What Does A Woman Want Vox Popoli? Part II

Nobody’s Opinion: What does a woman want?

Well, I have to start off with Vox, Mr. Popoli.

Before I even know what a Vox Popoli was, I remember reading something by him on his blog.

He was talking about what a man really wants in a woman, and if I remember right, he had come to the conclusion that the most important thing for a man (besides of course that the woman be attractive) was complete support for him, and everything he did in life, whether it was for her, or for humanity.

The man wants to be appreciated.

Well, guess what, I thought, so does a woman. Go figure. How are we going to work this out?

Vox of course, being the genius that he is, and more than that, knows he is, wants a cacciatore of a woman, but, in the end, the vision of himself protecting HER is the vision he wishes most for his own confidence.

Vox is the knight in shining armor and he wants a lady who appreciates this fact.

Let’s just say, whether this is genetic, cultural, or a combination, it’s the measure of a man’s worth. At least that’s what I thought I remembered what he was trying to say.

But, what does the woman want? And is it as important as a man desires?

Who causes more harm…the man or the woman? Who is capable of more evil?

Many a scientist, psychologist, sociologist, talk show host, blogger, and lunch room lady have argued over this very thing. In fact, the day they stop arguing is the day we should all worry.

If life was that simple, we might all be bored to death. Comedians would have no material.

Being as I, as a woman, have only had one really close relationship with another woman, and that was my mother, I can only look back on my own life and reflect…What had I always longed for?

I hate to say it, but I was looking for love. Yep.

But right after thinking that, my heart went into that dark strange place you don’t want to go…and that’s painful memories.

After having my share of painful memories in life, the best thing to do, is to forget them, don’t even go there....put up a big red stop sign, you FOOL!

Nevertheless there is a memory of mine that sticks to the subject of what a man wants-- a woman wants also.

My first thought (And you know how they say always trust your first thought) went back to myself being reeled down a long, brightly lit hall on a gurney. I was drugged, I was scared. I was in a hospital.

It was around six in the morning, and I had gone into labor at six months, because my first husband had had a huge fight with my father, and I got so upset about it, I went directly into labor. It was my first child.

I had a condition called placenta previa, which basically means the placenta is attached very low in the womb, and the baby and the mother can both hemorrhage during birth, and die.

I don’t know what caused this, but I do remember when I was 3 months pregnant, my husband had insisted we go on a boat ride on a lake, and he took that boat up to 103 miles for over an hour, even though I was bouncing around in the back. He was going so fast, he broke the motor. We sat for 4 hours in the middle of a lake waiting to be rescued in the heat. I’m sure that didn’t help.

I don’t think I ever got off the metal bottom. They had to peel me off.

I bet every time someone rents that little boat, they say, "Hey, what's that stain?"

Because of my “condition” my husband was told NOT to fight with me, and I was to be very careful. But that didn’t stop him from attacking my father viciously about an actual compliment my father had said about his brother one night.

My father said, after meeting my husband’s brother for the first time:

“Gary is such a nice young man, it seems to me he has much more potential for being more than just a mechanic.”

If you had known my dad, it was a compliment, hardly the insult my husband had taken it for. Hardly worth two hours of yelling and screaming at my father. And because I couldn’t get him to stop the attacks, I went into labor.

I was taken to the hospital by my parents. My gynecologist had already been up 36 hours, and had to do an emergency caesarian.

I remember the nurse asking me, when I was reeled into the operating room, “What do you want?” she said, " A boy or a girl?"

“Oh…I don’t care; I just want a healthy baby” I said.

At that moment in time, nothing in the world mattered more.

Man protects the woman, woman protects the child. (With most of the people, let’s stay on a bell curve here.)

We all know both sexes have good and bad potatoes heads.

Of course, my baby wasn’t healthy; he had hyaline membrane disease which means his lungs weren’t developed.

As soon as he was bought out, I had just enough time to say..."Hello Brett” (my arms were tied down so I couldn’t hold him) and they took off with him.

His little chest was heaving up and down. When they bought him into my room the next day to transfer him miles away to a children’s hospital, because he was in an incubator, I couldn’t even hold him.

That was torture.

It was a shock for me to see him so sick, but with sixteen doctors and nurses in the room, who were all routing for him I said “Now, you be a good boy and do what the doctor’s say. I will see you real soon.”

Pretty silly I know, but in times of severe stress, you must have hope.

The point here is, since my son was so far away, it was I who needed support. But my husband was not there.

Oh, he came once a day to see me and stayed all of an hour, but he spent most of his time with his family. I wasn’t released for three days, and when we got to the hospital, it took me an hour just to walk from the parking lot to the care unit, but I wanted to see my son. Nothing was more important ever in my life.

If you’ve ever had a sick child, you know what I’m talking about.

But, when we got to neo-natal unit, only one parent could enter with a visitor at a time. My husband went in first, because he wanted his father to see the boy’s family jewels.

