“Ladies, when you go on a date you get one drink. If you’re not in a committed relationship, you don’t get two drinks. And in general you need to look at what the man is ordering and order less.
But how many women think “Well I’m going out on diner, Hell he asked me out so I’m gonna go and live it up.” Think about it. How many women approach the sheer fact of being a woman like it entitles them to get every man’s bag.
Y’all expect everything today. You wanna hit the clubs at 3AM, you wanna go on dates, you wanna do all kinda stuff. And then you’re simply asked “What are we gonna get in return? What do you bring to the table?”
A woman will divorce the husband she once called perfect and separate him from his children in the hope of finding her Prince Charming, but a man will never destroy his family chasing the fantasy of landing a supermodel.
A woman will wreck her own home the moment she believes her status or income is greater than her husband’s, but when a man’s status or income rises above his wife’s, he shares the fruits of his success with his family.
By Pink Floyd
Track 6 on the album The Wall
Produced by:
James Guthrie, Bob Ezrin, David Gilmour & Roger Waters
Mother, do you think they’ll drop the bomb?
Mother, do you think they’ll like this song?
Mother, do you think they’ll try to break my balls?
Ooh-ah, Mother, should I build the wall?
[Verse 2: Roger Waters]
Mother, should I run for president?
Mother, should I trust the government?
Mother, will they put me in the firing line?
Ooh-ah, is it just a waste of time?
[Chorus: David Gilmour]
Hush now, baby, baby, don’t you cry
Mamma’s gonna make all of your nightmares come true
Mamma’s gonna put all of her fears into you
Mamma’s gonna keep you right here, under her wing
She won’t let you fly, but she might let you sing
Mamma’s gonna keep baby cozy and warm
[Post-Chorus: David Gilmour]
Ooh babe, ooh babe, ooh babe
Of course, Mamma’s gonna help build the wall
[Guitar Solo]
[Verse 3: Roger Waters]
Mother, do you think she’s good enough…
For me?
Mother, do you think she’s dangerous…
To me?
Mother, will she tear your little boy apart?
Ooh-ah, Mother, will she break my heart?
[Chorus: David Gilmour]
Hush now, baby, baby, don’t you cry
Mamma’s gonna check out all your girlfriends for you
Mamma won’t let anyone dirty get through
Mamma’s gonna wait up until you get in
Mamma will always find out where you’ve been
Mamma’s gonna keep baby healthy and clean
[Post-Chorus: David Gilmour]
Ooh babe, ooh babe, ooh babe
You’ll always be “baby” to me
[Outro: Roger Waters]
Mother, did it need to be so high?
I overheard a single mother brag to her friend that she plans to make the man she really likes wait six months before sleeping with her, while at the same time she is already sleeping with three other men on a regular basis.
These three men give her nothing but sex, no time, no effort, no commitment, and she’s perfectly fine with that. Why? Because the man she really likes takes her out twice a week and gives her the attention she craves.
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.
In 1972 I was 8 or 9 years old in a New York City public school. I didn’t fit in. My clothes came from second-hand stores. My sneakers were falling apart. My mother was a single mom. Back then they called it a broken home. Kids picked on me every day.
Then one day I met a girl. Her name was Eleanor Rubinov. She wore shabby clothes like me. Her and I got along. We ate breakfast together, lunch together. I even brought her to my after-school chess club and photography class.
Then one day she was just gone. She never showed up to class again.
Twenty years later I was working on Wall Street. There was a man named George Rubinov who worked in a neighboring department. We talked sometimes but not much. I never connected the last names. This was New York City. Similar names didn’t mean anything.
One day George didn’t come to work. A whole week went by. His manager got worried and asked if I could help find him. They were calling his house and getting nothing. No answer. No response.
I called every hospital in the area I thought he lived. Then I found him. He was in a hospital. But the nurses said they couldn’t give any more information. His daughter had taken over communication. Her name was Eleanor Rubinov.
That name hit me hard. I instantly remembered my grade school companion. I asked the nurse if she could give me her number. She did.
I called. Found out George had passed away. Then I asked her if she remembered my name.
She did.
She was excited.
She wanted to meet me.
