Thoughts on Female Self-Esteem

This post HERE got me thinking:

I looked back at the girls whom I enjoyed dating the most. The girls who elicited the strongest emotional response from me. The girls for whom I felt deep, very deep emotional connection and attachment.

They were insecure. The way they would lay their head on my chest. Or curl up in my arms after a tough day. The way they would cry and require consoling evoked very, very strong masculine feelings within me. They wanted a rock. My life and childhood have made me such. Rock meet person needing a rock. Boom! I felt protective of them, and would attend to their needs and make them feel appreciated, loved, desired, controlled, dominated and supported.
A real man can do both.
By "real" I mean "masculine" in the traditional gender role sense.
I masculine man smacks his girlfriend on the ass in public or gropes her.
A real man, pauses, in an aisle of a store, and kisses her like the earth is collapsing around them and in this moment there is only them.
A masculine man is unswayed by her temper tantrums.
A real man makes her feel safe as she sleeps by his side.
A real man will cut off his nose to spite his face.
A real man is a dichotomy. He can bring order and peace to her world or tear it apart and leave it with nothing but sewn salt so that she will always seek him on an emotional and sexual level.

Then I thought of the girls who feigned independence. Who don't need a man. (I've found it's never exactly that way, much like the women who say they don't want to get married - always a lie).
But at any rate, I never made it much past the interest phase with those girls. They could never let their defense(s) down enough to establish truly deep emotional rapport.
I don't need a woman to need me, but it goes a long way in establishing some deep emotional bindings and connections.

Lying in bed last night, my girl was still pondering why it upset her so much that I had walked out in the middle of the night after sex previously. She asked out loud, if it was due to insecurity. She decided that, no, it wasn't, and I said nothing because sometimes you must let the hamster spin its wheels and let her cling to some pretty lies regarding how she wants to see herself. She can tell herself one thing, so long as the dread she feels in her heart and soul is quite another.

Reminds me of the girl I dated the longest, and the girl for whom I will always have some undying love: she had basically accepted that I would occasionally cheat and that it was nothing of emotional merit, but I needed her to admit that was the deal. I needed her to verbally commit to the agreement. Stupid. I lost her.

I have digressed.
If you are not willing to break her, you do not deserve her.
I've been lucky enough to know some older, far more wise women than most.
One of them confided in me, and she was a true ball-breaker, no-bullshitter type woman, but she remarked: "as tough as I am *****, ultimately, it is because I am seeking one of the few men who can break me. I need it. I crave it. But many men feign confidence but cannot break a woman. You have that trait. I saw it in how you broke *****. She hated you and loved you for it. That is true love. Love in the variety of Jane Eyre and Rochester. That is passion and love."
--

I woke up yesterday morning.
My girl was aching for me to dick her down. She was sopping wet, undulating and grinding her hips, moaning loudly.....
The night before had been tumultuous with a near physical altercation, my fucking her on the floor of her closet then walking out when she laid their unemotively and still pouting over something from before the sex that I had clearly refused to do or consider doing no matter how angrily or poutily she had asked me to do for her.
Now, on this morning, my girl got up, made me tea, asked if I wanted an omelette before leaving for work, and packed my lunch.

Ignore what they say.
Watch what they do.
Her words that night after I returned and this morning in question, made clear she was hurt. That she had considered cursing me out and telling me never to consider seeing her again for no reason whatsoever. She told me how angry she was. She told me how much in that moment she hated me. She had tried to hurt me by saying it made her consider going back to her ex. I weathered the storm. I was unmoved. I refused to apologize for leaving and was unequivocal to which she was still angry.
But, her actions, what she did spoke volumes. She got up, settled into her feminine role....and as I would find, when I came home from work that day, she was primped, freshly showered, hair and make-up done, and lingerie wearing, pulled me directly to bed and we had marathon sex.

My attitude with women is and always has been since the moment of realization, what they say matters so very much incredibly less than what they do.
I had to break her and make her beg for me to return.
She is and was mad about it, but secretly, whether she admits it or not, she knows and feels the dread necessary to respect me as a man.