Wandering the Killing Fields (Part 1)

I was scrolling around Facebook the other day after work and I came upon this picture. The image was of a beautiful young woman wearing a man's button down shirt with the caption, "A man's shirt on a naked female body is like a flag on a conquered fortress." Under normal circumstances I would have read this, shook my head and kept on scrolling. But the comments section of this picture caught my attention.

I saw a REALLY long comment that had somewhere around 250 likes. I figured "this many facebookers never agree on anything so I should definitely give the comment a read." What followed has to amount to this person's Magnus Opus of Facebook comments. The man proceeded to simultaneously rail against the other men commenting on the page, which was called-- not coincidentally -- "Fuck Sensitivity," while at the same time speak of a man's responsibility to that "conquered" woman. What follows is an excerpt:

 ... When you take a fortress, you generally keep her. You build her back up, repair her, supply her. Because you are going to shelter within her, and those walls will be the only thing between you and your enemies. ... Without you, she can stand alone. Without her, you wander the killing fields until someone strikes you down. No one who ever took a properly held fortress was ever cocky about it after the fact. He was grateful to have triumphed, and to have a place to call home. ...

This man, whose Facebook profile picture was the mask from "V for Vendetta" (hmmmm), was able to put into words precisely how I have always felt about women. There really isn't much else to say about that. Want to know how I feel about a woman, GO BACK AND READ THE PREVIOUS DAMN PARAGRAPH!

I guess the point of this post (which will probably be a really long one, so this will just be part 1) is to state that I do not understand how I seem to always end up in front of this keyboard writing about my heartbreak and/or my romantic disappointment.

Recently I asked the woman who is my current romantic interest about her recent decision that we break off our relationship:
"What is it about me that turns you off?", I asked.
"It's not you," she replied.
"What is it about US that turns you off."
"It's not us."
"Well, what is it?"
"It's me."

" ... Well, fix it! Please."

(End of Part 1)