Woman’s vs Man’s Perspective

I got an email link to this page. The subject is tackling spring home improvement projects.

No surprise, here are some of the visual aids:


The woman’s perspective




The man’s perspective




If the fence behind the woman was white and her dress all white, if there was white snow and white steam coming from the cup as she gripped it with both hands….well then, that would be an advert.

Scholarly recognition of the empathogasm

Here (for expedience, start at 50 seconds and watch for half a minute) you can watch an animated video where Yale Professor (and psychologist) Paul Bloom recognizes the phenomenon that I call the empathogasm. What I call empathogasm he describes as “a little rush”. Those who chase the rush he refers to as warm glow altruists. I like it. Wish I’d have thought of it.

What he has done is speak to the amalgam of The Lift and The Empathogasm, with the caveat that his rush is not necessarily tied to a specific gender. As you know if you’ve read more than a couple of posts here, I ascribe empathogasms only to women.

I think we are both right. Men may, as he claims sans gender reference,  get little rushes when they make small donations to many charities…”I’m helping the blind babies, now I’m helping the down trodden worker”…so forth. These little rushes pale in comparison to the Lift the man gets when he wears these donations on the sleeves he puts on around women, both intimates and strangers, both IRL and on social media.

This leaves the matter essentially as I had it.

Women, motivated by a desire to believe themselves to possess empathetic super powers, will bend space, time, and all reality to the singularity of achieving the ultimate empathetic experience. The empathogasm.

Men, motivated by sex drive and misguided by residual blue pill not yet metabolized and excreted, will surround themselves with declarations of their own altruism, so much so that principle goes out the window (see Dalrock’s posts here and here) as they seek to achieve the good-not-great placebo for long term falling short of  orgasm….The Lift …in the hopes that the Lifts and Lift givers become like references on a resume. Maybe some woman will see how all these Lift giving women love him, and maybe it’ll help him get an actual orgasm. At a minimum he believes he has grown his opportunities.



C’mon Trump, Itz gurlz hooz dooz it

When Donald Trump says a woman who gets an abortion should face some kind of punishment he is forced to walk the comment back. He walks it back by making the line in the sand become the punishment of the person performing the abortion.

Set Trump aside…please…my post has nothing to do with being for or against Trump. It has to do with the ninnies yammering about how we could never punish a woman for breaking the law in that way. Ostensibly pro-life so called conservatives who stridently claim to champion the life of the unborn show that they simply are not serious when they then rush to be clear that it doesn’t mean there is any punishment due a woman who chooses to abort her baby. It is mean old doctors who kill babies. But there is no complicity possible in this crime. Even the person who literally carries the victim into the special place where the killer will ply his trade is not culpable by being complicit.  .

Since there were no stipulations made its a fair point to question who gets prosecuted in a morning after pill scenario. Its OK to abort at a day old. Anyone give me two days? Best fit here is some line about how we’ve established what she is and are now haggling the price.

If a man or woman doctor shops for opiate pain medication and the patient is caught, the patient is prosecuted and the doctors involved can be prosecuted or professionally reprimanded. Doctor shopping for pain meds is a crime that patients commit and for which they are prosecuted.

Doctor shopping for a doctor willing to abort a child, then aborting the child,  well not so much. Cuz itz gurlz hooz dooz it.

Red Pills in the Easter Basket

This Easter is temporally juxtaposed with dying


None of this is about me so forgive the awkward wording when I state that I have two men  in my immediate sphere that may not see Resurrection Sunday from their place on this mortal coil. One is a friend, just a couple of years older than me, and the other is my father in law, who, when I first met him nearly 30 years ago, was the age that the aforementioned friend is now.

The Friend

In the Late 80’s I worked in the energy business in Dallas. My employer was a Belgian oil company with a midsized American presence. There were refineries, petrochemical plants, and high concentrations of retail gasoline/convenience store outlets in certain U.S. cities. Like Dallas. The company had a quirky bragging right due to the HQ building appearing in the canned video sequence that opened every episode of the TV show Dallas.

It was not my first job. They recruited me from another local petchem company. When I started I naturally gravitated to similar aged engineers to make friends and learn the ropes. Nick and Jason (not real names) were the business development guys. Nick was an accountant and Jason a Chemical Engineer like me. The three of us were comfortable together quickly and became fast friends.




