Here a snippet from my early youth:

My dad was working in his own business for 10-12 hours a day, Monday to Saturday, rarely Sunday. High paying, upper middle class job. House, holidays, regularly new cars, no care in the world, but never crazy or lofty shit. Most people would call it 'the fucking dream'. He woke up first and came back late in the evening, chewed out and miserable. He immediately lighted up when his three children greeted him at the door. Finally. Daddy's home.

After some playing around he walked the dog. Then he sat down and prepared his meal: consisting of (sometimes not too fresh) bread, cold cuts and cheese. Every fucking day.

Then, after he prepared us for bed he used to read to us. Later in life he helped us with our homework and was basically ours when he was home. The most gentle soul.

After that my useless cunt of a mother took her chance to nag him to death. She obviously had some energy left after caring half assed for the house and the children, so she screamed at him (I mean fucking yelled) for HOURS that he's supposed to help in the household and that he's showing no effort at all, yadda. Basically all the bullshit she picked up at tv or uni or wherever this agenda was available at that time. That shit sometimes went until way after midnight. She just wouldn't stop and went into some kind of hysterical state. And it was repetitive. The same shit over and over again. But he seemed to digest this better than the extensive and, also for us children, excruciating silent treatment that sometimes went on for fucking days. Psycho bitch.

One day I couldn't sleep, because she was yelling at my dad again. I went into the 'living' room and asked fake innocently what happened and what the problem was. I hoped this would take the tension away and relieve my dad. The two faced bitch changed her mood instantly, looked in my eyes and smiled her most charming smile and told me everything was ok and that she and daddy had to work out some ... . Fucking unbelievable: faking, dishonest bitch. My dad just sat there with the most miserable posture, tired and sad. I still see his unhappy eyes and it makes me furious.

Stuff went better when we got a maid and someone who took care of the household. She used to smoke with them on the balcony.

She pulled dozens of disrespectful stunts, straight denying everything that was agreed upon.

You can tell me he was a beta, he should have divorced, manned up or whatnot. I know and I don't fucking care. He endured her for us children.

As soon as I recognized some of my mother's traits in my first girlfriend I packed my shit and went mgtow. That was 16 years ago. I really crave companionship, I really fucking do. But this shit? Never.