the men no woman knows how to hold | musing no. 50
what it really means to carry the weight, stay grounded, and still be expected to lead.
when i started this, there were two subscribers — one of them was me.
now there are over a hundred and forty of you reading these words.
that number isn’t massive, but what it represents is.
because every one of you found this place by choice.
no ads. no gimmicks. just words.
fifty musings deep. seven red room pieces.
and a rhythm that’s held steady — twice a week, without fail.
that consistency means something to me. it means i kept a promise to myself.
the truth is, i didn’t expect cuffed to grow this fast.
i also didn’t expect how much the writing would change me.
there’s something about sitting down, forcing yourself to translate thought into clarity,
that burns away the lies you used to live inside of.
it’s been the most cathartic experience of my life.
one quote i wrote recently keeps echoing in my head:
you don’t attract the people you want.
you attract the people you reflect.
that line sits at the center of this milestone.
because looking back, i’ve realized every chapter, every person,
was just a mirror showing me who i was at the time.
a lot of readers have asked what do i think really happened with dabatha.
what i’ve come to accept is that she was never deep enough to hold a man like me.
and that isn’t bitterness — it’s observation.
we live in a world where women talk about wanting high-value men,
but almost none understand what that actually means.
they see the results — the company, the lifestyle, the confidence —
but they never see the weight.
they don’t see what it’s like to be the person everyone looks to when things go wrong.
to wake up knowing fifty families eat because you keep your company standing.
to walk into chaos and be the calm that steadies everyone else.
to carry that kind of pressure quietly, because leadership doesn’t allow collapse.
and then layer in fatherhood.
because many of us have lived full lives before love comes back around.
we’re not just men anymore. we’re fathers.
we’re responsible for the emotional and physical wellbeing of children we adore,
while still navigating the tension of co-parenting with respect and restraint.
that alone would break most people.
so when a man like that finally lets someone in,
what he needs isn’t constant control.
he needs peace.
he needs a woman who understands when he steps back,
it’s not weakness — it’s depletion.
he’s not flinching. he’s exhaling.
the rare ones — the women built to hold that kind of man —
they can feel the difference.
they see the moment his armor drops,
and instead of panicking, they pick up the sword and guard the space for him.
they shoulder some of the load, not because he asks,
but because they understand that strength is a two-way exchange.
sometimes that looks like taking the lead on a small thing he shouldn’t have to carry.
sometimes it’s protecting him from unnecessary noise.
sometimes it’s in bed — reading his silence and knowing exactly how to meet it.
but that level of partnership is rare.
most women confuse stillness for indifference.
they mistake calm for apathy.
they misread a sigh for surrender,
when in reality, it’s the sound of a man finally breathing after years of holding it in.
if these fifty musings have taught me anything, it’s this:
depth recognizes depth.
surface-level attraction burns out fast.
but when you reflect steadiness, discipline, and presence —
you stop chasing the shallow, and start attracting the real.
so to everyone who’s been here — reading, commenting, sharing —
thank you.
every subscriber, every message, every quiet nod of understanding matters more than you know.
because it means there are people out there who see what we’re building.
people who crave the same kind of truth.
here’s to the next fifty.
to the ones who feel the weight, but carry it anyway.
to the men no woman knows how to hold.
and to the women strong enough to learn how.
— author
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Can you hear my standing ovation? I will clap until my arms give out.