Men know they are sexual exiles. They wander the earth seeking satisfaction craving and despising never content. There is nothing in that anguished motion for women to envy.
Lucky that man whose children make his happiness in life and not his grief the anguished disappointment of his hopes.
My friends never talk to me about my poetry because they're embarrassed that I write it or they're embarrassed by what I write about which are not such extraordinarily terrifying things but they are the state of human existence.