The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen
TheXYGhost = The Missing Man
MGTOW = Men Going Their Own Way
MGHOW = Men Going His Own Way
TheXYGhost - The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen
“When a woman and male feminists, can’t present a cogent argument based in facts, statistics or logic they resort to Shame, Insult, Guilt and the Need to be right (S.I.G.N.Language)”
-Kevin Samuels
“The Godfather”
Women define themselves by how they perceive their partner’s worth and status. They constantly compare their situation to the lives of other women in their sphere of influence.
With absolutely no regard for his needs, a woman will place all of her needs, wants, and desires, real or imaginary, entirely on that partner to fulfill.
Without his knowledge or consent, she silently appoints him as the one responsible for satisfying her in every possible way without offering a single clue about what she actually wants.
He is expected to just know. If he doesn’t, then “it wasn’t meant to be.”
If he fails to meet her ever-shifting, unrealistic expectations, she will begin to look at him as if he betrayed her. And then she will act like he did.
“A woman can run faster and longer with her dress up than a man ever could with his pants down.”
Do not get caught with your pants down. The moment you are distracted, vulnerable, or thinking with anything other than your mind, you give her the advantage. That is when she strikes, when you are least ready to defend yourself.
Keep your focus. Keep your guard. Never let lust or flattery blind you to the reality of the situation. Because when she runs, she will run with everything she can take from you, and you will be left standing there, wondering how you let it happen.
Back in 2001, I met a man named Chris whose wife had just walked out on him days earlier. Chris was a food and beverage manager at a hotel in New York City. He lived in a three-family house where his 81-year-old mother lived alone in one apartment while Chris lived with his wife and two sons in another. The third apartment was rented out to another family.
Chris was devastated. He cried constantly and blamed himself for his wife’s actions. She blamed him too. Every evening after work, I met up with him to help him process the wreckage she left behind. She took the money. She took the kids. She took his peace. The only thing she couldn’t take was the house because it was under his mother’s name. But she still tried.
The court eventually awarded Chris fifty-fifty custody. His sons stayed with him almost every weekend because their mother found a weekend job. But none of that softened her venom. She laughed in his face. She told him she would find a better man. She mocked him for years, claiming he never loved her, that he would never change.
Chris told me there was a time when his wife nearly died giving birth. He didn’t leave her side for days. He slept in a chair at the hospital. He did everything he knew how to do as a husband. Yet now he was left asking, “How could she do this to me after all that I did for her?”
She remarried within a year. Every time she saw Chris, she made sure to flaunt her new husband in his face. But her little victory parade didn’t last long. Eight months later, she drained the new husband’s bank account and left him too.
Years passed. Chris sold the house after his mother passed away. He bought a beautiful condominium where he lived with his two sons and a new girlfriend. His boys are now in college, building their own futures.
Today, Chris called me. Seventeen years since we first met. He told me he ran into his ex-wife on the street. She couldn’t even look him in the eye. She hung her head in shame as they passed each other. Later, Chris found out through mutual friends that she had stolen from her second husband, moved to Florida, and spent every dime. She ended up living in a trailer park, but even that became too expensive. She returned to New York City and now sleeps in a women’s homeless shelter.
Chris thanked me for standing by him in the beginning. He said, “You were right. She got hers in the end.”
You shout that you are independent and that you do not need a man. You say it with pride because the world feels stable and safe around you. But here is the truth. Your comfort was not built by words. It was built by calloused hands you never see.
Independence is a luxury that exists because men built the world beneath your feet.
Men laid the concrete you walk on.
Men raised the buildings that protect you from the cold.
Men wired the electricity that lights up your home.
Men dug the trenches that deliver your water and carry away your waste.
Men defend the borders that keep your freedom possible.
You can only ignore men because men have never stopped doing the work.