Excuse me---call me a stuck-up whatever for thinking I should have the right to go and see my sick son, but I felt it was my right to go in first.

Because I happened to think that the miracle that had just been born was more than a reason for two grown men to gawk and feel good about themselves comparing family genitals---I was completely humiliated, not only that, I was hurt beyond even comprehending that my husband thought so little of me that he put himself first.

Now, just think. This is how half of the world’s women feel most of the time. Think of all the Muslim women who are treated like…well, like fodder. This is Patriarchy at its worst.

It makes feminism look like a kindergarten class.

Anyway---there I was, in the most extreme emotional pain. I went into the bathroom and broke down.

To have to lie in bed for days, not knowing if my baby was going to live or die, and then to finally get to see him, and to be made to wait a half hour or more so that my husband could show off to his dad. (Who by the way had already seen the child.) Was not exactly a moment to remember.

To some of you, this might seem very trivial. But my point is women need support, just like men. And sometimes we remember the little scars more than the big ones.

I remember going to see Tom Baker once. (The first Doctor Who) He said something I have never forgotten. He said that he knew an actor on the stage, that could literally break you heart with just the simple twist of his head.

Life is filled with these little twisting, aren’t they?

God took that man out of my life. He just left one day. He didn’t want to see his son. He was angry, like a lot of men. You see, men were complaining at that time about child support. It’s nothing new.

He got a good lawyer, and got the divorce put off for three years. When we finally got into the courtroom the judge looked at me and asked,

“Miss, do you think that this settlement is fair? He gets $13,000 and the new car, and you get $1,000 and the old van? (Which was mine before I met him, and had no heater.)

Many a cold journey my little baby and I made in that van.

“No.” I said.

“I’m throwing this case out; get yourself a new lawyer lady.”

I had to wait another two years. I now owed two lawyers. (And no, I did not get that money back.)

My x ended up with a car, and $13,000. And no responsibility towards his son’s life at all. I got 1,000, and had the car, and the boy. There was no house to split.

You see, we had lived with my parents, we paid no rent. They were trying to help us out. Even so, he broke into the house and stole as much as he could carry. (Mostly expensive stereo equipment)

My father never pressed charges due to my son.

When I met my first husband, I was making more money than him. I had a nice savings account, he had none.

I established his credit, I paid off his bills. (Around $15,000) I had put his name on my savings account because he had none. (Of course, he got half in the divorce) I had to pay off all outstanding credit cards, even though he was at the time of the divorce making twice as much as me.

My father signed his first car loan, because his credit was so bad. He even bailed him out of jail, twice.

Now, maybe I didn’t lose a house, and the kids. But he got off pretty good. He was supposed to pay half the medical expenses. (Not a dime was ever given and there were many, over $30,000 worth.)

He was suppose to take out a life insurance policy on thee boy. Never did. He disappeared.

I let it go.

I found out later he had a bad crack addiction. He liked to hang around young fifteen year old boys. He was manipulative. He was mean. And even though he did not beat me, I think he might have killed me, for just being my opinionated self if he hadn’t of left.

Looking back, I think he got married to get a promotion in his job.

The damage he did to my son was irrefutable.

I’ve been reading the MND blogs…some of them are very esoteric. Some of them seem nugacious.

Its funny... men go into battle in war. They get wounded; they get their feet blown off, but get up and go back. They are brave, tough, and courageous beyond human levels.

But if they get hurt by a relationship, they can fall apart like china breaking; women see that they are not so tough.

Life, is as we all know, unfair.

Just yesterday I was reading one of my favorite columnists on Townhall.com, Thomas Sowell.

I just love Thomas Sowell. I look for things to disagree with him on, but I can never find a thing. I wish he would make a mistake of logic, just once. But, he never does.

Anyway, he had this to say:

“Women’s Liberation and the “sexual revolution” have not liberated women. They have liberated the sort of man, who is a “love & leave ‘em’ kind of guy,” who lets the woman deal with the consequences, including pregnancy.”

Anyway, that pretty much sums it up for me. If the men have suffered, then so have the women.

For every man who's been blasted and taken to the cleaners by a woman, there is a woman who was left alone, sometimes wondering how in the world she was going to fed the kids, get home, clean the house, do all the chores, find a baby sitter..and have some kind of life for herself outside of it all.

I was one of those women, and have all the scars to prove it.

So Vox Popoli, this nobody asks…what do you think a woman wants?

Do you know?

Nobody Perfect: This was just a rant tonight. I still want to read all the blogs by all the guys. But, my husband is still recovering from back surgery, and it’s MY turn to support him.

Nobody’s Knows: Oscar Levant once said, “I’m a study of a man in chaos in search of frenzy.”

I’d say that pretty much sums up all relationships.

Nobody Cares; Oscar Wilde once said “All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That’s his.”

Hey---he said it, not me.

Nobody Gives A Hint: Listen to: "To Love A Woman" by Bryan Adams. It's a good place to start.