Month: February 2025

Women are brainwashed from birth by a media machine designed to warp their minds. The manipulation is constant, merciless, and normalized. The more years a woman spends soaking in television, films, music videos, social media, and magazines, the more rotten her expectations become. Every screen tells her she deserves more, without effort, without sacrifice, without reality. The result is a woman who can no longer live in the real world. Fiction rots her soul, ego swells beyond recognition, and delusion becomes her only compass.
 
A powerful example came from the island nation of Fiji. Before cable television arrived, their women were proud of their natural bodies. Full-bodied women were considered healthy, attractive, and prosperous. Eating disorders didn’t exist. Then came Western media. The American TV show Dynasty, a primetime soap opera about thin, wealthy, powerful women living in luxury and constant drama, flooded their screens. Overnight, bulimia and anorexia appeared. Women who once carried cultural pride now starved themselves to mimic fictional characters who didn’t even reflect reality in their own countries. One generation of media turned a healthy culture into a graveyard of shame and neurosis.
 
This disease spread everywhere. Sex and the City taught women that whoring around was empowerment, that men were disposable, that endless drama was the definition of passion. Stability became boring. Intimacy became laughable. The audience didn’t just watch, they swallowed it whole. They modeled themselves on broken characters. They confused chaos for freedom. They destroyed their own futures while calling themselves strong.
 
Then came the Kardashians. That show didn’t just glamorize narcissism, it turned it into an industry. Now millions of women butcher their faces, inflate their lips, and chase validation like junkies chasing a fix. They sink into debt to look like copies of copies of broken role models. The lesson drilled into their heads: integrity is irrelevant, attention is everything. An entire generation reduced to counterfeit personalities begging for digital applause.
 
Even sitcoms like Friends and Seinfeld poisoned the well. Endless dating, shallow hookups, and cheap laughs at the expense of responsibility. Women laughed and absorbed the ideology. Relationships became punchlines. Commitment was mocked. They became addicted to empty freedom with no cost and no consequence. They turned themselves into the shallow characters they once idolized.
 
Music made it worse. Cardi B, Megan Thee Stallion, and their clones preach a gospel of vulgarity and greed. Men are ATM machines. Dignity is obsolete. Integrity is weakness. Young girls now scream lyrics celebrating the death of respect while calling it empowerment. They aren’t empowered, they’re enslaved by ego and blind to reality.
 
Even Disney set the stage. From birth, girls are told they’re princesses. Special, destined, entitled. No work required. No effort necessary. Just sit back and demand the fairytale. When life doesn’t deliver the prince and the castle, they don’t question the fantasy. They blame men for not performing in the script.
 
Men watch media too, but they don’t confuse it with life. A man might admire Bond or Rocky, but he uses it as fuel to sharpen himself. He doesn’t delude himself into believing the world owes him for existing. Women cross that line without hesitation. They confuse entertainment for identity. They confuse fantasy for entitlement. And the more they consume, the more impossible they are to satisfy.
 
Women no longer age into wisdom. They age into entitlement, bitterness, and disconnection. They stop asking “what do I bring?” and start demanding “why haven’t I been given more?” It’s not growth, it’s decay. Not empowerment, but rot. Broadcast on every screen, sold as freedom, packaged as strength.
 
This is not female empowerment. This is mass-produced female delusion. A corporate-fed lie that turns women into hollow shells, egos swollen, realities broken, destinies wasted. For those too far gone, the damage cannot be undone.

A woman will test your love by breaking up with you. That’s her weapon of choice. She doesn’t ask direct questions. She doesn’t tell you what’s bothering her. She orchestrates a breakup to see if you’ll fight to keep her. She wants to be chased, mourned, and begged for. And the irony? She thinks this is smart.
 
But here’s the truth: she’s not logical. She doesn’t operate in reason, she operates in emotion. If women had the same aptitude for logic as men, you’d see them dominate fields that demand it, mechanical engineering, civil infrastructure, software design, theoretical mathematics, machine learning, systems architecture. But you don’t. What you see is emotional chaos disguised as cleverness. And nowhere is that chaos more obvious than when she pretends a breakup is a test.
 
She sets the stage like she’s running a lab experiment, treating you like a lab rat while calling herself the scientist. She wants to measure your reactions under stress. If you’re devastated, she sees weakness. If you beg, she feels disgust. If you stay calm and let her go, she accuses you of never loving her.
 
Understand what’s really happening. This isn’t about love. This is about control. She wants power over your emotions. And she’ll fake a goodbye to see if you’ll collapse without her. If you do, she tells herself she’s too good for you. If you don’t, she tells herself you never cared. You lose either way.
 
The setting matters too. If she breaks up with you privately, that’s a controlled environment. She’s testing without an audience. If she breaks up with you in public, with friends or witnesses nearby, she’s already moved into defense mode. That’s not a test. That’s a setup. She wants them to watch your reaction in case she needs to frame you as the problem later. She’s not seeking closure, she’s seeking evidence.
 
So what’s the right response when she pulls this stunt? You hold the line. You don’t panic. You don’t argue. You deliver the one statement that ends the game and flips the power dynamic on the spot:
 
“You didn’t break up with me. I broke up with you the moment you tested me. That was the moment I walked. And I won’t be back.”
 
