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.
