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And that’s okay—because they’d probably break in a week.
Let’s get one thing straight:
We are the moon.
They are the sun.
We shift.
They shine.
We bleed.
They blink.
And yet, every full moon, they’re out here wild-eyed and wondering why they can’t sleep, feeling “weird,” and eating an entire box of Cheez-Its in the garage—totally unaware they’re syncing with lunar energy like unconscious werewolves.
Meanwhile, we’re tracking our basal body temperature with one hand and sobbing over a dog food commercial with the other.
Why it’s Impossible for Men to Truly Get It
Biologically speaking, men run on a 24-hour hormone cycle. That’s right. Twenty. Four. Hours. Testosterone peaks in the morning, dips at night—rinse and repeat. Like a microwave. Press start, beep, done.
Women? We run on a 28-day cycle, shifting through four complex hormonal seasons like nature’s moody opera.
Estrogen, progesterone, luteinizing hormone (LH), follicle-stimulating hormone (FSH)—it’s like a Broadway cast inside us, taking turns belting solos while we try to act normal at a PTA meeting.
Trying to explain this to a man is like trying to teach a dog quantum physics, except the dog is wearing a backwards hat and asking if we’re mad at him.
Men are the Protectors—Which is Why They’re Built for Consistency
Let’s give them credit where it’s due. Men are biologically wired to be the fortress.
Stable. Strong. Predictable.
They’re the oak tree, and we’re the seasons changing around it.
They don’t have cycles because their role was to stand guard, throw spears, and grunt affirmations while we bled, nested, birthed, bled again, and still managed to forage the damn berries.
They’re not broken. They’re single-function devices.
Us? We’re multi-layered, deeply intuitive, hormone-surfing alchemists.
They are consistency.
We are calibration.
Females are change.
Males are anchor.
And both are necessary.
We need them to not fall apart every time their serotonin dips. And they need us to explain why we can cry, orgasm, and plan a business launch all in the same hour.
But we must stop pretending we’re the same.
Not masculine versus feminine—that’s energy.
We’re talking biology.
Hardware.
Factory settings.
And the truth is: if men had periods, humanity would’ve gone extinct in the Bronze Age. You think Brad is surviving his Day 2 cramps without a GoFundMe?
So dear men, don’t try to understand. You don’t have to get it.
Just respect it.
Just believe us when we say we’re in the luteal phase and might slap a pigeon for looking at us funny.
You’re not broken.
You’re not slow.
You’re just solar-powered—and we’re lunar-fueled.
So next time we’re howling at the moon or crying over our seventh spiritual awakening this month, just nod, offer snacks, and say, “You’re a beautiful, magical, bleeding goddess and I’ll be over here building a fire.”
~
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