A few years later Jason left the company and moved to Houston to work as a speculator trading petrochems. Nick stayed and moved progressively up the ladder in various commercial jobs at the Dallas based oil company.

I left Dallas a couple of years later, providentially going to Houston as well and replacing Jason at the petrochem trading company. Jason moved on to build his own businesses as well as to take a position as a director in a major commodity chemical producing company. He holds that job still today, and I buy his commodity from his company. He and I have always had business together.

Jason hosts a fishing trip in South Louisiana near Lake Charles each October. He has for 18 years. Because I am a customer I often accept the invite. I did last fall. When I arrived I found Nick was also included and was my roommate for the few days we’d be there. Like summer camp he and I would lay awake a bit and catch up on life. Where are the kids in college? How is your wife? How about the rest of the family that is in Fort Worth? Nick had eventually moved to Houston as well and done very well. In fact he was retired at 56.
Jason had invited him along because he knew many of the others who attend, including me.

It was my good fortune, because a short 10 days later he was rushed to the hospital for emergency brain surgery. It seemed he’s had an aneurism or similar and that the Drs. saved him. A week or so later Nick’s wife revealed the cause of the bleeding. Nick has brain cancer, and after consulting many experts was told there is no treatment to halt or even slow it.

I traveled to Houston to see him a few weeks back. I will pick up the story of my visit with him when I tie Nick’s story to the one that I will tell next.

The Father in Law

Fall 1989, I met my wife in a bar. Yea, I know, that’s why I love saying it. To split hairs, it wasn’t a club, and maybe it wasn’t even a bar. Not that it matters whatsoever, but if it must be classified I would say pub or tavern. One where eight-ball and nine-ball was played on a table that took quarters. Even better if three-ball was occasion ally played and if all of those were played for money.

Both sad and true, I was a promising pool player from a young age. That was a side effect of living in a mobile home behind the bar where my mother worked. Though I didn’t play with intensity, I played seriously. Winning some cash as well as the always important all-night command of the table were the drivers. Dispatching challengers with a buddy who filled the slot of “doubles partner” and not really bothering with anything else in the place.

A girl watched me play for a long time. When her bored friends finally moved to another part of the place she spoke to me first. She became my wife almost 26 years ago. Now her father is dying.

I met him first at a family Thanksgiving meal in 1989. Overt Christians scared me then. I was from Ohio. This was rural Texas. The differences seemed insurmountable. There were to be more than thirty people present. I drove an ’87 Corvette and worried that would reduce my chances of not being judged. I was relieved as little boys that would one day be cousins to my kids chased the car up the gravel drive, excited to see it.

My father in law is in most ways a reliable man. He can be relied on to not show anger, to not worry or fret, to always give thanks to God, to remind others….strangers and intimates, that there is a savior that loves them. He is profoundly cheerful. He is cheerful in a manner that seems it would appeal to children more than others. But because it is joy pouring off him it lifts the spirits of those around him. He seems to have a short attention span, not dwelling much on any topic. He is a man that talks a lot, non-stop, yet paradoxically I’d call him a man of few words. That is because he doesn’t suffer fools and when non-fools disagree he refuses to bog down in debate. It makes him intractable. It makes him reliable.

Except that he could be relied on to suddenly change jobs and uproot the family, or for him to disappear to South Africa for instance where he spent months helping set up dairy farms. He spent many years as a long haul trucker. And he truly fed the poor and widows, taking people into his home for long periods of time, offering jobs that he couldn’t afford in the budget of the dairy equipment business he owned and ran for a while. You get the picture.

This left them penniless and dependent on the small social security benefit he and his wife receive. The kids all contribute to keep them afloat.

He will die in days expressed in single digits. I saw him Thursday morning as I was leaving. He is in a hospital bed in his master bedroom, his hair brittle and white, his lips drooping into his mouth as he sleeps on his back and his cheeks sunken and hollow like the countless men I’ve seen as I walked through hospitals or nursing homes during my life, peering into a dim room to see a man’s head and blankets, the head appearing arched backwards and his mouth agape, him being nameless and seeming to be the same man every time in every facility across all those years.



Now that man is in my father in law’s bedroom and my father in law is elsewhere.