Then you leave. No debate. No emotion. No second round. You exit without giving her the chaos she was banking on. That one response tells her everything she didn’t want to hear, you were the one with control, and you won’t be manipulated.
 
If she circles back days or weeks later, looking to reopen the door, you don’t respond. She wasn’t interested in love. She was interested in leverage. And once she sees she can’t move you, she’ll find someone weaker to test next.
 
Because a woman who uses breakups as loyalty tests doesn’t want a man. She wants a puppet. And the moment you become predictable to her emotions, she cuts the strings herself.
 
There is no winning this game.
 
If you fail the test, you lose.
 
If you pass the test, you still lose.
 
Because love isn’t something that gets tested through destruction. If she truly loved you, she wouldn’t have needed a test in the first place.

Women hate other women. That’s the raw truth no one wants to admit. They size each other up with envy and contempt. They gossip, sabotage, and compete over everything, looks, status, men, attention, clothes, followers, you name it.
 
It’s amazing they’re even able to form friendships at all. Most of those “friendships” are shallow, built on convenience and mutual benefit, not loyalty or trust. The moment one gets more attention or success, the claws come out. Ask any woman how many female friends she actually trusts with her secrets or her man, you’ll hear silence.
 
They don’t trust each other in the workplace either. Women hate working for female bosses. Study after study confirms it. Women would rather be led by a man than take orders from another woman. Why? Because deep down, they know what female power looks like, catty, emotional, vindictive. Not because she’s “strict,” but because she reminds them of themselves.
 
And yet, in a twist of absolute cognitive dissonance, these same women will vote for a female politician solely because she’s a woman. Not because she’s qualified. Not because she has better ideas. But because she has the same genitalia.
 
It’s not progress, it’s desperation for validation.
 
They’ll cheer for a woman they wouldn’t trust to manage a coffee shop just to feel like they’re sticking it to the patriarchy.
 
They’ll tear down every female co-worker but post hashtags about “empowered women empower women.”
 
They’ll talk about sisterhood and unity, then go home and stalk their best friend’s Instagram stories to see if she’s gaining weight or losing attention.
 
Women’s hate for other women is so deeply ingrained, it’s practically ritual. Yet they’ll align themselves politically with women they would never associate with personally, just to keep up appearances. That’s not empowerment. That’s performative narcissism.
 
And as always, underneath it all is one common motive, control over resources. Over men. Over validation. Over who gets the spotlight.
 
As it’s been said, “The love of money is the root of all evil.” But for women, it goes even deeper, because they’re not just chasing money. They’re chasing status by proxy, the illusion of importance gained through association with powerful men or influential circles they couldn’t reach on their own. And they’ll sell each other out for it every single time.

When I meet a girl, I will sometimes tell them, “I promised myself that if I met a girl that looks as good as you do, I would buy that girl a diamond ring.” Then I would walk away.
 
Sometimes I tell them, “If I met 5 more girls like you, I would marry them all the very next day.”
 
Some days I will ask a girl I met, “I always attract the craziest women, so if you are attracted to me, I do not want your number.”
 
Most of the time when I’m the third wheel between my friend and his wife, I tell the waitress, “I wanted to bring my girlfriend but my wife would get pissed at me.”

I’m glad we live in a culture that honors mothers. Respect for motherhood matters. But what we have now is not respect. It’s blind worship. It’s a cult. A system that shields mothers and females from any form of accountability or criticism, no matter how justified.
 
Try to have a serious conversation about the rise of single motherhood and watch what happens. The moment you bring it up, the narrative gets hijacked. Suddenly, it’s not about the mother’s decisions. It’s about splitting the blame evenly or throwing it all on the father. As if deadbeat dads aren’t already dragged through the mud endlessly. As if we’re not already bombarded with non-stop reminders of how men fail.
 
Meanwhile, the mother, who made the choice to keep the child, to select the partner, to run the home solo, gets wrapped in bubble wrap. She’s a hero. A warrior. A victim. Anything but responsible for her own actions. The second you question the wisdom of single motherhood, you’re labeled a misogynist. That’s the script. Criticize the system and suddenly you hate women.
 
And nothing changes. No one listens. No one takes action. It’s the same tired cycle, deflect, accuse, silence.
 
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

From time to time I see these stories about gold-digging whores who latch onto millionaires like parasites. She locks eyes on his bank account, wraps herself around his lifestyle, and to secure the bag for life, she pops out a kid. It’s the oldest trick in the book, baby first, money forever.
 
But the story takes a turn. The millionaire isn’t as dumb as she thought. He gets a DNA test. And boom, the kid isn’t his. The real father? A thug sitting in a prison cell. That’s when I laugh. Not because it’s funny for the child, who’s just collateral damage, but because the scheming leech gets exposed and the man walks away with his freedom. It’s tragic and satisfying at the same time.
 
If I were the one gold digging, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to gamble a millionaire’s fortune for some jailhouse lowlife. That’s not just reckless, it’s delusional. That’s like holding the winning Powerball ticket and deciding to hit the bar, get wasted, and lose it in a blackout. That level of stupidity deserves every ounce of failure that follows.
 
