At first, you suspect that it’s not to be believed. So said Bird Dog atthe Maggie’s Farm blog. It feels like someone’s idea of a parody about men who pretend to be feminists. Besides, the internet has nothing more about the author Michael Sonmore than a reference to this article from New York Magazine.
So, either it’s a hoax or the author is so ashamed of his new status as cuckold that he has chosen to write under a pseudonym. Yet, for all we know he is telling his wife’s many lovers that they have nothing to fear from him. Without any help from a therapist Sonmore has rid his mind of all traces of jealousy, along with all traces of dignity and self-respect.
Besides, if he used his real name, the story would be online forever. Therefore it would likely have been found by his children and their friends when they get old enough to do internet searches.
Naturally, he wants us to know that sharing his wife with other men makes him a bona fide feminist:
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.
How did things get to this point? Well, Sonmore has withdrawn from the world of work, the world of manly competition, to become a househusband. For reasons that are readily understandable he still considers himself to be working and still sees himself to be a provider. He is not providing in the traditional manly sense, he explains, but he is providing care.
If he knew how to use the language and did not feel the need to distort it in order to cover up his shame, he would say that has been nurturing his young children.
For a man who insists that he is a feminist and who proudly dons the horns of the cuckold the notion that his housework affirms his masculine identity is risible… or, it would be, if it was not so sad:
In this way, my masculine self-image was stretched but not broken. Diaper bag notwithstanding, I was still a Man. 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.
Sonmore does not put it this way, but we do know, from other studies, that women tend not to find househusbands very desirable. That’s the underlying and unrecognized message here: Sonmore has been acting like such a weakling that his wife does not want to fuck him anymore. She does not put it this way, but surely this is the issue here.
Sonmore does not have a real choice. Since she is supporting the family, he has no choice but to acquiesce.
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.
It has nothing to do with keeping anyone in line. It has to do with sabotaging a sexual dynamic by playing the role reversal game.
Naturally, Sonmore has larded it all over with psychobabble, but the truth does shine through.