He was here at my home last May to watch my wife, his daughter, as she graduated from college at 49 years old. My sons and I had to help him into the arena for the graduation. He used a walker and move d slowly. But he was OK. Not so much just nine months later. He laughed at a joke I made, and he winked at me as a response to another comment, then just that quick the brilliant blue eyes went opaque again. They are mostly opaque. Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s. He is in shut down. A bite of food every other day, water dribbled from a sponge. I had to leave Thursday morning to come back home. I had to say goodbye.

I took his hand in mine, in the posture of a handshake like men do, and I wept as I spoke the things that should be said to the dying according to how they are known to you. I praised him and his family and his faith and made it known that he had inspired me and that him telling me over the years that he was proud of me, that meant so much in the absence of a father of my own to have said it.

I don’t know if his eyes have been watering, I hadn’t seen it, but as I spoke and cried a tear slid from his right eye and sat there on his desiccated cheek. It was there as I walked from the room into the group of others waiting outside the door while I had my time with him.



I Cannot Not Notice

The two situations, Nick’s and FILs, crashed together when my wife told me that her mother had fallen across her father on his death bed and wept, telling him what an amazing husband and father and man he was and that she’d be lost without him.

I recalled my visit to Nick’s hospital room, Forgive this indelicate description but it is an important detail. Nicks cancer has grown outside of the skull from the place where they did the surgery. He has a softball sized mass on one side of his head. His left side is paralyzed but he gripped my right in a firm handshake when I arrived. He is not in pain so no medication. He is 100% lucid and himself.

His wife had disallowed two prior attempts I made to visit. This time I basically told her I was going, and went. She met me in the lobby and yammered about how I needed to turn off my phone and not let Nick see that I had it because he wanted to use a phone or a laptop and she “didn’t want him worrying about stuff he would read or see online”. Odd, but OK then. Phone off, in pocket.

She perched over Nicks other side and talked nonstop. Nick said a couple of things and then closed his eyes. She ushered me out after 30 minutes.

I contacted Jason who stays closer to the situation and he told me that Nick’s wife has been over the top controlling things. Nick wants to go home and die. She told Jason that she didn’t want people in her home. Jason brought Nick a milkshake. She tried to take it away saying sugars promote cancer growth. For the record, if a terminal lung cancer patient wants a cigarette I say smokem if ya gottem. All the more Nick and his shake.

She developed the ban on electronic device s because she feared Nick would fuss with their financial accounts. Keep in mind he is a money handling professional. Jason had asked her why she didn’t just change the passwords and let him have some way to communicate. There may be folks he could have dialog with that cannot come see him. And the accounts could be blocked. She said she just didn’t want him worried about stuff. So, she even asked the staff to keep him off the visitor lounge public use PCs that have internet access.

Jason said that he and some others were forming a group to do a kind of intervention with Nick’s wife where they pressure her to release her iron grip on Nicks last weeks. Because I’d met her many years prior and not really known her in the twenty plus years between, I didn’t know that she was so overbearing. Jason says it was bad, very bad, but that Nick is like most men, lean in and persevere, and he kept his cheerful attitude and his integrity as they raised their family. Now he will die any day.

I’ve described before how my MIL was outwardly unkind to my FIL over the years. She rejected the most basic of affection. If he took her hand she shook him off, if he sat beside her and put his arm across the back of the couch she’d scoot away far enough where it looked awkward and he’d take it down. A hug from him was his arms around her as her arms hung limply and she twisted her face away. As his illness progressed she would berate him for tryi8ng to get attention by shuffling his feet. That was how his Parkinson’s manifested. She was mean to him until maybe six months ago when he suffered a noticeable cognitive decline. He would mumble and point to things only he could see. Sometimes he could have a two sentence exchange with another person then quickly fade out.



She persisted in meanness until she saw that he was unaware of it.

Now she weeps and tells him he is the best ever. I do not think she connects the dots. I do not think her anguish is born of regret for the things I described. I believe she has bent reality for 60 years and that what she sees behind her is not what really happened. He needed to be chided and corrected. He was bigger in his faith because of her faith. That’s a plausible alternate reality for her.

Nick’s wife cannot relinquish control even as Nick’s time runs out. I wonder if he becomes comatose if she will have an epiphany and an emotional outpouring of praise for Nick, apologizing for her controlling nature even unto his death. I doubt it. She has bent reality as well and would see all of her control as the reason for so much good that has occurred in their lives. She raised the family, which includes Nick. She raised Nick too. That’s a plausible alternate reality for her.