This is the real structure of civilization:
• 99% of loggers are men• 98% of carpenters are men• 97% of roofers are men• 97% of fishermen are men• 97% of demolition and explosives technicians are men• 97% of all mechanics are men• 96% of iron and steel workers are men• 96% of construction workers are men• 96% of welders are men• 96% of firefighters are men• 95% of electricians are men• 95% of plumbers are men• 95% of oil rig workers are men• 95% of linemen are men• 94% of HVAC professionals are men• 94% of train operators are men• 94% of deep sea divers are men• 93% of sanitation workers are men• 93% of paramedics and EMTs are men• 92% of dock workers are men• 92% of forklift operators are men• 92% of corrections officers are men• 91% of truck drivers are men• 91% of mechanical engineers are men• 90% of machine operators are men• 90% of pilots are men• 90% of miners are men• 95% of front line combat soldiers are men
These are the jobs that keep humanity alive.These are the men who stop the world from falling apart.
You can say you are independent. You are independent because men deliver your food before hunger ever reaches you. You are independent because men repair the power lines before your home goes dark. You are independent because when the world catches fire men run forward instead of running away. That is the foundation you stand on.
And when danger comes the truth appears fast.You do not need a man until the floodwaters rise.You do not need a man until the earthquake rips the walls apart.You do not need a man until the hurricane tears the city to pieces.You do not need a man until the tornado turns your street into ruins.You do not need a man until the fire devours everything you thought you controlled.
Then the voice changes.Then you call for the same men you said you did not need.
When the boat is sinking independence disappears.The first to demand rescueThe first to be savedThe first to be protectedAre the ones who said they do not rely on anyone
Because survival does not listen to slogans.It listens to strength.It listens to courage.It listens to those who step into danger while others step away.
So yes call yourself independent. Enjoy the safety men provide. Enjoy the food men transport. Enjoy the heat men generate. Enjoy the comfort men maintain. That is your right and men do not complain about their duty.
But never forget this truth.Independence that only exists in safety is not independence.It is stability borrowed from the men who never stop holding the line.
They say I do not know women. They say I am jaded because of one divorce. They could not be more wrong.
I have had more girlfriends than I care to admit. I never cheated on any of them, yet I was accused multiple times. I never hit a woman I was with. The few I have hit were strangers and it was self-defense.
By the time I was sixteen, I had three affairs with my high school teachers. At the time, I thought it was pathetic because no girl my age wanted me and I was stuck with women in their late twenties, which to a sixteen year old was ancient.
Three women claimed I got them pregnant. One was cleared with an old school paternity test in the 1980s. One was cleared by racial reality, I am not Black and neither was she, yet the child was. One was cleared with DNA.
Rumors spread that one girlfriend had an abortion and said it was mine. Another told me outright she aborted my child. One woman even put my name on a birth certificate when I had never touched her or even known her last name. The family court case died after they found she had petitioned the Board of Health multiple times to change the father’s name to different men.
Four girlfriends had single mothers who openly hit on me. When I refused, each one told their daughter I hit on them. Four to six of my friends’ girlfriends made advances on me. I turned them down and lost the friends. One girlfriend’s aunt hit on me, I said no, and that was that.
Two of my exes were secretly married. I found out later. I dated two single mothers. Both were disasters. Four exes told me they had affairs with their stepfathers. That is why I say never date a single mother with a daughter.
Three women accused me of rape, never formally, including my ex wife who claimed, two weeks before serving me divorce papers, that our first time together before marriage was rape. If you believe that, then you believe I raped her and then she married me.
I dated a famous 1970s singer when I was twenty two and she was thirty eight. I was involved with a rock star when she was in high school and I was in college. I dated an actress whose parents were both famous. I was with a woman who was the unspoken love child of a New York Attorney General who later became mayor and ran for president in 2008. I dated a Victoria’s Secret model. I dated a woman worth $40 million who dumped me because I could not keep up with her vacation schedule.
Between 2011 and 2014, fourteen women asked me to marry them. Ten admitted they wanted green cards. Three did not admit it. The last one was crazy. I was fifty three at the time.
In the 1980s I worked for a famous New York club promoter at Studio 54, Tracks, Xenon, The Red Parrot, The Underground, The Palladium, and others. I had a public access TV show filmed in these clubs. I had my pick of women. Two girlfriends were great but returned to Germany. Maybe they were the ones who got away.
My mother was a single mom by 1967. She and my sister tried to dominate me at every turn. I met my father at fourteen and grew to like him when I reunited with him at forty eight. My sister had three kids from three men and destroyed every man in her path.
