To Become a Man: From Fetishism to Nobility

Disclaimer: the image used to illustrate this post was created using AI and a composite of images of me, horses, and is a series of pre-shoot planning shots which are being used to guide the photographer for styling.

The problem with algorithms and social media is that we end up in an echo box, hearing our own thoughts back to us, or just those with whom we might agree. I remember reading about porn when I was younger, and the danger of it, which is that once you satisfy a lust or a fetish, you just want something more extreme.

Men feel this too. The sense that something is missing, even when desire is being constantly fed.

I was raised in a Christian environment. Chapel services every morning before school. I shudder to think of it and wonder at times how much my life was shaped by a rejection of dogma.

I understand why men recoil from moralising systems that tell them what they should want, instead of teaching them how to desire well.

Well the particular echo box I am in at the moment is reinforcing my own ideas, which is a bit cuddly of the technosphere, but I know that it isn’t a warm cuddle, but one of tech bro madness, a morass of unrecycled plastics and junked IT which might begin to fester in landfill thousands of years after civilisation as we know it has ended.

And how the F did Wall-E ever become a cute movie and not be seen as the most devastating socio-political cartoon ever made? Love transcends electronics. Mankind (note the use of the noun) has destroyed the earth and made it totally uninhabitable (Womankind wouldn’t do that). Even the robots left behind looking for signs of life had succumbed to the junk heap of time. Even the robots have more heart than the Mankind which created the devastation.

Are you with me?

The particular idea I am circling at the moment is one that has popped into my feed. The gist of it is that “our grandparent’s generation” stayed married because wives were financially and politically dependent on their husbands. But now, if you want a woman to be with you, you have to bring her something of value.  Most men already know this, even if they’ve never said it out loud.

I’ve written about how men can’t compete with modern women unless they have their thumb on the scales. Indeed, the entire lurch towards the Trad Wife and Handmaid’s Tale redux we are seeing in many places around the world, reflects this. Weak men need structural cheats to “equalise” things.

If you’re reading this with discomfort rather than defensiveness, you’re not the man being criticised.

The key message here is the positive one. Bringing something of value. Some men sense this. Some men wish to have women in their lives with majesty. Some men truly love women. Not lust for. Love. Almost every man lusts for women, but only a handful understand love on a deep, and profound level. Full body. Cellular.

This kind of love is not theoretical to me; it is something I recognise instantly when a man walks into a room.

And social noise, is actually a giant distraction game. Keeping men from understanding the truth, that in order to see a woman in her full glory, all of the obstacles need to be shifted out of her way. The enormity of that task is galling. Unachievable. At least not without collective and near universal action.

Individual men still matter, and individual choices still count.

But in the meantime, the enlightened man understands. Maybe not always rationally, but in his body.

A number of men have spoken to me on this of late. They use the word “submission”. And that is what the D/s, BDSM, Kink world might describe it as. They seek to describe the desire inside themselves to submit.  Most men reach for that word because they lack better language.

And while this has been happening, I have been gelling with my baddie friends, saying that “dominance” and “submission” or “give” and “receive” are laced with so much wrong-meaning.

So much of male narrative is about conquest of the woman. But what conquest is there when she is in a cage, asked to compete with her legs shackled, or her hands behind her back? The language and the frame is all wrong. But all too common. The bitter and twisted incel brain latches onto this, as if access to women was a birthright. It is a short trip from there to rape and denying women bodily autonomy.  There is another way to stand with women, but it requires strength rather than entitlement.

And an enlightened man feels that in his body. The injustice of it. The enlightened man understands that women possess choice. It is women who choose. The enlightened man sees that, feels it, and surrenders to it.

Surrender is not passive; it is disciplined, attentive, and chosen.

A man who understands the beauty of a woman who chooses, and seeks to enrich her ability and power to choose, is the one who benefits most when he ends up being the one chosen.

I am offering an alternative path to a woman’s heart. In my world, these kinds of men are sometimes described as “submissive”. The truth, however, is that many “submissive” men are not submissive at all. They are turned on by the dungeon aesthetic, leather or latex clothing, the accessories.

If you are more interested in who you are becoming than how she looks and what that says about you, you’re already closer than you think.

But the others, the ones I am calling forth, are not submissive.

Who wants a ‘yes’ man? Who wants someone who offers his gifts without cultivating them and making himself worthy? In nature, it is understood that the man is the “peacock”, showing off that he might be chosen. The perverse inversion of humanity has squelched this natural feeling.  And yes, women notice who has done the work.

The truth?  This is not submission. It is devotion.  Devotion is legible to me in how a man listens, moves, and anticipates. Devotion is not fatuousness. It is intent. Clarity. Discipline. Purpose.