My oldest son raised the observation about my FIL. He had noticed the pattern. He has awareness of these things beyond his years. I hope I have not created pure cynicism in him rather than a red pill based way of looking at the context of things.



How sad it makes me to have a red pill view of these lives ending. I want to reprimand myself and put these foolish thoughts away as trivial. That cannot be what is important here. Can it?

Eschew Boasts Thoroughly , Then Spit Them Out

People probably come to my not-busy blog in a similar fashion to my random link surfing that landed me at this  one.  There I found a spark for a post idea in one of her posts.

A while back some men’s blogs started to push back against so called red pill female bloggers. Parallel and most certainly linked to that push back, some men’s blogs also began tp limit female participation. Policy at blogs.like this one and this one and  even THIS one ranged from strict female comment rule enforcement to outright forbidding women from participating.  Doubtful I was alone when I wondered why this  hadn’t started sooner.

Not that more is needed, but there is an illustrative  affirmation in the linked post for those bloggers who chose to escalate comment enforcement. It’s something I already knew without really knowing that I knew it.

The title offers foreshadowing:

The Gentle and Quiet Spirit-Not a Personality Trait

A common proclamation that could be more succinctly and more honestly written as “I’m sassy!”.

By now we know they are all sassy. They are all strong and independent.In  case we forget,  women have disproved the Law of Conservation of Mass. That law is often  stated as “matter cannot be created or destroyed”. Women create entire multi-layered realities so that what they feel is always true, their beliefs, which are often created on the spot as needed, are not challenged in the created reality. And, well, the new reality actually has mass, therefore they are operating outside physical and thermodynamic boundaries.

She asks some edgy tough questions.

How could God put women in a box like that, expecting them to behave outside their personalities? Why does God command this to women but not to men?

Her husband must not be serving her to Matt Chandler’s standards or she’d be as content as the Soma takers in Brave New World.

So, she is sassy. And oh yea, uniquely sassy. And did I say talented and driven? Where in the bible would she go to up the matriarchal moxy? To the chase…..Proverbs 31, Yo.

Proverbs 31 is the primary passage talking about a woman’s internal beauty. Verse 25 says, “Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come.” So this woman clothes herself with strength and dignity

Watching the cipher being (rererere)-written is like seeing an oasis of high reasoning.It is

*** Super Cool Stuff…like a Champagne Supenova***

I was cut from the same cloth as Martha. I know how to get stuff done.

Never imagined a woman claiming such a thing. Well, any woman except every single Christian woman who feels she has to subtly write a resume that passive aggressively cements her into stealth egalitarianism and don’t you forget it buster.

Finally, here is what congealed the idea for the title of this post. In what is meant to seem like a moment of self reflection she says:

My spirit is LOUD. I’m always talking, always trying to figure things out and plan for all contingencies. I’m frustrated when things don’t go my way. I wish I could be in charge of everything and everyone because then I could make things (and people) better

There is truth there. It would make powerful confession and repentance. The context is meant to offer a hue of confession and a tenor or repentance. Perhaps they are there, I cannot know. But the fact is even those serve the narrative.

I recall a learned man’s interpretation of some women’s survey results that appeared in Christianity Today some time back. The results were impossible. There were things that ought to be mutually exclusive. Contradictory assertions that women made in statistic ally significant numbers. The analyst explained it as women wanting to see themselves being exactly the way they want others to view them. they can choose to see that even if two individual instances blatantly contradict one another.

It boils down to this. She lambastes the characteristics that she wants her Christian self to be seen as lambasting. She prominently states her relevant weakness and struggles are in the context of how the bible describes a woman’s right demeanor. In this way she gets credit for sassy (boasting), and credit for calling herself out for sassy (eschewing).



Just Lust, Lust….Just

A man I know is struggling with (t)his situation. His marriage specifically.
Not long ago, perhaps ten years or eight, his wife confessed an affair. Then another.

Prior to that their marriage had settled into what many marriages settle into…a quasi-cooperative chore sharing roommate type arrangement with occasionally and grudgingly endured starfish sex once or twice a month.

In the period after the confession he says the sexual frequency and enthusiasm spiked. It was as if they had been catapulted through time to the early days of their relationship. I recall when he told me, those years ago, that he was going to stick this out and make the marriage a higher priority and that he believed they would overcome. He believed strongly that intact was what his family was to remain. Not by rote. Not solely for the sake of the children. But for real.