I ran my own escort service while working an office job, with three girls going out one or two nights a week, five to six days a week. I worked as a phone psychic for two and a half years, taking twenty to thirty calls a day, seven days a week. Ninety five percent of the callers were women asking if one man loved them while they planned to leave another.
This is not jaded from one woman. This is decades of firsthand knowledge of who women are when the mask comes off.
Question 1
What would make someone worth your life and your paycheck?
Question 2
Can you name one song where a woman declares unconditional love for a man?
Question 3
Is a working wife building the family’s wealth, or hoarding her own escape fund?
Question 4
How have women thanked you for providing, protecting, and sacrificing?
Question 5
If you stopped supporting her, how much would she claim you owe?
Question 6
If she left over your flaws, how much would she still demand?
Question 7
When has a woman sacrificed for you the way you’ve sacrificed for her?
Question 8
If love is real, why does it collapse when comfort disappears?
Question 9
Why does her loyalty vanish the moment her benefits stop?
Question 10
If you stopped giving tomorrow, what would remain between you?
Question 11
How many women stayed out of gratitude, not opportunity?
Question 12
Without your money, shelter, and protection, what proof of love would remain?
If men stopped offering free services to women for a year, women would be begging men to be with them. They rely on what men provide, and without it, their world would fall apart.
• Stop helping them.
• Stop taking care of them.
• Stop explaining how the world works.
• Stop paying their bills.
• Stop fixing their problems.
No attitude needed. Just stop all free assistance.
That is the strike that would break them because if they can’t run to a man for help, their world will collapse.
To get this message out and accelerate collective success, men need to unite and hold firm boundaries. Share this truth openly in conversations, online communities, and social circles. Encourage accountability and stop enabling dependency.
Collective awareness and consistent action will shift the dynamic.
Long before MGTOW was even a term, I was already pointing out women’s behavior. I would talk to men, and some would agree, some wouldn’t. Some got defensive. Most mental health workers, psychiatrists, social workers, would tell me I needed help, as if there was no difference in how men and women behave. Women would either lash out in anger or get defensive and try to discredit everything I said.
They would almost always default to the same two lines, “Not all women are like that” and “You’re the one who picked those women.” It was a scripted defense, designed to protect the collective female image by flipping the blame back on me. It felt like talking to a mafia member denying the mafia even exists.
After hearing this same deflection over and over, I started preparing. I would carry a piece of paper with those two phrases written on it, “Not all women are like that” and “You’re the one who picked them.” Sometimes I would pause mid conversation just to write it down, other days I carried index cards ready to go. When they repeated those exact words, I would show them the paper and ask, “If not all women are like this, why do you all repeat the exact same script every single time?”
NAWALT, Not All Women Are Like That, is the knee jerk reflex most women use the moment you expose their behavior. Ironically, every time they say it, they prove AWALT, All Women Are Like That.
If I tell you I no longer want you to feed me or support me, what exactly would I owe you? Nothing. Yet in her mind, the moment she walks away, you still owe her. If she rejects your support because she found one imperfection in you, she still believes she’s entitled to take something on her way out, your money, your possessions, even your peace.
Can you name even one song where a woman sincerely professes her love for a man, without conditions, without self-promotion, without turning it into her personal empowerment anthem? Outside of Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You” and Tammy Wynette’s “Stand By Your Man,” the examples are almost non-existent. That silence speaks louder than a thousand choruses.
If she can control her mood swings, tantrums and emotional outbursts at work or around family, why is it that she unleashes them all on you? It’s because she respects them more than she respects you. You’re her emotional punching bag because she thinks you’ll never walk away.
Is a woman entitled to free meals, gifts and entertainment from any man as long as she’s attractive? And when her beauty fades, is she still entitled to his money anyway? Ask yourself how many working wives actually build the family’s future with their earnings, and how many secretly stash it away to buy their freedom from the man who carried them from the start.
What would someone have to do for you to make you willing to protect them with your life and break your back paying their bills? If the answer is “love me,” then how exactly did the women in your past thank you for the wining, dining, protecting and providing? Too often, that thanks comes in the form of boredom, resentment, or a list of demands you never signed up for.