She wasn’t just greedy. She was careless. And she bet everything on a lie. The man who tested the truth dodged a bullet. The kid pays the price. And the woman? She’s just another exposed fraud who mistook manipulation for strategy and got burned.

They become whatever men require of them. That’s their entire game. That’s why they always ask the same question, “What kind of woman do you like?” It’s not because they care about compatibility. It’s because they want instructions. They want men to hand them a blueprint so they can perform like chameleons until the target is secured.
 
I’ve spoken to too many of them to fall for the act. They’re not unique. They’re not mysterious. They’re not complicated. They’re running the same software with different lipstick. They will say and do whatever it takes to get a man to open his wallet, his door, and his life. Once they get what they want, the mask comes off.
 
At their core, they’re looking for someone to put food in their mouths. That’s the mission. Everything else is theater. They will act submissive, loyal, nurturing, until they get the house, the ring, the car, the lifestyle. Then they switch up. Every time.
 
They hear “The grass is always greener on the other side” and treat it as a call to action. A roadmap. Not a warning. It tells them to keep looking, keep climbing, keep trading up. It tells them that loyalty is for fools and commitment is a burden.
 
They don’t want to be better women. They want to be whatever gets them paid. Until it stops working.

Help a man out once and when you meet again years later, he will remember. He’ll look you in the eye, thank you without hesitation, and offer his hand if you ever need it. Gratitude is stamped into his code because he knows what it means to struggle and to be lifted.
 
Do the same for a woman and the response is different. She won’t thank you. She’ll ask for more. She’ll act like your past help was a down payment on an endless debt. If you confront her about vanishing, she’ll offer a dozen excuses for not staying in touch, most of them lies designed to mask the guilt she carries for deliberately cutting you off after getting what she wanted.
 
Instead of appreciation, you’ll get deflection. Instead of loyalty, you’ll get critique. She’ll point out your flaws, your missteps, your imperfections, anything to justify why she ghosted you, ignored your kindness, and vanished until she needed something again.
 
A man sees help as a bond. A woman sees help as leverage. Once it’s spent, so are you.

My friend’s 12-year-old son fell off a skateboard and suffered a severe compound fracture just above the elbow. Surgery was unavoidable. The situation was painful, traumatic, and terrifying for the kid. Naturally, we all showed up at the hospital, family, friends, loved ones, bringing gifts and distractions to lift his spirits and support his father through the ordeal.
 
But right in the middle of it all, out of nowhere, the boy’s grandmother broke down. Not from concern or heartbreak. No. She erupted into tears and shouted, “When is it ever going to be my turn?” before storming out of the room like a child denied attention.
 
A 12-year-old boy was in agony, facing surgery, and this grown woman was throwing a tantrum because the spotlight wasn’t on her. She was jealous. Jealous that a child in pain was receiving more care and compassion than she was.
 
That moment exposed her completely. It wasn’t about family. It wasn’t about love. It was about attention. The fact that she could watch her grandson suffer and still make it about herself is all you need to know.
 
Some people don’t visit to support. They show up to compete.

I hate hearing a man raised by a single mother badmouth his father like he’s repeating scripture. He’ll spit venom about a man he barely knew, parroting every word his mother fed him without question. The bitterness sounds rehearsed because it is. He was trained to hate the man who wasn’t there, never told why he wasn’t there, never allowed to consider the full story.
 
What’s worse is that even after life hands him the same script, after his own child gets ripped from his arms by a bitter ex, after he’s alienated, lied about, and erased, he still doesn’t wake up. He still blames his own father, never realizing he’s now living the same nightmare that his father probably endured.
 
His baby’s mother runs off, poisons his child against him, and paints him as the villain, and he still can’t connect the dots. Still can’t see the generational hit job. Still can’t admit that maybe his father wasn’t the monster he was told about. Maybe his father was just the first casualty.
 
Doesn’t he see the pattern? Or is it easier to keep blaming the ghost than face the truth?

I’d love to have the guts to ask a girl, “Want to go to Greece or somewhere far?” No gimmicks, no pretense. I’d buy her a one-way ticket, buy myself a round-trip ticket, and see if she makes it back.
 
It’s a test. Not for the adventure, not for the destination. But for the real question: does she understand what it means to commit, to stand by your word, to carry your own weight? Can she handle being out there, in a place far from home, without running when things get tough?
 
It’s a gamble, but the truth always comes out when the stakes are real. And if she doesn’t make it home, I’ll know exactly who she was. And I’ll be better for it.

Here’s a guaranteed way to test if a girl is even remotely interested in you, ask her if she’s married or has a boyfriend.
 
If she says “no,” she might be lying, but that lie is revealing. It means she’s sizing you up. She sees potential. She’s keeping the door cracked open, just in case you’re worth her time.
 
If she says “yes,” she might still be lying, but one thing’s clear, she’s not interested in you. That answer is her escape hatch. It’s her polite rejection without confrontation. If she wanted you to pursue her, she wouldn’t bring up another man.
 
When I ask that question, I don’t care what the answer is. I don’t react. I flip the script. I congratulate her. If she says she’s single, I tell her she’s lucky to be strong, free, and independent. If she says she’s taken, I tell her she’s lucky to have a man willing to commit in a world full of women who burned that bridge.
 
