--- slug: fn-src-email-15561c04d057789b title: "On Martyn + My Mom" kind: source_email status: published hash: 0e356bc50a75a2eefc0d189632abcccd1c41bda6d71742a238781e6b52584f2e created: 2026-10-11T06:59:21.140Z updated: 2026-10-11T06:59:21.140Z summary: "" tags: [] above: ["[[fn-index-emails]]"] below: [] adjacent: [] nested: [] --- # On Martyn + My Mom # Email ## Attachments No attachments. ## Message From: Cyrus Massoumi To: Eric Moberg , Cyrus Massoumi Subject: On Martyn + My Mom Sent: Fri, 17 Jun 2016 21:24:00 -0700 Sent (UTC): 2016-06-18T04:24:00.000Z Sent (America/Los_Angeles): 2016-06-17T21:24:00.000-07:00 Account: 62ca724fdabf40deba435e42eb88ef18 Gmail message: 15561c04d057789b Thread: 15561c04d057789b Message-ID: CAMG-JC-FRe5=oZrV+csM9kn=JwZdqmbzDTkAUaZzHq3TjhCU9Q@mail.gmail.com Body coverage: full Body format: markdown ## Body I grew up the child of a single feminist mother as a child in the "trophy generation" where everyone got a trophy just for showing up. My earliest memories are littered of my mother Hengameh screaming at my godfather, her x-husband, Martyn, who was one of the two men that raised me. Martyn was an English gentleman of the old school. A Cambridge history major he excelled at the retention of facts and loved social occasions while never finding any luck in the practical matters of business or the management of his own money. Martyn due to his financial misfortunes was living with my mother when I was born, my father being absent for that, and my entire life - a man I still haven't met to this day. Martyn made a decision to help in raising me and as a result became a father figure. As a child with few if any friends I never had any point of comparison for how healthy relationships work. All that I saw growing up was my mother screaming at Martyn and treating him like shit. My mother was and remains extremely angry at life because she has remained single. A woman with a bad temper and a short fuse she's incredibly difficult to get along with. Since I had to spend huge amounts of time with her, I was constantly exposed to her screaming and yellow profanity at Martyn who in turn would say something to her, at which point she would expel him from my life for great lengths of time. Martyn would have to crawl back to her with his tail between his legs in order to regain access to me, which at that advanced point in his life was the only thing he had going for him, trying to be a father to a son that wasn't biologically his. That was my point of reference, a woman treating a man like shit. My grandfather had an arranged marriage to my grandmother, my grandfathers brothers also had marriages to my grandmothers sisters. That was aristocracy in Iran, extremely rich and powerful families would align themselves for position by marrying into one anothers families. My grandmother was no different than my mother in how she treated men, my grandfather spent the entire twilight of his life after a successful career trying to keep his wife happy. My grandfather, like my godfather Martyn, loved to be around other people. My grandmother, like many other women, thrives on unhappiness. For some reason some types of women seem to have some inherent need to be unhappy since it keeps them occupied and allows them to exert control over the people around them. Our country estate in Napa is far isolated from the rest of the family that lives in neighborhoods closer to metropolitan areas. My grandmother wanted to live out here in Napa valley on a vineyard that resembles the Iranian countryside, on a property infected with the green hue of rows of grapes and planted flowers and plants scattered throughout. My grandmother, having back problems, would hobble behind my grandfather when he did gardening work, unable to do most things herself, she would point at a task she wanted done and say do this, do that. This same scenario was repeated inside the house where my grandfather waited on her hand and foot. Exasperated he would occasionally explode and yell at her, you do something, do anything, stop telling me what to do. His only peace and quiet a few hours laying on his recliner in front of the TV, not paying attention to anything. What comes as a huge surprise, I in turn having been surrounded by unhealthy relationships between men and women had a distorted view of myself as being "less than" and had a view of women as the all powerful gatekeepers to some sense of satisfaction. Of course this is an illusion created by women. I was raise to think its a mans duty to do everything to keep the women around him comfortable. "You fucking asshole" was a common phrase I heard as a 5 year old being yelled by mother to my father equivalent, Martyn. My grandfather like a plantation slave acting as the arms of a women incapable of doing things herself, but insisting on him doing the things she couldn't. Do I have memories of a happy dinner where people were laughing and having a good time. The gleam of a well lit home filled with love and the sound of laughter echoing through all the halls. Not a single time. Not a single dinner. The only sounds were the sounds of silverware scraping against the plates. Everyone paying every degree of attention to me. I was put on the highest pedestal, the youngest of 5 grandchildren my mother was never expected to have a child. My