WHY WOMEN DON’T GO OUT WITH MEN ANYMORE?

If you are a woman you know it very well. How many women are raped every day? Lots of them. How many women are killed? Lots of them. Who does this? The men. How many men attack and offend women on social media? Too many. How much violence exists in groups of men who make fun of women? Too much. So why do men behave so badly and then wish women were willing to go out with them? What sees a woman around are violent, bullying, angry, aggressive, dangerous men. So why should a woman choose to risk her life with one of these dangerous subjects for her?
Love brings a lot of violence and in fact many women are killed by jealous men, angry boyfriends, betrayed husbands. So if a woman thinks of a man she imagines him sweet, caring, affectionate, kind, good. But then maybe he knows someone and what does he perceive from them? Anger, hatred, resentment, revenge, violence. So why on earth would he put his life on the line? Especially if a woman has children she does not want to bring home a probable offender or an alcoholic. So many women now don't want to go out with men anymore because they fear the worst and are afraid.

STORY OF THE BEST FRIENDS

I saw you again and I didn’t come to meet you. You were my best friend and now I don’t even know who you are anymore, I don’t know what you do, I don’t know if you’re engaged, I don’t know if you cry, I don’t know if you and your mother have made peace. We said goodbye in silence, when I greeted you I knew it would be for the last time. Nobody, you know, has ever said goodbye to me without my knowing it before, maybe I pretended not to, but I knew very well when the end had begun. It was with you when I told you that I had met a man and in the following months I have not cried for any quarrel I had with him. I didn’t call you to tell you he was a jerk, as he usually did. When you asked me how he was doing with him, I replied that it was okay, that for once, I had nothing to tell. I didn’t have the classic stories from “he didn’t call me and then I didn’t call him either and now we haven’t heard from each other for days”. It’s okay, I told you. It’s not possible, you replied. You believed that my good was also fiction, that I was lying to myself, that it was not me and I agreed with you “you will see that one day we would be here talking about it, about yet another man with mental disorders that I had”. But the days turn into months. And the months became twelve. And in that year I changed, changed for him you insinuated, my red hair had become blonde, my clothes were completely different. And instead, if we were still friends, you would have had proof of how wrong you were. You would have seen me buy six bottles of shower gel with the smell he hates, because it doesn’t matter, I like them. You would have seen me save money for a tattoo that he didn’t call too good. You would have known that when he told me he prefers blond I went to get myself a copper red tint. You would have known that I have a skirt that he defines as an old woman. I have always remained of the opinion that the best shopping you can do is with a friend. You never understood that he would never take your place. You did not understand that if they had asked me which “forever” I believed, I would have answered, without a doubt, between two friends and not between two boyfriends. I really believed in it when I told you that I wanted to share a house with you, so similar to me. And a thousand times I told you that if you wanted to talk over a coffee, Saturday would never be sacred to me. I would never have been the one of “I can’t on Saturdays” but “now we organize ourselves”. We had been friends for ten years and no man would ever replace that friendship. But you decided it wasn’t true and I have too much dignity to beg for love and friendship from a person who doesn’t want me anymore. And so gradually, our conversations became colder, almost circumstantial. I never looked for you and you did the same to me. The worst of clich├ęs. But I don’t forget and I will never be mad at you. I will be nostalgic. There have been too many good things between us to make me angry. There are calls that lasted hours, I was on my cell phone, I hate it, so much alone with you. There have been whole afternoons at the Castello Sforzesco, walking through the park in autumn, not knowing how to dress in spring, complaining about the heat and then watching the snow. For years, many years. I saw you cut your long hair into short and then regret it. I felt you tired with a job that took you all day and I was close to you when you were without a job and you felt sad. I saw you in love with a wrong man and I didn’t tell you anything, I waited for you to notice. I would have been there. We spent the New Year in a taxi because, as usual, we had made up our minds on what to do at the last minute. We spent another New Year among the people and the following New Year instead at your house watching movies. You were there when they told me on the phone that my fears were correct and that he was cheating on me. You saw me change, not a man, you saw me completely lost after my first relationship and then you saw me completely lucid and merciless at the umpteenth relationship gone bad. You were there with me in the disco and you were there when our evenings became quieter and the evening ended with an aperitif and it was no longer going on all night. It was you, not a man. No boyfriend would take your place. I didn’t come to meet you because I didn’t want to destroy what was left of you.

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