“She’s got a smile that heals me…”






I still recall laying in bed.


Watching her dress in my bathroom.


Looking at her in her jeans and bra.


Doing her make up in the mirror.


Even now, after her cheating, betrayal and madness—


I still recall every supple curve, every flash of those bright eyes and every in-joke we shared.


Restaurants and bar excursions; amazing sex and root beer floats.


Most of all, I remember how she’d make coming home – from my miserable, frustrating government job of selling my dying country in broken pieces – the best thing that had ever happened to a poor kid from (literally) the wrong side of the tracks.




She was also the woman that absolutely razed every single belief I had to scorched rubble.


She pushed me onto the long-road suicide attempt that caused another woman to give me the nom de guerre I employ on Twitter (including its abbreviated form among select friends) ► Whiskey & Ashes ◄ and landed me here, in our corner of the ‘net.


Yet, there was another thing she did that was equally powerful.




Although she left me – tears streaming down my face – on the roadside, wearing a suit, awaiting my attorney to take me to fight my dismissal from government service…


She left this poor kid for other women to pick back up.


To show me there was still a life worth living.


To help me heal.


To laugh again.


To realize, like everything in life, there’s good and bad.


That fire cooks as well as burns.


Truth be told, that was the biggest irony.




See, I’d had infinitely more success with women after her than I’d ever had prior to her (and I did well enough for myself).


She taught me that women will put you in the gutter faster than anything.


But fish you out just as quickly— often quicker.


Losing my polish and revealing my rough edges only served to have more women latch onto me, oddly enough.


And bless me with their kindness.


Sure, she broke me.


But her sex [gender] saved me, too.





Many have come and gone since her.


To be honest, I’ve loved every one of them.


They were good girls, each in their own way.


My relationships became healthier than they’d ever been.


Because now I knew women were just people, too.


Struggling to get by.


Why do you think I do this?




I hate women the same way a food critic hates food, a film critic hates film and music critic hates music.


In short: I don’t.


In fact, I can’t think of any [earthly] thing I love more.


I just don’t pretend women are flawless.




Now, I can only speak from my experience, but it speaks pretty damn loudly.


And it tells me that there is something encoded deep within men.


That we’ll never see depths of Hell without women.


But we’ll never really see the heights of Heaven, either.


As, God rest his soul, the Private Man used to say:


Feminism liberated men, not women.


To which I add:


Lamentably, the freedom thus granted scares and confuses the life out of men since they (at a deep, unconscious and likely genetic) level, have no idea what to do with it.


I’d argue that’s the plague from which so many men suffer, these days.


A soul-rending hole that previous male generations never had.


In fact, that’s why I’m always banging on about learning to love and respect yourself as men.


So you can live with or without women, seeing as the good ones continue to be scarce.




However, there’s something about the right (for you) kind of woman in your life that will keep you going like nothing else ever could.


Something that makes dark times, shit jobs and shittier days manageable.


I flatter myself I’m a good writer.


But I’d be a fool to think I could articulate it.


Let’s just say a good woman is like a second wind during an exhausting marathon.


Or akin to getting into your house from the car just before the heavy rain starts falling.


Or simply a well timed and hearty laugh at gallows humor.


I’m sure it’s a feature, not a bug.




Look, if you want to go MGTOW, I completely understand.




If anyone has right and reason to do so, it’s me; I’ve paid enough dues to march my way to the front of that line.


But I don’t.


And won’t.


Because, although I’d never have fallen without her.


I’d also never have soared.








11 Responses to ““She’s got a smile that heals me…””

  1. john smith Says:

    Embraced in the ethereal realm God intended to be the joining of a man and a woman, holding her hand upon the highest of mountain tops, gazing upon the glory of it all and the glory of us.

    I awakened, holding hands with a chimera of my dreams. She was downstairs rifling through my checkbook.

    MGTOW is the actual chimera recognition of their evil existence on this earth and the freedom to escape the false dream promised and betrayed. Cheers from reality and how it truely is.

    • Cheers, John.

    • Been there, John. Twice. I was a real know-it-all and a very slow learner.

      The reality of women was something commonly known even in Biblical times. When men had total control of that aspect of life it was fairly safe to be a bit naive. Nobody bothered to put up the ‘Bridge Out’ sign, sadly, though we’re trying to do that now.