Either way, it scrambles her expectations. She doesn’t get validation. She gets a mental curveball. No begging. No chasing. No approval-seeking. Just a cold reminder that I’m not auditioning for her. She’s being evaluated too.

I was watching a documentary on Scientology, the so-called religion created by science fiction writer L. Ron Hubbard. At one point, the IRS refused to recognize the Church of Scientology as a legitimate religion. They saw it for what it was: a cash machine disguising itself with spiritual packaging. The IRS accused them of fraudulently avoiding taxes and demanded $1.5 billion in back taxes and penalties.
 
But Scientology didn’t fold. They didn’t beg. They fought fire with fire. They launched an all-out legal war, filing over 2,500 lawsuits against the IRS in courts across America. It was a legal siege. One the IRS couldn’t afford to fight. Eventually, the pressure became too much, and the IRS surrendered, recognizing Scientology as a religion and granting it tax-exempt status.
 
Now ask yourself this, if an organization built on the writings of a sci-fi author can pull this off, why can’t men? Why can’t we band together and force the system to recognize the abuse, the alienation, the financial destruction inflicted by the family court machine?
 
Imagine 200,000 men, unified and strategic, filing lawsuits on the same day, targeting the corruption, the gender bias, the unconstitutional rulings, and the rights violations that happen daily in family courts. Not one lawsuit. Thousands. Not spread out. Coordinated.
 
The goal isn’t just to clog the system. It’s to expose it. To make it undeniable. To make it national news. Just like Scientology did to the IRS.
 
The first step? Organize. Build a legal framework. Crowdsource lawyers who are not afraid to confront the court structure. Fund the strategy through mass contribution. Choose the date. Strike together.
 
This isn’t fantasy. It’s precedent. The system doesn’t change because you ask. It changes when you make it cost too much to stay the same.

There is a deep-rooted problem with women who refer to men as a “provider.” They love the word but completely distort its meaning. To them, a provider isn’t a partner, it’s a servant. A full-time, around-the-clock ATM with emotional support on tap, attention on demand, and no room to breathe.
 
She wants you grinding 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, not to build a life together, but to fund her fantasy. And GOD forbid you focus on anything other than her. She expects you to be at her disposal no matter what you’re doing or what you’re dealing with.
 
1. If she’s not excited, you’re responsible for providing her with non-stop entertainment like a human amusement park.
 
2. If she’s unhappy, it’s your fault. You failed to deliver happiness on a silver platter, like a jester groveling before royalty.
 
3. Try telling her that happiness comes from within, and she’ll glare at you like you just told her she’s responsible for her own life. The horror.
 
4. If you’re not reaching her sky-high delusional goals fast enough, resentment sets in. Slowly. Quietly. She’ll begin to destroy what you love, not to hurt you directly, but to remind you that your joy can’t be allowed to outshine her.
 
I’ve seen this play out. Women destroying cars, businesses, reputations, even weaponizing the children, just to punish a man who failed to give them what no one on earth could promise: endless validation and joy.
 
One girl told me straight out that she hated her boyfriend so much she planned to destroy what he loved most. When I asked what that was, she looked me dead in the eye and said, “Me.” That’s how deep the spite runs. She was ready to ruin herself just to ruin him. I couldn’t even process what that entailed.
 
Another woman complained her marriage had no excitement, said it was ruining her life. I told her to find a hobby, a purpose, something to fulfill her. She snapped back, “That’s his job!” Like her soul was on lease and her husband was late on payments.
 
She ended up cheating with the man who brought her “excitement.” Her husband caught them. Now she’s divorced, and that second man vanished like smoke. Where’s the excitement now?
 
These types never initiate anything. They expect the world to move on its own if it’s “meant to be.” They cling to that phrase like gospel because it absolves them of action, effort, and accountability.
 
And when they destroy a man’s life? Don’t expect other women to call it out. Another woman will step in and say it’s the man’s fault for not stopping her. They move as a collective, defending dysfunction, never holding each other accountable.
 
It’s not love they want. It’s a life of royalty, funded, entertained, and shielded from responsibility. And when the illusion breaks, they burn everything on their way out.

Remember that February 14th is the day that women must show their love to men, because men built the world they live in. Men laid the foundations, erected the structures, installed the power, and made it all work. Men built the houses, the roofs, the walls, the windows, the plumbing, the gas lines, the electricity, the heat, the air conditioning. And when something breaks, it’s men who fix it. Not only do we perform the labor, we pay for the labor too.
 
Men invented everything they depend on. Cars, planes, boats, jets, radios, TVs, computers, software, phones, the internet. We improve on the work of the men who came before us, pushing the boundaries of strength, speed, and efficiency. Men built the roads, managed the sewage, hauled the garbage, purified the water, and made the power that runs this entire machine. Whether it’s nuclear, hydro, coal, gas or oil, a man engineered it.
 
Every single day men risk their lives to keep the world turning. We are the ones running into burning buildings, standing between criminals and the public, hanging off steel beams hundreds of feet in the air, hauling cargo across the country, flying the planes, navigating the seas, laying the tracks, and delivering the goods. If you’re safe, fed, and warm tonight, thank a man. Because a man made it happen.
 
