck life I'm living - or what eventual destruction this is leading to.
It does work both ways and, yes, I too enjoy sexual carte blanche. I just don’t use mine as much as my wife uses hers. What’s important is equality of opportunity, not outcome.
She gets banged out on the regular, me not so much - barely ever really (as predicted by TRP). But I've rationalized that too.
The sex is the easy part, the fun part. It’s what the sex connects to, stands for, reveals that can be difficult. I don’t want her to fall in love with anyone else, and every time she goes on a date, I confront the possibility that she might. It happened at the beginning: The first person she dated after we opened up fell hard in love with her, and my wife, overwhelmed by his ardor, tried to love him back. Watching it happen, I was confused, angry, and terrified that she wanted to leave me. She assured me she didn’t, and whatever feelings she had for him didn’t lessen what she felt for me. Believing her then was the ultimate trust exercise. We survived because eventually I did believe her, and also because I learned to trust myself.
I almost got bounced and didn't learn that HOLY FUCK I'M PLAYING WITH FIRE HERE. I escaped only because the kids were very young, but that won't last forever and I won't escape the next episode. Its an eventuality. I continue to refuse to accept the reality of my situation.
From everywhere comes the message that what I’m doing is for weaklings, losers, failures, pussies; that if I had money and status, I could keep my wife “in line”; that her self-discovery comes at the expense of my self-esteem. My open marriage has made heavy demands on my ability to silence the voice of doubt in my head, that gnawing feeling of worthlessness. But I find I can meet those demands, and that I am able to build my self-confidence out of nothing more than the basic dignity we all possess. I’m grateful to my wife for pushing us to take this leap, and whatever happens to us in the future I would do it all again. And when she comes home tonight and crawls into bed beside me with a hot story about her date with Paulo, she’ll do it all again, too.
I'm grateful my wife is fucking other dudes 2-3 time a week. I'm a hopeless faggot suffering from Stockholm syndrome. Please kill me now.
I think the lesson here is obvious. Feminism is a sexual strategy and especially 3rd wave radical feminism is the AF/BB strategy in the extreme. It only serves to pander to womyns whims no matter how decadently perverse and/or selfish.
Being a male feminist is as this beta idiot has unwittingly admitted is a complete surrender to the imperative. Its utter subservience and capitulation.
Edited: A few misspelled words