Watch closely, women often start resenting their man around the time their youngest child turns four or five, or after three years with no kids. The pattern is there if you’re willing to see it. And once you see it, you’ll stop wondering what you owe, and start asking why you were expected to owe it in the first place.
I look at the girls of today that they can’t keep their legs closed and they blame you that its your fault that you didn’t give them enough attention while you were working.
“Men who live without self control are the kind of men who cry when their girlfriend cheats on them, ’cause she certainly does, because she doesn’t respect a little cry baby, and she’s only with you because she’s ugly as fuck and she has to settle for a little soy boy pussy like you.”
-Andrew Tate
Top “G”
Today I argued with my eighty one year old father.
My father and mother separated when I was four. I lived with my unstable mother until the age of ten, then moved to Europe to live with my retired grandparents until I was fourteen. When I returned to America, I was told my father had been found. My mother had hidden us from him, poisoning my mind with hatred toward him, and I believed her.
Years later, my mother’s behavior became unbearable. I moved in with my father, but the hate I had been taught still lived in me, through no fault of his own. I graduated high school, left for college, quit, and got my own apartment while working for my father. I still carried the same resentment.
Eventually my father remarried and had two sons. No one pushed me aside, but I felt like an outsider in his new family. So I left and never looked back.
Sixteen years later, I reconnected with my brothers on Facebook, leading to a tearful reunion. By that time I was divorced, and I understood my father better. The hate had disappeared, somewhere after my mother’s death.
Over the years I visited my father, stepmother, and brothers regularly. But every visit came with the same questions from him:
“How’s your love life?”
“Any new romances?”
“Anyone new in your life?”
“Met anyone at work?”
“I married at forty six, there’s still hope for you.”
“Your grandfather married at fifty three, there’s still hope for you.”
“My tenant thinks you’re good looking.”
Every single visit was one of those same lines. It wore me down. Eventually my older half brother joined in with his own lectures. I shrugged it off for years until one day, walking through a mall, my father asked again. I snapped.
“What’s with the questions? Do you think I’m gay? What’s wrong with me? What do you want me to do to make you happy?” I shouted, making it clear that I was single and staying that way.
The very next day, he asked again. It was like he had not heard a word I said.
When I got home, I sent him several of my articles and followed with a text:
Maybe one day you and Billy will stop calling me gay.”
He told me not to be ridiculous. I told him straight, the lectures and hints hurt me. I did not care what his tenant thought of me. I was done being poked at. You cannot keep pushing a tiger and not expect it to bite.
I reminded him that I had already been with enough psychotic girlfriends who saw me only as a provider. I was not going back to that insanity. Yes, I know the tired line, “Not all women are like that,” followed by the accusation that it is my fault for picking them. My answer is simple. I will not pick them anymore.
I cut out people who nag me about being single. I do not want to have to cut out my father. I have been with too many women. I only wanted one. I am not jumping back into the fire. Women with multiple children from multiple men, with histories of abortions and STDs, are not for me. Entitled women who expect the world from me have no place in my life. I was not put here to be a woman’s meal ticket.
He said he would not mention it again. I told him please, keep that promise.
Later I apologized for blowing up, explaining that it is a sensitive subject for me. He accepted my apology. I told him I value the time we have together and do not want it to end. He told me it ends when he passes on, and that I will still have my siblings and his wife. I told him there will be time.
Women do not rely on analytical reasoning to make most of their choices. If analytical thinking were their strength, we would see them dominating in fields like software development, mechanical engineering, mathematics, and physics. But they don’t. According to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, women make up less than 20 percent of software developers and less than 10 percent of mechanical engineers. Not because of discrimination, because of disinterest and inability to engage in abstract systems level thinking for sustained periods.
Instead of calculating value based on merit or logic, most women rely on social proof. That’s why a man with a wedding ring is instantly more attractive. Not because of anything he says or does, but because another woman has already done the thinking for her. That ring signals he’s a provider, a protector, and possibly good in bed. In reality, it just means he’s already been screened and validated by another woman. That’s all it takes.