She suggested we meet at a fancy restaurant in Soho. We met. We hugged. We were curious about each other’s lives. As it turned out, she was a model for Victoria’s Secret, Talbots, and a few other clothing lines.
We instantly got together. I helped her with her father’s estate, which turned out to be just an apartment in the Village.
Eleanor and I became an item. We met on Thursdays or Fridays for dinner. We planned weekends together. We went to the country, the Hamptons, the beach. We did a lot of things together.
Problem one was her friend. She had this frumpy-looking friend who instantly hated me. It wasn’t real hate. It was fear. She saw me as someone who would take Eleanor away from her, someone who would jeopardize her own security. I tried to come across as harmless, as non-threatening as I could, but I could feel her watching me, measuring me.
Problem two began when she started getting upset at everything I did. If I made small talk with the concierge at a hotel or chatted with a cab driver, she got upset. She said I shouldn’t be talking to “the help” and that doing so is so pedestrian. She was upset the way I opened the door for her and how I helped her out of the car. Everything I did was wrong. One time she complained that I didn’t correct a waiter for serving me from the wrong side. She became so snobby I could not believe it, but I thought this would pass. It never did. It got worse.
ne day we were planning to go to the Hamptons for a three-day weekend. I was walking to her apartment from work when I saw her coming out of a luxury building. She made a right turn, walking directly in front of me, heading away. She never saw me. I followed several yards behind as she walked to her place.
When she entered her building, I waited about fifteen minutes. Then I rang her doorbell.
She let me in. I asked how everything was and what she had done that day.
She told me right away, “I was in my apartment the entire day. I never left. I was designing some pattern for something.”
I ignored it, but I kept it in the back of my mind. I didn’t know how I was going to address it. One thing I liked about her was that she didn’t mind spending money. She was making close to $20,000 a month after taxes. She often paid for lunch, dinner, whatever.
So this time I said, fine, we’re going to the Hamptons. I let her rent the car. I drove. I let her pay for the hotel, which was about $450 a night with a minimum four-night stay. I didn’t pay for anything. Deliberately.
One night she went to bed early. I headed out to the beach. There were people out there singing songs and playing guitars. I brought them a few six-packs of beer and instantly made friends. I stayed out with them until around four in the morning.
Next day she was complaining. About everything. Third day she gave me the silent treatment. When we left, we left late to avoid the traffic. We returned the rental and got back to her place around one in the morning.
We got into bed and she exploded. Full anger. I didn’t say a word. I got dressed and left.
I didn’t want to argue with someone who lied to me. That wasn’t acceptable.
About fifteen years later I was walking through the Village. I saw her through the window of one of her favorite restaurants. A glass of wine on her table. Torn shopping bag at her side. Her hair was a mess. She looked angry.
Women think through their emotions. Their sense of right and wrong is not built on logic, it’s built on how something makes them feel. If it feels good, it must be right. If it feels bad, it must be wrong. That’s why a woman will believe a comforting lie over a painful truth every time. She doesn’t process facts; she processes the feelings those facts trigger.
When a woman is doing something that feels good to her, she becomes blind to the consequences. If you explain the outcome and it doesn’t align with how she wants to feel, she will reject it. It doesn’t matter how logical your reasoning is. To her, bad feelings mean bad information. She is emotionally allergic to anything that disrupts her personal narrative.
A man, on the other hand, approaches correction differently. When you tell a man he is doing something wrong, he may resist at first, but deep down he wants to understand. He wants to fix it. Men are wired to solve problems, even if the solution requires swallowing pride. A man seeks clarity. A woman seeks emotional comfort. If you tell her she’s wrong, she will see it as an attack. It’s not a lesson to her, it’s a wound.
The older a woman gets without being grounded in a man’s logic, the more detached from reality she becomes. The longer she operates inside her emotional echo chamber, the more delusional she grows. Feelings replace facts, fantasies replace accountability, and the truth becomes something she refuses to accept unless it flatters her.
But a woman cannot escape this emotional trap on her own. Left to her feelings, she will keep spinning in circles, believing whatever soothes her in the moment and rejecting anything that threatens her illusions. She needs a man’s guidance to anchor her back to reality. A man’s logic is the mirror she avoids but desperately needs to face. Without a man to confront her emotions with hard truth, she will never develop the discipline to think beyond her feelings.