Men do not need to buy roses, write poems, or jump through hoops to prove love. We have already proven it with every drop of sweat, every sleepless night, and every broken bone that made this world livable.
 
I look at the men in uniform and I thank them. They volunteered to die for strangers, including women who will never appreciate the cost. And yet, they serve with honor and without demand for applause.
 
Women owe men more than they care to admit. Not worship, but respect. Not indulgence, but acknowledgment. They were handed everything. Rights, freedoms, comforts, protections. All earned by men and gifted to women. They demand more, but they produce nothing. This imbalance is our fault and it must end.
 
Even Saint Valentine was a man who risked his life for others. He performed marriages illegally, knowing the penalty was death. That sacrifice, like every other male sacrifice, is taken for granted.
 
Valentine’s Day is not for women to collect. It is for women to give. To recognize the man that built her life and shielded her from ruin.
 
Say NO to Valentine’s Day until women learn to give back.

All my life I was told to find a nice woman and settle down. That was the goal society beat into my head. I spent 20 years searching. I tried it all. I even listened to that useless advice women love to give, “Stop looking, just let it happen.” They say that because they know damn well they’ll never initiate anything. They expect men to make the first move, every time, without exception.
 
And after two decades of observing, I’ve come to one undeniable conclusion, women are overgrown children. They don’t want reality, they want a fantasy. They want to be the star of a fairytale where they manufacture chaos and play the damsel in distress, then sit back and wait for some poor bastard to show up and fix it all.
 
This isn’t a theory. I’ve watched it play out like clockwork. In my sisters’ lives, my brothers’, cousins’, neighbors’, coworkers’, in college, on the streets, in the office, everywhere I turn. The same script. The same manipulative nonsense. The same entitled expectations.
 
I’ve been studying divorce since I was 9 years old. I’m 43 now. That’s over three decades of exposure to the raw truth. I’ve personally talked to men, dozens of them, for the last 25 years as they crawl through the wreckage of failed marriages. And every time, they’re blindsided. Clueless. Shellshocked by how cold, calculating, mean, vicious and vindictive the woman they loved became.
 
These men never saw it coming. But I did. Because I paid attention.
 
I’ve lived alone for 18 years. It’s been peaceful. Quiet. No one screaming. No one sabotaging my mind. No one blowing up my life for attention. Sure, life throws curveballs, but I face them with clarity and strength, not with someone clawing at my back while blaming me for the mess they made.
 
The fairytale is a lie. The damsel never needed saving. She just needed someone to destroy.

I’ve been single now for 17 years and in that time I’ve saved a mountain of money. But suddenly I feel this overwhelming urge to flush it all away by rescuing a single mother with two or three kids from different fathers.
 
Yeah, let me sign up to drain my savings paying for kids that aren’t mine. I want to cover their school fees, sports, new shoes, latest gadgets, and family vacations just so I can play daddy without a shred of authority. I want to buy another man’s kid their first car while the biological father pops in twice a month with a check and a smile.
 
Let me become the unpaid babysitter, the emotional punching bag, and the financial lifeline to a woman who already made her bed with multiple men before me. Let me raise the consequences of other men’s decisions while being told I have no say.
 
And while I’m at it, I’ll gladly let her crawl into my phone and delete pictures of any female relative she feels threatened by. Doesn’t matter if it’s my cousin in a prom dress or my niece at a pageant. If it’s a female and attractive, it’s gone.
 
Meanwhile, her ex’s ghost gets a front-row seat in my house. I get to see the proof of his orgasm every single day. He still haunts her, still shapes her mood, still dictates her schedule. I just pay the price.
 
This is the modern reward for a responsible man. Play hero to someone else’s story and get vilified for expecting respect.
 
No thanks.

An “independent woman” is a woman who makes her own money but refuses to love any man who makes even a dollar less than her.
 
She calls herself empowered while only chasing men richer than her. She claims she doesn’t need a man while lining up to sleep with gangsters, thugs, criminals, and pimps..
 
Then she expects a millionaire to come along and “accept her as she is”, burnt out, emotionally wrecked, carrying around a few STDs, a trail of abortions, or a couple of kids from different fathers.
 
By the time she hits her thirties, desperation takes over. Her standards nosedive. She starts pressuring any halfway decent guy to impregnate her. She rushes into marriage not out of love but because her biological clock is ticking like a bomb.
 
Independence turns into panic.
 
And yet no man ever goes around claiming to be “independent”.
 
Because real independence doesn’t need applause.

Women, there are three basic rules to keep a man happy.
 
1) Feed me.
 
2) Fuck me.
 
3) Leave me the hell alone.
 
Number 1 is optional. If you don’t feed him, he’ll make his own damn sandwich.
 
Number 2 is optional too. If you’re too tired or not in the mood, he’ll handle it himself in the shower.
 
But number 3, that one is **mandatory**.
 
If you nag him, badger him, complain about nonsense, pick fights over nothing, drown him in drama, and smother his peace of mind, he will leave. Not because he doesn’t love you, but because **you destroyed the one thing he valued most, peace**.
 
You wonder why a father walks out on a beautiful daughter and his own flesh and blood.
 