The same man alone in a club is invisible. Surrounded by beautiful women, he becomes irresistible. Nothing changed about him. Only their perception of what others think of him changed. This is herd thinking. And it’s not rare. It’s constant. You see it at every level, friends, family, coworkers, celebrities, politicians. The moment a man gains female attention, more women follow. They don’t investigate who he is. They imitate what others have already approved.
Even men with multiple baby mamas, clear evidence of poor decision making, get labeled as desirable. Why? Because women interpret multiple partners as proof of value. They ignore the dysfunction and chase the signal. A man who is clearly irresponsible is seen as high status simply because others have chosen him.
Women do not have to think when another woman has already done it for them. That is the core of the attraction. Not logic. Not depth. Just the illusion of value based on external validation.
I was working in this large government agency in NYC in the computer lab with a female coworker. She was OK, maybe because I kept my distance from her.
We needed an assistant and hired a man that was just let go from Montclair State University. You see, his previous manageress and part time tyrant called him useless every chance she had. I remember the first day he showed up for work in his tie and white shirt, I told him to dress down. The computer lab was in a remote building far away from anyone ever seeing us. The next day he showed up in khakis and a dress shirt, I insisted that he dress down further. After all, I was in jeans and a teeshirt every day. By his third day, he was wearing jeans.
I quickly knew that this job was way below his capabilities and told him so before the end of his first week. The look of shock on his face was a combination of “Is he going to fire me because I’m over qualified?” and “I never thought I was so valuable.”
Needless to say, we bonded instantly. He introduced me to an “Open Source” programming language and we would talk about relationships and our respective single moms. It was amazing how his psycho mom was so much like mine in many ways.
As luck would have it, a few short months later, my manager was fired by the project leader and upper management was upset that the project leader didn’t hire a replacement before firing my manager. With a little quick thinking, the project manager said he did hire someone for my manager’s job. Now my assistant became my manager.
I was OK with his new position, he had to dress the part and deal with the real idiots, the executives. He immediately apologized for his quick promotion and I laughed, congratulating him for doing a job I would have refused. Over the years, we had a very great friend manager relationship. He politely did his job and I respected his position all while being friends.
Years went by and the project ended. I went my way and he went his. He ended up working for this technology firm starting salary $240,000 a year plus bonus and stock options. This was a far cry from useless his previous manager would have him believe.
The funny part of the story is that his previous manager in MSU got fired herself and moved back to Ohio where she is the assistant manager of a local supermarket.
So you want a man who will kill for you or die for you.
You want him to break his back working day and night just so you can eat well dress nice live in comfort and bathe in gifts you didn’t earn.
He’s your provider your butler your emotional tampon your therapist your punching bag. You expect him to fix your broken soul like that’s part of his job description. If you’re unhappy he’s to blame. If you’re miserable it’s because he failed. You take zero responsibility for your own life.
When he gets home from working himself into the grave you hand him your Honey Do List. A list of demands. A list of chores. A list of unpaid labor you won’t touch because your hands were too busy getting manicured with his money. You had time for your spa day your massage your girls’ brunch. But no time to lift a damn finger around the house.
And while he’s sweating over a leaky sink or broken cabinet you’re on the phone ordering food with his money because your feminism has evolved into full-blown laziness. Cooking is sexist now. Cleaning is beneath you.
He needs your permission to see his friends while you go out whenever you want. If he questions your freedom you label him controlling and start texting your divorce lawyer behind his back. You treat loyalty like oppression and his boundaries like abuse.
If he cheats and in your world that includes looking at a waitress or replying “thank you” to a woman’s compliment you burn his life to the ground. You take his kids his home his paycheck. You turn child support into vanity money and alimony into your personal lifestyle fund. The kids become bargaining chips you weaponize.
But when you cheat it’s his fault. He didn’t love you right. He didn’t give enough. He didn’t make you feel like a goddess every second of the day. You justify your betrayal then sue him for everything he built. You give his children to a stranger and pretend he’s the new father because your ego thinks it’s a queen that hands out titles.
You want a man to spend hundreds on dates hundreds on gifts and thousands on a ring. After bleeding him dry you want a wedding that costs more than his annual salary. And when he’s drowning in debt just to please you you still look down on him like he’s lucky to have you.
