It's different for a boy. A boy who makes war on his mother, who cuts her off, like Molyneux did (what he calls de-fooing) has amputated his primary teacher about the feminine. It is said that a man marries his mother. Great Hod, the man must have had to start over at square one, tear absolutely everything down, and build everything up entirely on his own again, as if for the first time, as an adult. What a process. I feel kind of bad for him, as much as I am in awe of the process he must have gone through and what it took to get there. It's remarkable to me that he has a wife and a family now.
My own mother was often an incredibly difficult person with whom to deal, but she did nurture me, as best she knew how. She taught me to read. She was my first and best teacher. She taught me to reason. It's too bad she was unable to teach me some of the consequences of using reasoning ability rashly or unethically. I'm having to learn that on my own. Deep down though, my mother was full of good values. I picked up some of these. I've made some dubious choices about women in my life. In each case though, despite the rather problematical factors involved in some choices, most of the time I could, without fail, identify real values in the women to whom I was attracted, and I could find what it was in these that answered wholesome needs and desires in myself. I've been attracted to some women who had some really interesting, pitiful, even scary damage, but I've never been attracted to a monster or a burning wreck, and I can thank my mother for that.