Ask the woman who drove him to it.
 
Ask the woman who turned the home into a battlefield.
 
Ask the woman who weaponized his love and turned it against him.
 
Men don’t walk away from their families without a reason.
 
They walk away when the alternative is to be emotionally crushed while everyone tells them to “man up” and stay miserable.

Whenever you hear a love song by a man, he’s not begging to be loved, he’s not pleading to be worshipped, he’s pouring out something he already has, his love. The direction of love flows from the man to the woman. He’s the source, she’s the recipient. His songs confess, tell stories, express pain, and reveal loss. He gives, he remembers, he bleeds.
 
Modern women flip the script. Their songs are not about giving love, they’re about demanding it. Wanting it. Needing it. The direction reverses. It isn’t from them, it’s toward them. They don’t love, they wait to be loved. They treat love like a prize they deserve for existing.
 
Whitney Houston’s song makes it obvious. “I Wanna Dance With Somebody Who Loves Me” isn’t a song of devotion, it’s a plea to be adored. She doesn’t want to love someone, she wants to be the object of love. The man is secondary. The focus is her emotional hunger.
 
Yes, she also sang “I Will Always Love You,” but Dolly Parton wrote that decades earlier. And that song stands out because it’s rare. It’s not the trend. The trend is women singing about what they lack, what they crave, what they expect. It’s a growing pattern in the last 50 years. Female artists aren’t expressing love, they’re expressing entitlement to it.
 
I saw this mentality firsthand. In high school and college, girls openly said they wanted to have babies so the baby could love them. They didn’t talk about loving the baby, they talked about needing the baby to fix the hole in their heart. They placed emotional responsibility on a newborn.
 
Men don’t think like this. A man knows love requires action. If he wants to feel love, he gives it. He plays with his child, shows affection, bonds through time and energy. That act of giving creates connection. It transforms him. That’s why he feels love.
 
Many women don’t give love to the child. They expect love from the child. And when that love flows toward the father, jealousy kicks in. The mother feels left out. Not because she was mistreated, but because the child naturally bonded with the one who gave. She sees it as betrayal. She punishes both the father and the child for not orbiting around her.
 
That’s what modern women get wrong. They think love is something they’re supposed to receive. They think being loved is a right. But love doesn’t come to those who demand it. It grows in those who give it.
 
Until women stop chasing love like it’s oxygen and start becoming loving themselves, they will stay trapped in emptiness, waiting for someone else to do the work they refuse to do.

I have opened my eyes and realized I need to join the struggle for women to be free and truly independent. I believe women are equal to men in value and ability.
 
In fact, I believe they should receive equal pay. No, they should be paid more than men. But they aren’t getting the pay they deserve, not because they aren’t capable, but because the system deliberately locks them out.
 
I look up and down my street every day and I see a country rotting from the inside. I see misogyny thriving in plain sight while everyone looks the other way.
 
Trucks deliver packages daily, but where are the women drivers? You mean to tell me UPS, FedEx, and the USPS can’t find a single qualified woman? No, they **refuse** to. They gatekeep those jobs under the table while pretending otherwise. They don’t want women to have stable, productive careers like men do. That’s not a coincidence. That’s a policy.
 
And that’s just the tip of the iceberg, an iceberg large enough to sink not just a ship, but a country full of empty equality slogans.
 
I stayed home one afternoon waiting for my cable to be installed. The installer was a man. I kept quiet, but I asked myself, “Where are the women workers?”.
 
I asked my friends. They said the same. Verizon, Optimum, Time Warner, all sent male installers. All of them. Every time.
 
One neighbor had his basement redone, another had a roof repaired. All-male crews. A male plumber fixed my bathroom. A male electrician fixed my friend’s home. The pattern was clear.
 
So I called around. Plumbers, electricians, contractors. Some companies had a woman answer the phone, and that’s where it ended. When I asked if a woman could do the work, the answer was a firm “No.” Some even laughed. That laugh is proof of the gatekeeping.
 
Let’s call it what it is. Companies across America are locking out half the population. They give women just enough visibility to be tokens, receptionists, phone clerks, front desk decorations.
 
To call that equality is an insult.
 
Giving women the easiest jobs imaginable and calling it “employment” is a joke. These are roles that could be filled by an eighth grader. Meanwhile, skilled trades are treated like men-only zones.
 
And it’s not just in trades. Watch the news. MSNBC, FOX, all of them put women on camera as anchors while their production teams remain male-dominated. It’s a façade.
 
You think the court system is balanced because you see Judge Judy and Judge Jeanine on TV? Don’t be fooled. Behind the curtain, male judges still dominate. Those women are props, not proof.
 
Go to a restaurant. You’ll see a female hostess, maybe a waitress or bartender. But step into the kitchen, it’s a man’s world back there. Women aren’t even allowed to cook in a damn restaurant.
 
And speaking of cooking, why are all the celebrity chefs men? Gordon Ramsay, Wolfgang Puck, Jamie Oliver. The media force-feeds you male names while burying the few successful women like Rachael Ray. That’s not market demand, that’s manipulation.
 