The longer she remains without the logical discipline a man provides, the worse it gets. She will start viewing constructive criticism as abuse. She will see correction as control. Anything positive that results from logical understanding will look like oppression to her. She will reject it because it doesn’t feel good. Logic will become the enemy. Truth will become an attack. And the more she resists, the deeper she sinks into emotional delusion, mistaking every opportunity for growth as an assault on her identity.
A man’s role is not to entertain her delusions, but to lead her out of them. Logic isn’t something she stumbles upon, it’s something that must be introduced, enforced, and reinforced by a man who refuses to bow to her emotional games. Without that, she stays trapped in a cycle of self-deception, never learning, never growing, never admitting she is wrong.
We all learn and grow from the mistakes we make, but a woman is never wrong.
A woman cheats, lies, betrays, destroys, and the blame lands on the man. Always. She knows it, she counts on it, she thrives on it.
• If she cheats, they say he failed her.
• If she lashes out, they say he provoked her.
• If she leaves, they say he drove her away.
• If she destroys the relationship, they say he did not keep her happy.
• If she destroys her family, they say it is his fault.
It never matters what she does. Society invents a reason why he is to blame. That is why women betray without fear, because the verdict is written before the trial begins. Not guilty, blame the man.
The most brutal part is how other men feed this lie. Not the man betrayed, but the men standing around him. They point at him instead of her. They sneer, “What did you do wrong?” or “How did you lose her?” They shield her from shame because it is easier to crucify a man than confront the truth about women. Her words outweigh his indisputable evidence.
In every movie since the 1960s, female infidelity has been portrayed as empowering, liberating, even heroic. Male infidelity, on the other hand, has been painted as betrayal, cruelty, and unforgivable sin. Culture itself has been twisted into her alibi.
This is why women have zero accountability. Society shields them. Men defend them. The law bends for them. She does not even have to fight for innocence, it is handed to her. Until that shield is torn away, women will keep destroying without shame, because they know the cost will never touch them.
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 hadn’t 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.
A number of years ago I was sitting at a bar in Caffe Roma in Beverly Hills, California (http://www.cafferomabeverlyhills.com/) waiting for my friends to arrive. They were late, again. After a while of sitting there nursing my drink, a well-dressed man with long blonde hair stood next to me. As it turned out, this gentleman was Fabio, Fabio Lanzoni (http://tinyurl.com/zvbsj5b). You know, the Italian model who graced the covers of countless Harlequin Romance Novels (http://tinyurl.com/j3gq8jw) and starred in the famous I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter ads (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xszIaNpYILY). Yes, that Fabio, the icon of female desire.
We began talking. It was surreal. After a while, I asked him if he was married. A very serious look came over his face, and with a tone I will never forget, he replied,
“Do I look stupid to you?”
Then he added, “Women are crazy.”
Here I was, sitting and talking with a man who could attract any woman he wanted purely by his looks and popularity, yet he kept women at arm’s length and nothing more.
As you can see from his Wikipedia page (http://tinyurl.com/zayz5hm), he has never been married. If a man like him won’t get married, why should you?
By the way, congratulations to Fabio on becoming a U.S. citizen as of March 16, 2016. Welcome to our country, we’re proud to have you.
So many times over the years, I have heard women spit out the words “not a real man” toward any man who refuses to bend, break, and submit to their immediate wants. They use it as a weapon, a way to shame men into compliance. But if we are going to talk about what “real” is, then it is time to lay down what makes a real woman.
• A real woman is feminine, not a cheap imitation of masculinity.
• A real woman smiles, because her energy lifts her family, it does not drain it.
• A real woman keeps her family together instead of threatening to destroy it when she does not get her way.
• A real woman is grateful and thankful to her husband for what he provides, instead of treating his efforts as bare minimum requirements.
• A real woman is intelligent, not just educated, but wise enough to know how to keep a man and raise a family.
• A real woman is calming, not chaotic.
• A real woman takes responsibility for her own happiness instead of demanding a man hand-deliver it to her.
• A real woman is the pride of her family, not the shame whispered about at reunions.
• A real woman is beautiful at any age because she values self-respect over self-exposure.