I could not and would not stake out an opposing position to his decision to stay. I supported and support that choice still. However I attempted to share some time release low dose daily red pill rules of thumb with him then, and he was not prepared to swallow anything but handfuls of the pure instant release blue ones. A man on a high dose blue pill regimen who is getting frequent good sex from his attractive wife who remains cheerful while having her worse quality manifest as low level nagging that she keeps to a minimum, this is not a man who is inclined to even consider the red medication.

That is until the blue pills stop masking the other symptoms. Usually this is too late for intervention. And this is where he is now.

He sat through a long lunch with me and kept repeating, “remember when you said this, and this, and this?”, referring to red pill nuggets I’d sprinkled in earlier conversations.

I remembered.

Low level nagging has become systematically trying to remake him. And enthusiastic sex has been dismantled bit by bit with a stealth he likened to the slow boiled frog dilemma.

Now he’s gone and done the thing that motivated him to contact me. He suggested and she agreed to head to the church for his execution some counseling.

Pastor seems to not like inclusion of the stuff about her indiscretions in a general framework of where the couple is today. To my friend, the pastor paraphrases my friend’s wife. When my friend asks for help digesting the fact that the wife was very sexually available to a couple of paramours, followed by a period where she was similarly available to him, the Pastor dismisses the comparison saying, “She already confessed and repented that those were driven by lust”.

My buddy is stuck right there. Who wouldn’t be? He is to accept that the fact that the affairs were only lust. She’d subsequently eschewed lust. She’d been forgiven of lust. Her sexual desire for her husband, both prior to the affairs and today, is more sanctified and lust is suppressed for God’s glory. The wife and the pastor and busy explaining the slow cooker cartoonish claim that women cannot just be sexual on a given day don’tcha know.

I’m thinking about my own impressions about sex over time. The hyper-lust of late teen early 20’s, the early married faithful but mind wandering to the alleged male need for more variety…things like that. I reach the part where things are steady. Where is settled where he is in terms of married sex. Could a man use the expression “just lust” as an excuse for infidelity?

By what term to we describe the desire a man has for his wife? I have seen the debate between Christian men and women on whether it’s ok to lust for a spouse. I’ve always thought it was OK, but I’m not strident in this particular word parsing exercise. Now I wonder, could it be that to Christian women lust is needed in order that they have willful sex with a man (paramour or husband) while she needs to see lust as a bad thing so that infidelity can be walled off with it due to having repented of the lust and been forgiven? The side benefit is that her lack of lust for her husband can be embraced. Heralded as virtue.

Based on what my friend has been telling me I think the churches counseling narrative supports the theory that lust is a motive and an excuse. But it must never be good for it would lead to yucky sex with undeserving husbands,

Crack(ing) is gateway drug to Lift Addiction


Speaking of particle physics, I thought that outside the event horizon of a black hole, a man could only lower himself as low as a thin sheen on the floor, one atom in thickness.

Then I found this** blog and this post: Cracking The Code: 7 Ideas that would have saved my marriage.  I realized they have been looking in the wrong place for the Higgs Boson. No particle accelerator was needed to smash subatomic particles into smaller pieces. Men, just regular guys, are routinely lowering themselves down to a level asymptotically close to zero thickness. Call it Higgs Boson carpeting, with no tripping hazard to those invited to walk on them. Its like they are not even there.

Honey! I shrunk myself! (And installed myself too!)

About that Lift stuff…here is a random comment made by joceldawesome on the About page of the above mentioned blog, Must Be This Tall To Ride:

“Hi there! Your page is awesome, and so are you (wink)!Cool”

Here is Joceldawesome.


A most unfortunate quote from her blog.

“I wanted you back, BBC”

Full disclosure, its quite innocent



                     DOUBT ME ABOUT THE LIFT?

Back to the parsing. Let’s set the stage with his closing comments:

Should all marital responsibility fall on men? Of course not.

But could men take the lead in a unified social movement intent on improving the state of marriage—and helping to make it a satisfying, life-giving institution instead of one rife with failure, regret and misery?

Is there a red pill primer that is the remedial equivalent of, say, ABC Mouse? Here is where some red pill men start yammering about cuckservatives and socons and tradcons. Those labels do not apply here, nor do they actually apply as much as the sphere likes to boil them up. But that is for a different post.