In New York City’s Transit Authority, train conductors and motormen, yes, **motormen**, are almost entirely men. The title alone spits in women’s faces. Same goes for the buses. Go to Port Authority. Watch 50 buses roll in. Not one driven by a woman.
 
Taxis? All men. Uber and Lyft? Still mostly men. You think women don’t want to drive? No, they aren’t **encouraged**. The system never invited them in.
 
Try finding a female mechanic. Go ahead. Try. Sears, Pep Boys, all the garages, wall-to-wall men. Women are deliberately shut out.
 
Garbage trucks? All men. NYPD? Mostly men. Fire Department? Same. This is **intentional exclusion**, and it’s erased from the headlines.
 
Feminist groups say women make 77 cents on the dollar. I say that number is **generous**. Women aren’t just underpaid, they’re **blocked** from the high-paying jobs completely.
 
And when you confront these agencies, they say women need “encouragement.” No. What women need is **access**. What they need is **justice**.
 
Meanwhile, men are funneled into trades, tech, and law enforcement while women are funneled into porn, modeling, and reception work. One path leads to income and power. The other leads to objectification and dependency.
 
You want to help? Start voting with your wallet. Get your car fixed at a shop that hires women. Eat at restaurants where women work behind the scenes. Refuse to take a cab unless a woman is driving.
 
Boycott the institutions that blacklist women from real employment.
 
And then maybe, just maybe, women won’t need to fight for alimony, child support, Section 8, food stamps, and disability.
 
Maybe then they won’t need shelters.
 
They’ll have jobs.
 
They’ll have careers.
 
They’ll have **independence that means something**.
 
But that only happens if we burn down this rigged system and build one that doesn’t treat half the population like background noise.

Why is it that every time I explain why I’ve been single for so many years, some woman twists it into me hating women.
 
When I point out that **women** have treated **men** with hatred, disrespect, and manipulation, they flip it. They project. They gaslight. They tell me I’m bitter. They tell me I hate women.
 
No, I don’t hate women. I hate the **behavior**.
 
I hate the entitlement.
 
I hate the double standards.
 
I hate the culture that tells men to give everything and expect nothing.
 
But instead of listening, instead of taking a second to self-reflect, they go for the kill.
 
“Maybe you should be gay”.
 
Let me get this straight, women treat men like garbage, mock their pain, ignore their suffering, and when a man says “enough,” the solution is for him to suck a dick.
 
That’s their logic.
 
That’s how fragile their egos are.
 
They’d rather shame a man into silence than admit their behavior is the reason men are walking away.
 
You want to know why I’m single? Because I’d rather be alone than trapped in a relationship where I have to apologize for noticing the truth.
 
I didn’t become this way because I hate women.
 
I became this way because I loved them too much for too long and got nothing but contempt in return.

There is an article on the Internet titled “Dating: 10 Things Men Don’t Do Anymore”.
 
https://ift.tt/0Rl6yoI
 
It lists 10 things men do not do anymore on or for dates. And they are:.
 
1. Men don’t accept rejection anymore.
 
2. Men don’t make phone calls anymore.
 
3. Men don’t buy drinks anymore.
 
4. Men don’t ask women to dance anymore.
 
5. Men don’t give meaningful compliments anymore.
 
6. Men don’t work at impressing anymore.
 
7. Men don’t show up at your door with a gift/token anymore.
 
8. Men don’t take charge of dating plans anymore.
 
9. Men don’t ask women out in advance anymore.
 
10. Men don’t ask women on dates anymore.
 
I’ve come up with my list of 10 things that women do not do anymore..
 
1. Women will never tell you whose child you are raising, At the dawn of the 21st century, we are now finding out that women have more affairs than previously believed. With DNA testing, we find that some men are raising children that are not even theirs. Some conservative estimates state that 30–35% of fathers today are raising another man’s child, unbeknownst to either of the men..
 
2. Women do not keep their families together, In this age of disposable razors, lighters, pens, diapers, etc., women found a way to dispose of the most important man in their child’s life for any minuscule reason they can think of, and they will have the backing of the Family Courts’ anti-masculine agenda to cut a man to pieces just because that man is imperfect for her immediate needs..
 
3. Women are not forgiving, 80% of all divorces in America today are initiated by females. Make no mistake, forgiveness is not part of their plan. That plan includes taking everything you own (children included), and they will stop at nothing to ruin your life with false rape and domestic violence accusations if you do not meet their exact expectations..
 
4. Women do not cook, It was once said that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, but that line of thinking is gone. Once a woman places the dehumanizing label of “provider” on you or gets you to agree to “take care of her,” she will take that to mean that you provide for her every need, want, and desire, and that includes food, clothes, happiness, and excitement when she wants it and how she wants it. Every man would kill or die for a woman who gave him a warm meal at the end of a hard day, but that is too hard for today’s woman..
 
5. Women do not partner with strong, masculine, and moral men, Goodbye John Wayne and hello to Joey, Chandler, and Ross. Women also like the meanest and nastiest men around. They have love affairs with murderers, rapists, thugs, and criminals. In fact, when there is a high-profile murderer or rapist on the news who just got arrested, women will waste no time writing love letters to that man..
 