• A real woman is not masculine, because competing with her man is not the same as loving him.
• A real woman turns a man’s house into a loving home instead of a place he dreads walking into.
• A real woman wipes the tears off her husband’s face and does not belittle him for showing human emotion.
• A real woman holds high standards for her own actions instead of policing everyone else’s.
• A real woman is her man’s support, not his burden.
• A real woman does not get divorced as a shortcut to “finding herself.”
• A real woman does not have a body count over one, because she understands her value is not in being passed around.
• A real woman does not cheat on her husband, period.
• A real woman does not plot against her husband like he is the enemy.
• A real woman does not yell, scream, or hit when she is angry, because self-control is not optional.
• A real woman is the source of her man’s peace and comfort, not the reason he hides in the garage to avoid her.
• A real woman does not throw temper tantrums like a child.
• A real woman does not fake ailments for attention.
• A real woman does not crave attention, because she knows her worth without needing a crowd.
• A real woman does not threaten to tear apart her own family to win an argument.
• A real woman does not turn her children against their father for revenge.
• A real woman does not manipulate, shame, or test the people she claims to love.
• A real woman does not crave status symbols like overpriced clothes or jewelry to feel important.
• A real woman does not blame others for her own poor choices.
• A real woman does not whine or complain her way through life.
• A real woman does not need makeup to be beautiful, because beauty is built on character.
• A real woman does not cover herself in tattoos to appear edgy.
• A real woman does not carve herself up with surgeries to impress strangers.
• A real woman does not drink, smoke, or take drugs to escape reality.
• A real woman does not beg for validation from anyone outside her home.
• A real woman does not need a degree to prove her worth, because her value is not tied to a title.
• A real woman does not weaponize her status against her husband.
• A real woman is not jealous or insecure, because she is confident in the role she has built.
• A real woman does not measure her husband’s love in gifts or money, but in the loyalty, sacrifice, and dedication she gives him in return.
When was the last time you saw one? For most men today, the answer is simple, never.
When a woman says, “I want a man who can keep up with me,” what she really means is that she plans to keep raising her self worth higher and higher, and that man is expected to exceed her at every stage, in ways no man realistically can. If she is masculine, she demands a man who is even more masculine than she is, yet feminine energy is drawn to masculine energy. That contradiction is exactly why she ends up attracting weak, feminine men, and then resenting them for it.
Vhen a woman says she wants someone to keep up with her, understand this, if her net worth increases, and it will, because you are paying for everything while she saves her money, she will leave you. The moment she believes she has outgrown you, she is gone.
When a woman wins the lottery, she will break up her family without hesitation, no matter how hard her children cry. When a man wins the lottery, he shares it with his family and builds something bigger. Men want their children to have a better life than they dia. Women do not want anyone around them who has a better life than they do, so they cut you down to restore their sense of control.
Like that line from the Pink Floyd song,”Mama’s gonna make all your nightmares come true,” that is not just a lyric, it is a warning.
There are many reasons a woman will end a relationship and the truth is almost never what men assume. Men are raised to believe breakups come from arguments misunderstandings or love simply fading away. They imagine if they stay loyal and supportive the bond will survive anything. That belief keeps men blind.
What they do not see is that sometimes a woman will deliberately spark drama to open the exit door. She may provoke an argument create a disagreement or invent a false accusation because chaos gives her the justification she needs to leave without looking like the bad one. If you ask most women why they divorced or ended a relationship they will usually give one of three answers infidelity physical abuse or drug abuse. Those explanations sound clean final and unquestionable. But one side of a story does not make a conviction.
A breakup does not begin the day she says the words. It begins quietly. It begins in her mind. There is a moment when she stops seeing you as the man she chose and starts seeing you as the man she tolerates. It is a shift so small you hardly notice it but everything changes from that point forward.
She Found a New PartnerShe leaves because she has found another man. She asks to stay friends because she wants you as a backup plan in case the new man rejects her. To secure her new position she will paint you as the villain. She tells him you were abusive unfaithful or controlling because victims get rescued and villains get replaced. If you accept her back into your life she loses all respect for you. You become the man who waited while she tasted a new life. You become the man willing to swallow betrayal. Once someone sees you as weak the dynamic is broken forever. The cruelest part is this. She will rewrite history to justify her escape. In her mind you are no longer the man who stood by her. You become the mistake she had to correct. The entire relationship collapses into a story she tells herself to defend her betrayal.
