Yes.
Yes.
Yes.
I know.
We have to, guys. We have to.
Come on, we’ve already been through so much.
Stop whining.
So.
Communication is, to put it mildly, a weak spot for boys.
Yell at the kids.
Dominate the wife.
Sit there and be angry.
If something needs to be sorted out — either you start shouting immediately,
or you go passive-aggressive.
Both are crap.
You need to sit down.
Squeeze your right ball first,
then the left,
and say, “Baby, I need to talk to you about a few things.”
Baby might be in God knows what kind of state,
because she has her own life,
and as we remember, she’s not going through what we’re going through.
So there we are, sitting.
We’re not rubbing our forehead like a man about to announce he’s leaving the family.
We’re not scaring her.
No.
We’re not sighing like grandma just said she loves our brother more than us.
No.
No.
We sit relaxed.
Well, not completely.
We apply a little pressure.
Come on, you’re not saints either.
So.
We spread our legs wide. Dominant.
Lean the body forward a bit.
Not too much, but enough to invade her space.
And we give her a serious look.
Like Paddington Bear.
He calls it his hard stare.
And the woman is horrified.
She feels like a maid who failed to please her master.
Hey, hey, hey — don’t drift off into fantasy.
Not the time for maids.
Shame.
But
not now.
So.
We tell her,
“Baby, give me clear steps. What exactly do you want from me, and by when?”
She’ll say:
Go to the store.
Take out the trash.
Drown.
Alright, alright.
There will be a concrete list.
We’re playing dirty, so we write that list down.
Pen. Paper. Focused.
Women are terrified of facts.
Because that’s not their territory.
We’re terrible bastards for doing this, but in war…
So —
The list.
Everything written down.
We show it to her.
She nods.
Next.
There are two paths.
Honestly…
She looks so damn cute.
She’s standing there, quiet, hands folded, about to cry.
She’s scared of him — he’s such a big boss.
Damn.
Honestly, we could comfort her here…
We could.
We really could.
But first — we take what’s ours.
We tell her:
“This is the list.
I complete it. That’s it.”
She nods.
We clarify:
No adding to the list. No “I just remembered.” No extras.
Then we sit down and do whatever we want.
Even if it’s a movie marathon.
That doesn’t concern her.
That’s our time. Period.
She nods.
Good.
We put the paper away.
We reach for her.
“Come here, baby. I’ll comfort you.”
Perfect.
We pushed.
We pressed.
We secured better terms for ourselves.
Now we can move to sex if we want.
That’s how it goes.

Honestly, this works with kids too.
We clearly define what and where.
Everyone nods.
Both sides stick to the agreement.
If one side breaks the deal,
there will be consequences.
Key.
We do not let this shit slide.
We don’t flush all our work down the toilet.
Consequences are mandatory.
Even if she promised a blowjob.
Even if the kids are crying.
Consequences are not negotiable.
Otherwise we slide back into “convenient husband.”
“Nice dad.”
And basically a loser.
So no.
Consequences.

Key.
If something on the list doesn’t sit right with us, we say it straight.
Yeah, at first we shake.
Of course.
But we learn, guys. We learn.
We say:
“I don’t like this. I don’t want to do this.”
They’ll start pushing.
Saying the point has to stay or needs discussion.
If there’s absolutely no way around it,
we don’t dump it on the family.
Alpha’s a man, damn it.
We handle it.
Key.
We can’t say “I won’t do it”
and then do it anyway.
That’s complete bullshit.
If we don’t want to do it but it has to be done — then we pay.
We find someone who’ll do it.
And we don’t cheap out like, “Fine, I’ll just do it myself.”
No.
That’s how the alpha becomes a loser again.
If we don’t like it — we don’t do it.
That’s how an alpha learns to respect himself.