You want him to get down on one knee like a slave and beg for the right to serve you forever. Holding a diamond ransom to buy your fake affection. You want a servant not a husband.
No thanks.
Find another brain-dead ATM who thinks servitude is romance. Another spineless wallet who’ll jump through hoops while you size up your next upgrade.
I’m not your plan B.
I don’t kneel.
I don’t serve.
I run my own life.
She rejects, mocks, and ridicules any man who approaches her, yet she depends on those approaches to feed her self-worth. Every glance, every compliment, every attempt to connect is validation that she still has value. The more men approach, the more powerful she feels. The irony is that she will even reject men she finds attractive, because turning them down boosts her sense of superiority. Her ego swells with every dismissal.
She hides behind predictable routines of home, work, and school, waiting for her perfect Prince Charming to seek her out, discover her, and rescue her from her own monotony. She refuses to initiate any form of relationship, convincing herself that making the first move would mean forcing something that is not “meant to be.”
In social settings, even when she has her eye on a man in the room, she refuses to act directly. Instead, she adjusts her clothes, flips her hair, and shifts her posture in a silent plea for attention. She treats these subtle gestures as effort, expecting him to notice, approach, and pursue. If no one does, she leaves the event irritated, blaming men for not “stepping up.”
She will even avoid eye contact or any gesture that might make her interest obvious. And if, by some rare chance, the man she desires approaches her and initiates contact, she still finds a reason to reject him. Maybe he spoke too soon, waited too long, stood too close, or said the wrong words. No matter the reason, she frames it as proof that he did not approach her the “right way,” preserving her throne while keeping every man beneath it.
Question : What is the only fraud in the United States that is not punishable by law, yet can drain you of tens or even hundreds of thousands of dollars over twenty years?
Answer : Paternity fraud.
There is no punishment for it, and no man ever gets his money back.
Women, and women only, decide with which man they will procreate. They hold all the cards.
If she is with a man she deems undesirable, whether married to him or not, she may secretly be on some form of birth control while telling him she cannot have children. She might even go as far as checking into a fertility clinic and blaming the issue on him. After all, in her mind it is never her fault. That man is simply a placeholder until the one she selects comes along to rescue her from him.
If a woman has agreed with her partner to wait before having children, she may stop taking birth control without his knowledge and get pregnant on her own terms, ignoring what was agreed upon. She takes control again.
If you use a condom and fail to flush it immediately, she may insert its contents into herself when you are not looking.
If she gets pregnant, she can have an abortion without the man’s knowledge or permission. She does not need consent from her husband to abort their child, to get her tubes tied, or even to put their child up for adoption. Yet the man needs her consent to have a vasectomy.
Another option she may take is to run off, hide, and never look back, or to simply decide whether or not to tell the man about her pregnancy at all.
After 25 years of marriage, she divorced him and had saved enough money to buy a house all in cash. He had to pay alimony because she made less than him.
There is “Our Money” and there is “My Money”. She lived off her provider.
Don’t be a provider!
Providers are servants.
Be a king and get treated well.
Therapy is code for a dependency on others to think and analyze for her.
What most people do not understand is that women are dependent on others for almost everything they do. They consult psychics, therapists, astrologers, and their female friends, who often guide them to fail because they do not want their friends to rise above them in status.
The modern woman obeys and submits to astrologers, psychics, therapists, jealous girlfriends, lawyers, psychiatrists, and doctors who prescribe harmful mood-altering drugs. Yet she is combative toward the man who professes his love for her, using shaming tactics, insults, humiliation, guilt trips, nagging, and constant arguments.
In short, she obeys everyone who profits from her loss while spitting on the man who loves her.
Her: What kind of work do you do?
TheXYGhost: Would you date a man that works at McDonald’s?
Her: No!
TheXYGhost: Not even the CEO of McDonald’s Inc.?
Her: Well, that’s a different story.
TheXYGhost: I cook fries at McDonald’s. Now get lost and go chase your fantasy prince. I’m not interested in broke opportunists fishing for a man to fund their lifestyle.
You judged me before you knew me, now I judge you after seeing exactly what you are. A gold digger with champagne expectations and a soda can life.