A successful unified social movement to improve marriage would manifest how? More marriages and less divorces? I’d suppose. Evidence of the failure he mentions, as well as the regret and the misery, are seen where? It must be all the miserable mid thirties divorced (by own volition) women that we see on social media and who write blogs like this guy’s.

Wait. Er….no, no not so much. Jenny Erickson didn’t write this. This guy did. His blog is a cauldron of misery and regret. he confesses failure. And despite all the -maybe this and this and that would have made her not want to divorce- advice, there isn’t a wit of statistical or anecdotal evidence that it would have helped.

Don’t accuse me of saying that doing decent human things is a waste of time. Not at all. But those things have little to do with what the other will or will not do when the other is a wife and the undesirable action is filing for divorce.

His first numbered point (of seven) is illustrative of his defeated frame (my emphasis):

In male-female relationships, the most common source of breakage is this dynamic. Husband does X. It hurts his wife. She tells him it hurts. He doesn’t take it seriously because if she had done X, he wouldn’t hurt like she is claiming to. His conclusion is that it can’t possibly hurt her, so she’s complaining and being unreasonable about something she’s blowing out of proportion. He chalks it up as something he needn’t take seriously.

It IS possible that she is simply being unreasonable. I account for the fact SOME people are just horrible at being alive. Maybe he married one of those for reasons no sane person could ever explain

Where did he get the facts to support his assertion that this is the most common source of breakage? If he would read Gottman’s work he would see where he is wrong. But that is not very compelling because it leads to glazing over or my study is bigger than your study. He should believe his own eyes if they’d stop lyin’.

He flirts with basic truth  in his point numbers 2 and 4 when he says, respectively:

Appreciating all of the good things in your life—even when bad things happen—is the only way to consistently feel good


FEELINGS CHANGE CONSTANTLY. Up and down, side to side, and back around again.

So, when you want to make your marriage work even when you don’t “feel” the same as you did on the day you got engaged and had sex all night afterward, the solution is pretty straightforward: You choose it.

How to avoid divorce? Don’t file one. There. Simple.

Number 7 is toxic irony. It says to LEAD:

This does not mean “dominate.” This does not mean: Act like you are better or more important than her.

It means:

  • You accept responsibility for the quality of your marriage
  • You accept responsibility for the behavior and “success” of your children
  • You accept responsibility for hurting your wife’s feelings even when you don’t understand how or why it happened
  • You accept the challenge of not repeating those behaviors
  • You do not passively ask your wife to manage the entire household’s calendar and make all decisions about food or weekend activities, only to complain when it doesn’t align with what you want to do
  • You accept responsibility for making her feel sexy and desired, planting the I-Want-To-Have-Sex-With-You Seeds at unexpected times and not just after you ignored her all night and got a sudden hard-on, or worse, only when you’re post-party drunk twice a month

A wife should never cheat on her husband (just as a husband should be vigilantly faithful to his wife). But instead of feeling and exhibiting jealousy and paranoia, or wondering whether she’s looking elsewhere to fill physical or emotional voids, BE THE LEADER.

Accept the challenge to proactively make your wife your life’s focus at the top of your daily priority list.

Then, affairs go away. Emotional insecurity goes away. Resentment and anger and hurt feelings and fighting go away.

He has either been reading relationship books written by women (or by Christian men), listening to women in his life affirm him as he free style emasculates himself in front of them-lets hope the wives of his friends are not offering Lifts because those come with respect that is borrowed from her portion that is assigned to her husband-, or through the blog in a sort of Pavlovian response to reward and punishment.

He has not used his own powers of observation objectively. Mired in self effacement, trying to lift himself up by lowering himself like some Reverse Flash from earth 2 version of Christ’s statement that the last shall be first, he has accumulated an impressive gaggle of lift givers.

On his about page there are 194 likes. A cursory look shows that they are 80% or more from females. How easy it would be to conflate those likes with having a winning prescription for marriage.



**   He has a whole series called “An Open letter to Shitty Husbands” that is begging to be        parsed.

The chastity of Saeed’s sexual abuse

The reach of Saeed’s abuse has been severely limited by his release from the Iranian prison. Italian police didn’t name the suspect but they found what they considered (of course, the truth would challenge a paradigm) to be possible evidence of a form of domestic violence when they were called to help unlock something for a woman.

The firefighters managed to break the iron lock before opening an investigation into whether the woman had been forced to wear the belt by someone else as an act of domestic violence

Whoever the man is, he left her to her own device.