where are you getting your stats? what source of information brought you to this conclusion? none I assume, but I would love for you to prove me wrong.
It’s literally a hyper link to the study
“Chamberlain and his team found that although overall divorce rates of couples with one seriously ill spouse were comparable to the general divorce rate in the US, there was a marked difference depending on which partner had received the diagnosis. In cases where the husband became seriously ill, divorce rates were actually far lower than average at three per cent. However, a staggering 21 per cent of wives who had been diagnosed with serious illness ended up separated or divorced within the same time frame.
In fact, Chamberlain’s study revealed that in ninety per cent of post-diagnosis divorce cases, the wife was the sick party. The researchers suggested that a possible explanation for this striking difference could be that men find it harder to take on a care-giving role.”
WHAT THE FUCK!?!? this is goddamn horrifying.
“Find it harder to take on a care-giving role.”
Bullshit.
They don’t want the burden of a sick wife who won’t be taking care of them. Like good ‘ol “sanctity of marriage” Newt Gingrich divorcing his wife who developed cancer.
I always want to point out that not abandoning your wife is the lowest possible bar, and husbands who don’t do it are unfortunately not necessarily supportive beyond this bare minimum—I once read a blog article by a guy who volunteered at a breast cancer resource centre (he was their first male volunteer, ever) and who wrote, about the boutique where the women tried on wigs:
Many clients came in with female family members or friends. These clients only came in with female family members or friends. During my two years at the center, I never once saw a client go into the boutique with a husband or male relative. I asked the staff about it. One manager said, “Same as the volunteers: guys won’t go near the wigs. Guys are wimps.” Sometimes a woman would come in for a wig… nervous, uncomfortable…and she’d get help from me or the staff, total strangers… and you could see her husband out in the parking lot… sitting in the car, listening to the radio; they couldn’t even come inside.
I’m also reminded of that study on organ donation rates across Europe, that found that among married hetero couples, 36% of women who could donate a kidney to their husband did so, while only 6.5% of clinically suitable men donate a kidney to their wives.
Men ain’t shit
My moms grandma or aunt or something was diagnosed with cancer back when cancer was basically a death sentence. She and her husband had a handful of kids and one of them had a mental disability.
One day she came home to find that her husband had hung himself. He’d left a note saying he didn’t want to have to take care of the kids all by himself once she was dead.
She ended up beating the cancer, raised the kids by herself, never re married, and died of natural causes in her 80’s or 90’s.
is refreshingly devoid of the usual man vs. man conflict, it is filled with conflict of other varieties, notably man vs. self (the contestants vs. their knowledge of baking) and man vs. nature (the contestants vs. the time limit)
Man vs. the forces of evil (the contestants vs. Paul Hollywood)
a) do you really think someone would put all that time and energy into making an infinity stone jewelry piece if they didn’t know all about the infinity stones
b) I don’t see you putting all that time and energy into making an infinity stone jewelry piece, what have you contributed lately besides being a dick to people for no reason
c) who gives a shit if you can’t name all the stones, you’re allowed to enjoy the shit you enjoy without some whiney ass loser quizzing you to the smallest detail
I will NEVER FORGET my first convention. A table was doing Transformers trivia and you could win a prize. The men in front of me were asked fairly difficult questions.
Then I rolled up. Dressed as Thrust because buttwings, damnit.
“Oh, we’ll go easy on you,” the dude said in the most condescending, smarmy tone. “Name one of the dinobots.”
I rattled all five off in alphabetical order, and demanded that they tell me all six Constructicons.
There were several guys at the table. They managed five.
“You forgot Bonecrusher,” I said sweetly and walked off. I didn’t want the prize I’d rightfully earned. Their spluttering was all I wanted.
If you’re gonna gatekeep, I’m gonna DESTROY YOU.
Great story BUT… You shouldn’t have to destroy them!!
You don’t have to love something in a ridiculously obsessive way that knows every tiny fucking detail for your love of it to bring you joy. If that’s how they get joy, cool, nice for them. But you don’t have to.
You can casually love a thing, cosplay as a thing, go to cons for a thing, without dissecting it into little pieces.
Women do not have to be exceptional in order to belong.
WOMEN DO NOT HAVE TO BE EXCEPTIONAL IN ORDER TO BELONG
A NOM!
INTO MY BELLY!
KIRBY CHOMP!
This is DELICIOUS!
MOAR!
I am a big fan of this growing my own garden of noms thing!