Yes, I went there and for good reason and I know I’ll probably get grief for this but, I’m older and I can say it because I have lived it. You cannot have a bad man without a stupid woman. Typically, stupid women come in the form of sisters, mothers or a woman related to the bad man. We excuse their behavior which gives them the “okay” to continue their bad behavior.

Other stupid women are those who date bad men, allowing themselves to be used to the point of being relegated to subhuman treatment. These women excuse their behavior and that of the man to save face, thus perpetuating the behavior, over and over again until the man – to recite the words of Bill Withers – keeps on using them until he’s used them up.

Then there are the women like I used to be, closeted, and needing a man to keep my closet door shut tight and snug. We do not have a vested interest in men sans our need to stay closeted. As a result, we use men, constantly challenge them, learn and prey on their fears for control and we can be quite abusive. Thus, we represent yet another form of the stupid woman who can be credited for creating bad men. This is why I believe gay folk should just come out of their closets. We need to keep drama to a low roar.

Being the closeted lesbian with no vested interest in men, I listened and learned about bad behavior and insecurity. Because I had no real interest, dating men became a game allowing me to learn every trick, game, and crazy excuse he could use and afterward, it did not matter how the trick or game was played or what color the game was painted, I could smell it a mile away.

I was particularly entertained by married men. I likened them to the “Glad Man” looking for “Ms. Saran Wrap” – plastic, see through types, lacking in substance and typically very insecure. First, they attempted to engage me in the lively art of conversation and through the words they chose to use I could tell they were not single or very married. Second, after asking the same question 14 different ways, “Mr. Married” never realized he, in fact, answered the “I’m married” question. After bringing up the wife, “Mr. Married” would then offer up “she’s married but I’m not” or “we married for the kid” or “we’ve drifted apart” or simply “yes, I’m married. Does it make a difference?” Yes, all very entertaining and quite ridiculous.

After playing the game of feigned dismissal, I would often hear how wonderful he is, how much money he has, what he likes doing like taking these fancy trips to who knows where, how he treats “his women” or some such nonsense. Oh dear, “insecurity, party of one” has arrived.

Back in the not-so-good old days, women were concerned about meeting, dating and becoming intimate with married men. They did not want that scarlet letter “A” dangled around their necks and took every measure possible to ensure the men in their lives were not hitched. I’ll never forget one woman’s tale of disappointment when she discovered the man in her life was still married to his wife. She was devastated and broke off the relationship. Now, many women don’t care and some of these women actually believe these men will leave their wives for them. Really? Stupid women. My one question is this, if he fooled around on his wife, what makes you think he won’t fool around on you? Stupid women.

Now, Tiger Woods. I’m sorry but he’s a trapper, not a hunter. Insecurity is plastered across his body and face like a bad tattoo. What did anyone expect? He has so many handlers and he is defined by golf, not by who he is as a man. He is Tiger Woods the “phenom” or Tiger Woods the magnificent golfer but who is Tiger Woods really? Does he even know?

When Mr. Woods married, I thought then it would not last. Why? He was not ready for such a grown up sport. Now he has a child, oh Lord help us. In our society, we do not allow people to become whoever or whatever they are. We push them to become visions of what we want them to be, not who they are. Tiger was pushed to be a great golfer, a great humanitarian, but he was never allowed to be human, to find his way, to know himself. I’m surprised dozens of women have not come out of his bedroom closet.

Unfortunately, he now has a bunch of stupid women coming out of their closets selling him and information about him like he’s a two bit whore. Worse, the man who doesn’t know himself cannot respond because he lacks the wherewithal to do so. He hasn’t quite matured in that area either and yet we expect he should. What a shame.

Unfortunately, a lot of men – pick your color – do not grow up with great role models. If they do, they are the lucky ones. We lay out for them caricatures of what a man should be; often it’s how to be the Glad Man. The examples offered often lack substance and typically, when parked at a movie house or in front of the television, the examples are one-dimensional, hyper testosterone types. Worse, we tell them – as single mothers – that men are supposed to be this way or that way and again, the examples lack substance because it’s not in front of them. They cannot see it, they cannot touch it, it is unreal and perhaps, unrealistic.

What men actually end up with in their lives are their fathers – if they are in the home – which may or may not be great role models. They may be cheaters themselves, insecure types or the hyper-testosterone types who are often the do as I say not as I do men. Then there are the men, those handlers, around Tiger who made it possible for Tiger to cheat, perhaps they were most encouraging of Tiger’s behavior these so-called great male role models. And of course, there will always be the stupid women who allow such bad behavior and will then – if possible – turn around to criticize the man or worse, sell him and his personal life for a buck when they were equally complicit.

I feel bad for Tiger, his wife and of course the child who may – if they divorce – be raised by a single and perhaps bitter mother. We do so need more children like that in the world.

Marriage, for me is great fodder. It used to be two responsible adults got married and raised a family. Now it’s about the “Glad Man” looking for “Ms. Saran Wrap” (or Barbie) to be his arm candy, who will then give birth to a beautiful baby that will serve as their “mini-me” and they too will control the child like they control their little selfish lives. When one doesn’t do what the other wants, the little “mini-me” will be used against the other. Then they’ll divorce with bitterness. What a grand affair.

Marriage is a commitment. It is not two people coming together with the belief they can still live their little selfish lives together. No. It’s about Ms. Woods getting into her husband and not shopping sprees with friends (I’m making that up folks) and Mr. Woods, literally, getting into his wife and not screwing anything not nailed down (if the stories are true). The two become one.

If you don’t know who you are, don’t get married. If you lack problem solving skills, the wherewithal to get it together, or you wish to maintain your silly little selfish life forever, don’t get married. And to those stupid women who believe they can change a man, will get pregnant in order to keep a man, or will do anything to keep and hold a man, get over your fantasies about life and your delusions of grandeur. He ain’t ready and neither are you.

Stupid women raise stupid women as well as in mothers who encourage their daughters to marry men because the men are wealthy. How stupid is that? I’m sure mom saw insecurity plastered across the man like a bad tattoo as well but, oh well, he’s rich. Oh My God!!! “Oh, that’s okay honey, take him to the cleaners.” What, you’re raising your girls to be prostitutes or something? Yes, let’s marry for money and let’s kill ‘em off for money. Geez, and yes, I’m cynical.

Finally, I am not amused by the jokes of Tiger’s wife beating him with a golf club. That is not funny and is it true? How do you know? You see, we’re back to making up things about a person based on what we want to believe and not what is true. Yes, she apparently broke out a few windows with a golf club but did she hit her husband with the club? Who knows and if she did, it ain’t funny. It’s called spousal abuse and assault.

I am thankful for being in the fall of my days. I can look back and laugh at some of my own failings and youthful passions. C’est si bon.