6. Women do not contribute to the household expenses, If you talk to any married woman and you get to the point where she talks about finances, she will inevitably say that there is “her money” (the money she acquired, even if it was from his wallet), and there is “our money” (the money that he works hard to make). If the hot water heater is broken and there is no money in “our” bank account to fix it, even if she has enough of “her” money to fix it, there are going to be some cold showers in the household’s future..
 
7. Women have no shame, Once upon a time, women were shamed for having a child out of wedlock, being divorced, or even being caught in another man’s bed other than her husband’s. Now these things are the source of a woman’s pride and attention. Single motherhood, divorce, receiving welfare, and having multiple children from multiple men are badges of honor for today’s woman..
 
8. Women do not work, Nearly 60 years have passed since the feminist movement of the 1960s, and women still do not work. Sure, they will take the part-time, minimum wage job, but they will not even try to be ambitious or do their share to bring in money for the household. If they make more money than their husband, that is grounds for divorce in her eyes. During WWII, women worked in factories building ships, tanks, and planes for their men at war. In the pre-industrial revolution, a woman scrubbed the floors, washed dishes by hand, washed clothes on a washboard by hand, chopped wood for fire, and made bread, breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Today’s woman wants a provider to pamper her in luxury to the point that he needs two and even three jobs to pay for it..
 
9. Women do not take care of their children, Today’s statistics show that 75% of all convicted criminals in prison today come from a single-mother home. What kind of morals are being instilled by a mother to her child without the father’s influence? It seems that, for the most part, women only care about themselves, and the care they give to their kids ends up being responsible for America’s ultra-high prison population..
 
10. Women are not loving, When a man comes home from work, instead of a hot meal, a change of clothes, and a shoulder rub after a hard day, a woman will complain about how hard her life was, give her worn-out husband orders to take out the trash, order up food, and sweep the leaves..
 
It’s no wonder why men now are doing their own thing for themselves and leaving selfish, self-centered women behind..

In these times, women in the Western world are the unhappiest of all.
 
They scream empowerment while drowning in misery. They chant independence while blaming everyone else for their emptiness. They feel unfulfilled. They feel unaccomplished. And instead of taking responsibility for their lives they turn to the man they labeled as their personal “provider” and dump the blame on him.
 
The same man they chased. The same man they pressured into marriage. The same man they promised to love. Now he’s the scapegoat for their misery because he couldn’t fill the void they refuse to fix themselves.
 
Their dependency on impossible expectations is so deep that they lose all drive to build anything of their own. They want fulfillment handed to them like a luxury item. No effort. No growth. No sacrifice. Just demand after demand directed at the man they expect to fix their lives.
 
They place every want every need every fantasy and insecurity on that provider. If it’s not given instantly he is labeled inadequate. And instead of working for what they claim to want they’ll just search for another provider to leech off of. Wash rinse replace.
 
They sit back and strip themselves of every ounce of responsibility. They expect results without effort. Rewards without labor. Success without sacrifice. They demand outcomes they’ve never earned and play the victim when it doesn’t arrive at their feet.
 
I’ve heard it all.
 
“I’m not happy”.
 
That’s the death sentence women deliver to end marriages to destroy families to burn men alive in divorce court. The unspoken message is clear, “My provider didn’t deliver the happiness I expected him to provide”.
 
Not once does she say, “I didn’t put in the work.” Not once does she say, “I gave up.” No ownership. Just blame.
 
I would love to see truly independent women. Not the fake Instagram kind with their dad’s credit card and OnlyFans account. I mean truly independent.
 
Independent from me.
 
Independent from men.
 
Independent from the government.
 
Independent from their parents.
 
Independent from alimony.
 
Independent from welfare.
 
Show me a woman who doesn’t need a paycheck from an ex-husband or a government handout to function and I’ll finally call that equality.

It does not matter how much money you have, the woman that you select (she really selects you) will find a way to accuse you of wrongdoing while she calls the lawyers (The modern-day Philistines to your Delilah), the police and judges to take your money and take away your kids because men are treated as the second-class citizens.
 
The icon of music history, Sir Paul McCartney, whose net worth is estimated at $1.2 billion married a one-legged woman who waited until she had a child to break up her child with an amazing man. I never really liked The Beatles but nobody can deny Paul’s contribution to history.
 
Most of us men, including me, would not mind living and raising a child with a woman as iconic as he is. What did this skank do? She alienated her child for a few pieces of silver and went right over to Rupert Murdock with her pickaxe, shovel and a bulk of Paul’s money.
 
Fuck Rupert Murdock for enabling that whore for making that kid have a temporary father and a surrogate father just to get a piece of one-legged ass.
 
Paul’s ex-wife is a parasite, a leach, a blood-sucking vampire whose only accomplishment is the capturing of other men’s accomplishments.
 
I remember saying this about my own mother, “I know all the names of my mom’s past boyfriends but I never had the chance to know my own dad.”
 
It took me 40 plus years to reunite with my dad. He is a pain in the ass, always nagging me to get a girlfriend and get married. His third wife is a dream. My half-brothers are cool too. I wish I had a dad during grade school and high school.
 
I never wanted to be another kid’s temporary dad until mommy finds a better man. That’s why I steer clear from single moms. If they are not forgiving to the most important man in their child’s life, what can she do to me?