She Put the Relationship on a BreakShe puts the relationship on hold or calls for a break. The truth is she has likely found another man she believes has higher status than you. Calling it a break gives her a loophole to explore options without feeling like a cheater. In her mind she is free to experiment while you wait in silence. When a woman asks for a break send her away. A relationship is not a device with play pause resume settings she controls for convenience. If she wants a break she already broke it.
She Thinks You Are BoringA woman may leave because she thinks you are boring. In her mind you are responsible for her excitement. She believes you must provide happiness and stimulation on demand. Listen to the language. He makes me happy. He makes me smile. He makes me mad. She assigns you ownership of her emotions as if you control them. She chose to smile. She chose to get mad. She chose to be happy. But she blames you for causing it. When someone depends on you to create their feelings they are not in love with you they are addicted to the effect you have on them. By giving you responsibility for their emotions they also give you blame for their disappointments. She calls you boring because it is easier than admitting she is responsible for her own emptiness.
What many women find boring are the traits of a successful man. Emotional stability consistency discipline and self control. He does not chase drama beg for validation or manufacture chaos to feel alive. He brings calm order and direction. That silence terrifies those addicted to emotional noise. What they call boring is strength without spectacle and discipline without theatrics.
She Feels Above YouA woman will leave the moment she believes she has outgrown you. From the beginning she treated the relationship like a comparison. The day she decides her value has risen and yours has stalled everything shifts. You stop being her partner and become her obstacle.
You hear it in the language. She says she needs a man who can keep up with her. These are not expressions of love they are rankings. She measures worth by income title education and social visibility. Men do not speak this way. A man does not say he wants a woman who can keep up with him. Only women turn love into a competition.
Once she places herself above you the relationship is already collapsing. She no longer sees you as a partner but as a stepping stone. Her sense of superiority does not come from truth but from an imagined hierarchy where status defines worth.
She Wants You as a PlaceholderSometimes a woman does not choose you she parks on you. You fill time provide security and stand guard while she scans for the man she really wants. You are not the destination you are the waiting room.
The moment that man appears your value collapses. If you are treated like a convenience you already have your answer.
You Outlived Your Intended UseTo her you were useful for a specific purpose. Once that purpose was fulfilled your usefulness expired. You were not chosen for who you are but for what you could provide at that moment.
She may have wanted access to your circle stability or resources. In many cases she is not seeking partnership but leverage. A contract marriage a child and a future settlement. Once those boxes are checked your role ends.
She Wants Revenge by Proxy
Sometimes a woman believes she was betrayed by another man and wants revenge. She cannot reach the original source so she redirects the punishment. Another man absorbs the anger for an injustice he did not commit.
He becomes a stand in for the past. She unloads unresolved wounds and calls it healing. In reality he is paying another man’s debt.
She Is Testing Your LoveWomen test men constantly emotionally psychologically and behaviorally. One common test is the manufactured breakup. She pulls away to measure your reaction. If you beg she loses respect. If you accept it calmly she rewrites the story and claims you never loved her. The test was never about love. It was about control. Most tests manufacture loss rather than measure devotion.
She Wants to Punish YouShe is angry because you did not notice the salon visit the hair the nails or the dress. In her mind that proves you do not value her as much as she believes you should.
You glance at another woman. She becomes jealous. You work with a woman she has never met. Your job becomes the problem. She demands compliance not reason. When she leaves she builds a story where she is justified. The breakup becomes punishment not separation.
She Finds Your WeaknessWhen a woman finds a man’s weakness the shift is instant. Respect does not fade it collapses.
One woman admitted she lost respect for her fighter boyfriend the moment she saw him hesitate in a fight. Another divorced her husband after seeing him cry at his father’s funeral. Weakness once seen cannot be unseen.
Not Enough AttentionThis excuse has existed for decades. It is vague undefined and impossible to satisfy.
How much attention is enough. Is too much still not enough. Did you ever explain your needs. Can any one person provide unlimited emotional supply.
