To rip off Frost, the manosphere has been getting in touch with its feelings lately. Maybe it’s the onset of Autumn or maybe we’ve been collectively lax about wearing our tinfoil helmets just as the government has ramped up the frequency of the mind-control digital estrogen rays. What else could explain Donlak’s article on marriage?
Inevitably, the conversation veered toward the question of the times — Does marriage offer men any benefits whatsoever. I’m still assembling my theory on the matter, but Dagonet offers an outline for one possible answer.
However, if you are willing to sacrifice the constant spinning of plates, you will find a deeper joy from a period of monogamy– not due to the “amazing” woman you’ve committed to, but due to your ability to live your life in a completely straightforward, fully present way. No skeletons in your closet. Of course, you still need to “game” her and be mysterious in some ways, keep her chasing you, etc. But after being George Glass and juggling many girls for an extended period of time, settling down and being You in a more complete sense can be very rejuvenating.
Obviously, Dagonet is not advocating marriage. He’s not advocating anything even closely resembling marriage. The takeaway from the quote is found in the esoteric — the opportunity to be a relaxed man in full. Perhaps seeking a logical and rational reason for a wholly illogical desire is alchemy. Perhaps that energy could be better spent in service of our irrational desires, in keeping them contained and enjoyed on our own terms.
I don’t love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things
are loved, secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom and carries
hidden within itself the light of those flowers,
and thanks to your love, darkly in my body
lives the dense fragrance that rises from the earth.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you simply, without problems or pride:
I love you in this way because I don’t know any other way of loving
but this, in which there is no I or you,
so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand,
so intimate that when I fall asleep it is your eyes that close. – Pablo Neruda “XVII Sonnet”