grandparents, who according to my mother encouraged her to have a child out of wedlock would allow me to get away with anything, and when I did act like a fucking asshole, any scolding I got would be shrugged off by me, and never came with any real punishment. ---- Martyn ---- Martyn's role in my life alternated between two things. Being degraded and punished by my mother, and being my "best friend" which likely kept me from making friends my own age. On one occasion Martyn and I were on the phone, my age being 4 or 5, I couldn't spend time with Martyn because he and my mother were in the middle of one of their trivial and usual arguments. Before hanging up, after thinking I had hung up, in reference to my mother, Martyn said something to the effect of "What an asshole", as a result, my mother didn't let Martyn see me for over a year. That was her sadistic way of torturing the only man who was in her life, who was only in it because he wanted to spend time with me. Martyn was utterly degraded, after a failed attempt where he came to the house and was cleaning out the gutters of the roof, we returned home and I was excited to see him, having not seen him in some months, my mother started screaming at him and banished him off the property. His degradation continued endlessly, resorting to writing my Grandfather who isn't even competent in English a letter begging to have permission to see me again. This is how evil women are. The "feminist" movement told them to go fuck whatever they wanted. Then "accidentally" after being shot up with enough ejaculate to extinguish a fire they "somehow" become pregnant. For those children who are lucky enough not to be aborted by these "free thinking" read: misguided/lost/confused/angry women they are then born into a household without two parents, without a man, without a masculine role model, next to a person who hates men and masculinity because it fucked them over and left them as a societal throw away in a world where any reasonable man knows to steer clear of these women with "baggage". As a young boy with a feminist mother you sit by night after night as they watch their romantic comedies night after night, where a women is swept off by her feet by an imaginary man who is perfect to her for apparently no reason and they live happily ever after. Inevitably the movie also has a complete asshole who feminists take to be representative of all men, and the guy who has his shit together and for no apparent reason picks this women who doesn't have much to offer (the only man worth being with to a feminist, a guy who puts them before himself). This indoctrination is ruthless, men are bad, men are pigs, men should treat women better. So it begins, the process of putting women on a pedestal in a boys mind. Simultaneously you have to put an impossibly high standard on yourself and think that you are inherently bad. Male figures are either absent in your life, made into villians, and if present, treated like shit. --- Spending Time With Martyn --- If my childhood contains any memories that could be called happy, they were fleeting moments, and the bulk of them were spent with Martyn. We would go play miniature golf - with my cheating on the scorecard, cheating, hitting his ball out of bounds, ETC. I would be up to my usual shenanigans and he would be enjoying my company. Aside from this I also enjoyed fishing in the pond that we had at my property. This was a chance to quickly get away from the usual hysteria going on there. Going fishing, all I needed to do was cast and catch catfish that were abundant there. When I was very young, Martyn insisted on keeping a close eye on me while I cast off a bridge there, holding me by the waist while I cast the bobber and fly out into the pond. Whenever I caught a catfish, Martyn doing the dirty work of beating it to death with a branch. Being out there as often as we were gave often to unusual prize, one day catching 5 catfish, another time catching a sunfish, being eaten by a catfish, and in turn reeling them both in simultaneously. Eventually I outgrew the pond, being able to cast the full length from one side to the other. I also outgrew spending time with Martyn earlier than he would have preferred, opting instead to escape into video games and acting with disregard for all of the people in my life. My childhood was baron socially aside from party events, since Martyn was readily available to hang out with, I spent an excess of time with him. As a result, I wasn't inclined to go and become friends with children my age, since by comparison they seemed less interesting and less amusing than hanging out with an adult. As a result, my social skills suffered. I lived all of my formative and adolescent years as an awkward kid who wasn't able to participate in social situations without seeming like a complete dork. ## Facts ```json { "platform": "Gmail", "source_id": "15561c04d057789b", "date_as_recorded": "Fri, 17 Jun 2016 21:24:00 -0700", "from": "Cyrus Massoumi ", "to": "Eric Moberg , Cyrus Massoumi ", "subject": "On Martyn + My Mom", "category": null, "body_status": "full text (agent capture)", "account": "massoumi.cyrus@gmail.com", "retrieval": "/home/hatch/workspace/email/gmail/820bcfbb8dc37a4ffef84472ecd8a1e35c9db9a85126a2d3730d5059a95c0f50.md" } ``` --- **above:** [[fn-index-emails]]