When a requirement cannot be defined it can never be satisfied.
She Wants to See You HurtAcross social media a new pattern has emerged. Women openly brag about hurting men for entertainment. This behavior is not traditional. It is recent calculated and accelerating. What once happened privately now happens publicly rewarded with attention and praise. Ignoring it comes at a cost.
The Truth Beneath Every BreakupDespite the variety of reasons the underlying pattern is always the same.
Number one. She is always innocent in her own story. She rewrites the past until she becomes the victim and you become the shadow she escaped.
Number two. You are wrong by default. Your intentions loyalty and sacrifices no longer matter. Her comfort requires your condemnation.
Number three. When she initiates a breakup she expects you to panic and beg. When you accept it calmly her entire script collapses. Nothing hurts more than a man who gives her exactly what she asked for. In that moment she realizes she never had power over you at all.
After she dumped me in high school in 1980 to marry my best friend, she had the nerve to find me on Facebook forty years later to see if I wanted to get back together.
Forty years, four decades, a lifetime. After building a life with the man she left me for, she came circling back like nothing happened, like betrayal has an expiration date, like I’d be flattered she remembered me. What she really remembered wasn’t me, it was the comfort, the security, the loyalty she threw away. Now that time has stripped away her looks, her options, and her leverage, she comes knocking, hoping the man she betrayed would be stupid enough to give her a second chance.
From the start of almost every relationship I have had, the woman would eventually test the waters with the same tired question: “Do you love me?”
When I gave my truthful answer, it was never enough. They would pout, get quiet, or ask the same question again later that day, as if repetition could magically change my heart. One woman actually asked, “Do you love me?” and when I gave my answer, she immediately followed with, “How about now?” as if my feelings could shift in the span of five seconds.
Then came another woman, new in my life, who asked me the same question. This time, I answered differently: “I love you as much as you love me.”
Her smile disappeared in an instant. She became angry, defensive, and offended. She was furious that my love matched hers, because deep down she knew it was not much to begin with. She had just exposed herself without realizing it.
Within the hour, we broke up. She spat out, “I only want to date a man who loves me right from the start.” She was livid when I told her she was easily replaced and that I would find another woman soon.
What she really wanted was not love, but validation. And like every other woman before her, she wanted more than she was ever willing to give.
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.
By my mid 20s, I grew tired of hearing women’s stories about cheating, abusive, and substance abusing boyfriends. Meanwhile, I saw in my life and my friends’ lives that their girlfriends and wives were cheating and leaving with the same excuse, “Not enough.”
Not enough attention.
Not enough love.
Not enough quality time.
Not enough sex.
Not enough money.
When I kept making the mistake of dating these women, because all women claim their last boyfriend was abusive, so I had no real choice, I found myself in the same position. I was never doing enough. As they sought their next partner under the protection and provision I provided, I was left behind.
But they were never at fault for cheating. Even other women blamed me for picking them or not providing enough. Nobody blamed the women for seeking another man.
My solution: I do not pick anymore. Buy me gifts, shower me with attention, provide for me, and I will tell you it’s still not enough.
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.
You want me to feed you, clothe you, entertain you, and pamper you on every level while I protect you with my life, no matter if you’re right or wrong. And if I don’t satisfy your endless wants, needs, and desires on command, you believe you have the right to take everything I’ve worked for my entire life, even what I earned before I met you. I’m expected to beg, grovel, and bribe you with expensive jewelry, overpriced food, and extravagant dates just to earn the privilege of being your servant.
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.
Several times in my life I have met women who claimed they were in abusive relationships. Some were married, others were simply living together. Every time I told them they should leave, they had the same answer, “I can’t.”
When I asked why, the response was always the same, word for word, “You just don’t understand.” And some of them would go further, saying, “But I love him.”
What they were really saying was that they loved the chaos more than they loved peace. They loved the emotional highs and lows more than stability. They were addicted to the drama and the validation they could extract from being the victim while still staying in the very situation they complained about.
You cannot save a woman from a man she does not want to be saved from. And you cannot reason with someone who calls abuse unacceptable yet chooses to stay in its presence. They will tell you they are trapped, but the truth is they are invested. They are not prisoners of the man, they are prisoners of their own choices.
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.
