Dames.

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I was just thinking... mothers, sisters, daughters in time, loves and lovers, they all share a certain aspect.  A meanness that is ruthless.  It is a bit of a test for men.  If they won't cross that, the woman knows the man will either become a lapdog type or won't even be worth that.  He can be turned into a drone.  Those who cross it, cancel it, and don't miss a beat?  That is how men are measured in a woman's world.  If he can do it without violence, that's the golden boy, with violence he is the bad boy, perhaps there are other rankings.  I doubt if women even realize they are doing the testing, or know, consciously, the results.  They just "do", and then work on what remains.

Women have to test.  They, before doctors/medicine took over fitness testing, women did that work.  And, if a man fell ill, and was't likely to recover, unless he had means... such as stored wealth he still controlled well, or thick family lines which still loved him, they would put him down.  The testing isn't just for that... limited resource use, but also for breeding.  Women only want the very best, more so that their kids have a chance at more, or better, or simply a real chance at survival.

Until my health improved, I didn't realize that even my mother was doing this.  All women, kin or not, take jabs at testing a man, if they get the opportunity.  Now that I am well, and realize some things, I have been understanding that my mother isn't "just a "b...."", but is testing.  They do it by nature.  I... have been treating that differently, now that I realize.  Oh, I knew it with other women, just didn't realize that was her gig too.  Of course, they... can end up crying.  But this is good for them.  They have that as an outlet, for a reason.  Once cleared, they are right as rain and have the data they were seeking.  I think, finally, she is believing some of my story, now that I have come, to some degree, back into my rights.  She knows, if not true, it could have been.  As good as it can get unless she had been there, I think.  Yeah... there is music for that.

Of course, to that I say

The song they played in the store the other day, it too fits.  Yeah, they aren't the only strange birds, I suppose.  But if they played it, to see if it was really me, and more in appreciation?  Maybe that isn't all bad.  Later.