The enlightened man is the devoted man. Don’t come to me and say “yes Mistress” to whatever facile thing we have between us. That is meaningless to me. What counts is the man who has power, is conscious of his power, does everything he can to cultivate and grow his power—not over others, but in himself, in relation to himself.

When a man like this offers devotion, it lands differently.  It changes the temperature in the room. And I like it hot. When such a man shows devotion, not submission, but true devotion, oh man, I’m wet just thinking about it.

Don’t come to me whimpering that you want to be kept in chains in my basement (this is a very popular fantasy by the way). Come to me and lay all of you at my feet. Your achievements, your character, for good and bad, your intention. If I want to lock you in chains in my basement because it serves me, then I will. But when you are devoted, every act to the women who holds your devotion is fealty to the Goddess. I am not her, but she flows through me, and through every woman who embraces her sovereignty, her choice, and is willing to exercise it. You would never lay rotten fruit at the foot of a Goddess. So be your best, and strive to be better.

Who wants mediocrity?

And this isn’t some new thing. Already in the Middle Ages chivalric love, chaste love, was sung about. This is the modern-day equivalent.  For the enlightened man, the impulse is there.  But it takes a courageous man to lean into it, to honour women, and to serve.  This is the real man, not some port-a-kit pre-fab dude bred on toxic-man chat-show talk.  And you know why?  

Because women are the ones who decide.

The other day I was at a social gathering and the staff was pushing a drink that was made with a tipple of one of the party sponsors. I said, ‘no thank you’, and mused out loud that if I felt like drinking anything at all at midday, it would be champagne. I continued my conversation with the man I was speaking to, a big shot. A few minutes later he excused himself so I ended up speaking to another chap who had been quietly listening to the side. Not five minutes later, the first man showed up with a glass of champagne and put it down next to me, no words. I said, ‘thank you.’  He wasn’t performing; he was paying attention.

Yes, it is a small thing. But it says the world.

Being devoted is noble. Showing a woman that you respect her, honour her, care for her, and will put her comfort and satisfaction above your own, says what kind of man you are. That’s what we mean by big-dick energy. 

Confidence shows itself in restraint.

One of my readers, sorry buddy, truth hurts, wrote that he would never date a feminist. These are the kind of little-dicked men that belong in long-term chastity. I think you get my gist—chastity is not for the men who choose it, but for all the others who think it is some kink or loser activity and who think they are alphas. It is ironic, I know, but to the man, every man I know who chooses chastity, is on the right side of history. It just happens that our society forces righteousness to come out in less obvious ways.

Men who have purpose share one thing. They celebrate women. They don’t need to “conquer” women with man-language, for they are confident that being respectful is hot. Generosity is hot. Being protective without control is hot. Being present is hot. A woman doesn’t even need to think to choose a man like this.  He doesn’t “get the girl”, he simply shows that he is worth being chosen.

Do you know what? The man who shows up for women this way is the one who gets chosen. When submission is an act of devotion, then you get it. And yes, such a man is the one who finds himself within the warm embrace of a woman. And that is the man who is happy, who has purpose, and who belongs.

The rest might be off somewhere alone, raging at the TV set and squeezing one out for the team.

An Invitation

I work with real men. Men who are prepared to compete. Men who are prepared to show up with everything they’ve got. Men who will do the work. Men who will crack open and dig into the ugly dark within, to emerge with renewed vigour. These are the men who are worthy of love, they are the men who honour women.  Working with me is not a concept.  It is a way of life.  And you will feel it the moment you step into my presence.

If you are still here, something in you has already responded.

This is not casual booking, and it is not for everyone. I work with people who are curious, intelligent, and willing to take responsibility for what they want.

Those who wish to work with me do not request. They present themselves.

Begin here.

About Me

Mx Valentina is a feminist dominatrix, a trans and intersex woman, whose practice centres on ethical power exchange and the conditions under which lives reorganise themselves around purpose rather than shame. Her work is selective and relational, grounded in the belief that submission is not a role to be played but an orientation that must already be present. She works only with those who understand that access is conditional and authority is not negotiated.  You can find my scholarly feminist writing on Substack and lighter pieces on Medium.

About Aetas Deae

Aetas Deae is a women-centred community. We run periodic retreats that explore how men and women can live effectively within matriarchy and a female-led world. It is grounded in practice rather than fantasy: women lead, set the tone, and define the culture; men are invited to learn how to stand in devotion, responsibility, and restraint without coercion or performance. The work is collective, relational, and lived. It is not theoretical.

You may find our upcoming retreats here.