      This current arrangement will certainly not survive; it’s not the first time in history mankind has had to re-learn old lessons.

      So really I don’t think anyone on this forum isn’t, in a sense, MGTOW. There are things we know that we didn’t before, and things we simply will not accept anymore. We can’t go back to the old ignorance anyway. So even if one isn’t deliberately “going his own way”, he still isn’t going THAT way.

      Blessings friend.

  2. I’ll never go MGTOW. Even if I had earned it (I haven’t), I couldn’t.

    I’m sure I need a woman in my life. I’m okay with that.

    Hell, I wouldn’t have gotten to where I was without my own Mother. The first women I loved, and always will. She’s one of the first women who I learned was not perfect, because like my Father, I didn’t think she had any flaws for the first 16 or 18 years of my life. Even still, learning about her flaws was one of the best things that has happened to me. Because seeing both the good and the bad I was able to realize how good I had it.

    It’s an enduring, cold comfort that I started to truly appreciate her flaws and all before April 2015 when she had a stroke in England. It saved me many nights against the wall with just a bottle and my prayers for forgiveness for company.

    *Takes a break from comment*

    Just like Silvanus says:

    “Don’t resist the backwards steps, when they occur.

    They’re merely creating distance to take a run up at the next level.”

    I don’t enjoy the lows women contribute to. I’m going through one right now. It’s ironic to me that it’s been coming for a week but I’m only really feeling it after my professional situation’s improved enough for me to care about anything else.

    I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t say yes if offered the ability to remove those lows from my life. But I suspect after months I’d feel like something was missing. Maybe I wouldn’t feel bad, but I’d probably not enjoy the best parts of my life as much….

    Forget it. Between really enjoying your post contrasted with the pain I feel (an old one that I’m half responsible for), I find myself trying to right to sound good and profound rather than just right. Similar to how that girl I told you about would see that in my eyes trying to think of how to say what I wanted to say rather than just say it.
    So here goes

    When I was in college, despite learning a lot of things the hard way, I generally felt that I was going to be okay and life on average was good. Why did I feel this way?

    Because I thought I knew my life’s mission and because I knew what job I wanted when I got my degree and knew that I’d get it.

    The right woman has the same effect. Only two to three times stronger. If I’m not in for a round of self-sabotage, it’s even more than that.
    The thought of the first woman I was infatuated with distracted my legs from the strain of running 10 miles twice a week in highschool.

    The thought of another woman made the first three months of the “ratline” where I was told I was a piece of shit for six months fly by with barely a peep.

    The thought of a third woman made me feel invincible and on top of the world until my own delusions betrayed me for the first time.

    When that ended…when I really truly what I passed up…it took another girl to get me to reliably think of something else whenever I had a spare moment alone with my thoughts. Often because when I started seeing her I never felt alone and consequently maybe I never was.

    Anyway – I’m rambling enough.

    Great post, all my best.


    • For better or worse Wald, they’re our Muses.

      I was in a real funk for the past few days. Exercised once or twice; gave into some fast food being passed around. Not much sleep.

      Yesterday I missed a turn so wheeled into a park to get turned around. Two cuties out dog-walking were sitting in the open hatch of an SUV, resting their pets and obviously having a good day.

      They both waved in unison, big giddy smiles on their faces, as I idled by talking on the phone. Couldn’t help but smile and wave back. I just … liked it. It made me feel … better.

      I was back on the treadmill last night. Threw out the leftover fast food and ate a steak. Something about women that makes men like being men. It’s almost, like, Nature or something eh?

      Cheers buddy.

  3. I love this one.

  4. This hard-won knowledge about women and love in some ways is like that moment when an airliner breaks above the clouds at night.

    The stars shine more vividly. The moon looks twice as big. It’s so clear you can even see other planes in the distance, going wherever they’re going. It’s beautiful; you realize there are thousands of people up here with you, at two in the morning, sharing this experience.

    … and it’s a fucking long way down if anything goes wrong.

    But if I like the deal, I’m still gonna buy a seat.

  5. Sutton Coldfield Says:

    I am unendingly amused that this post’s card was the Queen of Clubs.

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