You’re not looking for a partner, you’re hunting for a paycheck in human form. Go beg somewhere else.
Before you ask a girl on a date, ask her one question, would she go on a date with a man she does not like? If she says yes, do not ask her out. She is not dating for connection, she is dating for benefit. Walk away.
Of all the girls I have met and keep on meeting, I keep hearing the same stories about their last boyfriend or husband..
1. He was abusive.
• • a. This is a scam. Did she really mean she was loving, caring, giving and sharing, and all he did was punch her in the face? I can walk on any street in America today and take a poll of 10,000 men, including you and me, and they would all say they would never hit a female. These females want me to believe they found that one man in 10,000 that would hit a female. I will not believe it..
2. He did not give me enough attention. – Dnger Will Robinson, my sensors indicate extreme human manipulation. Every time I hear this excuse, I think to myself the following,.
• • a. How much attention did he promise you?.
• • b. Did he give you a lot of attention, but that was not enough?.
• • c. Did he give you all the attention any human can give, but that was not enough?.
• • d. How much attention did he promise you when you first met?.
• • e. How much attention is enough?.
• • f. How much attention have you received since you two split?.
• • g. Was breaking up your family your solution to your attention needs?.
3. He did not love me.
• • a. When I hear this, I cannot help but ask, “You must have loved him a whole lot for you to leave him” or “How do you measure someone’s love for you” or “Do you measure your pet’s love for you”.
4. He cheated on me.
• • a. An oldie but goodie. I have seen this a million times. Females do not mind cheaters if the man is cheating on his wife for her. They never mind being the target of a cheating man. But that is the man they partnered with, and now they are surprised that he cheated yet again..
5. He was a gambler, alcoholic or a substance abuser.
• • a. Gamblers and substance abusers rarely just pop up out of nowhere. There are indications and warning signs all around that the female chooses to ignore.
A fifty seven year old business acquaintance of mine, who once worked as a domestic violence counselor, decided to lecture me about all the supposed disservices I was doing to myself by being single. He even asked me, “What do you do?” meaning for sex. Then he crossed the line further and asked if I masturbated often. I looked at him and asked, “Why is my genitalia on your mind?” That shut him up on that topic, but he kept preaching about how great his life was with “the right woman.” He had only met her about six years earlier, when he was in his early fifties and she in her early forties.
She lived in Los Angeles with their son, age five, while he bounced between there and New York City. I had seen him call his wife for permission to do things in NYC. I never want to live like that, asking permission to live my life. I had seen him hang up after speaking to her and complain that she treated him like a child. That is not my idea of a great time. If he was late calling her, she tore into him. Again, not something I would ever tolerate.
After chewing my ear off, he started talking about his past counseling work, how he used to counsel men in prison for things like pushing their wife’s face into a grease fryer. He wanted to convince me that men were the problem, that men were mean and abusive. He talked about his wife’s ex husband and how “abusive” he was. The look on his face was priceless when I told him that one side of a story does not make a conclusion. I told him that his view of men as inherently mean is just the flip side of women only choosing vicious and violent men, the same way a lioness seeks the most vicious lion in the wild.
He shifted slightly, talking about domestic violence laws. He said that even a simple argument could be labeled domestic violence if, during it, the man walked closer to a perceived weapon. His example was a man arguing with his wife and walking past a gun cabinet on his way to the bedroom. Or sitting near a butter knife. Or leaning toward a broomstick. Any of these, he said, could escalate the situation into a domestic violence charge. I told him I had no interest in living under a system where one wrong move in an argument could put me in prison.
Three years later, I heard the update. The “love of his life” had been cheating on him with another woman. He later learned that “his son” was not his, but he refused to believe it and never took a DNA test. Eventually, his wife turned on him, had him arrested for domestic violence, and showed up with bruises and a black eye. He swore he never touched her, but she was granted an order of protection. He finally got proof that the boy wasn’t his, but it didn’t matter. He was still ordered to pay child support for a child that was not his, while his ex lived in the house he had to keep paying the mortgage on.
Too bad I haven’t seen him since our last conversation. I could have told him this story years before it happened, because I have seen it play out over and over again.