Category: Stories

I remember a woman trying to introduce me to a “good girl,” a “nice girl” who was asking about me. When I learned she was talking about her niece, I asked her son about his cousin. His warning was blunt, stay away. It wasn’t the usual brotherly protection. He told me his cousin had five kids from five different restaurant owners, had been divorced twice, and had no children from either marriage. She was also a chronic dominator who felt the need to control anyone she could.
 
I never went back to my friend’s mom’s place after that. We still went out sometimes, but I avoided her house. His cousin was in the middle of breaking up with the latest father of her latest child and moving back in with her mother. Dependency on repeat.
 
Over time, my friend told me more. She was pregnant with restaurant owner #1 while still married to husband #1. That ended quickly and divorce #1 was done. Husband #2 cucked his way in, but she got pregnant again with restaurant owner #2, and divorce #2 followed.
 
When meeting the next three restaurant owners, she hid the fact that she even had children. In her teens, she’d had two abortions. She’d collected a list of STDs. She’d been with drug addicts and even one man in prison.
 
If this is what passes for a “good girl” and a “nice girl,” I have no interest in finding out what a bad girl looks like.

Back in 2003, I met a girl at a Starbucks in Manhattan. We talked for hours until I got hungry. I offered to buy her soup at an upscale Chinese soup place across the street. She was a Columbia University student, so I knew she didn’t have money for it.
 
At the restaurant, she almost immediately told me why she chose Columbia. She was looking for a rich man to “take care of her.” I didn’t flinch. I already knew exactly what that meant.
 
“Take care of me” is code for this, she will do absolutely nothing in exchange for the provisions she demands. She expects you to fund every want, need, and desire, exactly when, where, and how she wants it, without a shred of reciprocation. If you fail to deliver on her ridiculous fantasies, her punishment is a scorched-earth divorce that strips you bare.
 
I finished my meal, paid the bill, and we left. Outside, I shook her hand and wished her well. As I started to walk away, she looked shocked and asked why I wasn’t asking for her number. I told her, “I’m not rich, but there are plenty of guys out there who are far more financially gifted than I am.” Then I walked away without looking back.

When my wife walked out, she didn’t waste a second before shacking up with her new simp. The bed wasn’t even cold before she was in his.
 
When word got out, the interrogation started.
• You must have done something wrong for her to leave you,
 
• What did you do to her to make her leave,
 
• She must have had a reason,
 
• You picked the wrong woman,
 
• Maybe you couldn’t satisfy her,
 
• Maybe you couldn’t make her happy,
 
• You hate women,
 
Every question carried the same assumption, that if a woman leaves, the man is automatically guilty. Her decision is never questioned, her motives are never challenged, you are guilty by default.
 
The twisted part was how quickly every lonely, bitter, or bored woman in my orbit came sniffing around. Single moms, divorced wrecks, even married women with unmet needs, all suddenly “available.”
 
The married ones were the worst. When I refused their game, they ran back to their husbands claiming I came on to them. The single moms and divorcées spread rumors about me the second I turned them down.
 
I had young girls whispering that their mothers liked me. One told me her daughter, a walking cautionary tale with five kids from five different restaurant owners, was asking about me. That daughter still had a doormat boyfriend who could never pass mommy’s inspection.
 
Refuse a woman and the claws come out. Suddenly you are gay. You are defective. One told me I should try a gay dating site. When I nearly exploded at her disrespect, she smirked and said, “You are angry… maybe that’s why your wife left you.” That is how they operate, bait you, provoke you, and then use your reaction as proof.
 
At work it was the same circus. Women I barely knew were spreading stories about why my wife left, inventing details out of thin air. It was a nonstop smear campaign mixed with inappropriate advances. A bizarro world where rejecting a woman made you a villain, and being targeted by one made you guilty.
 
Eventually I stopped telling anyone I was divorced. Not because I was ashamed, but because I was done giving women more ammunition to twist into whatever fantasy or accusation served them that week.
 
So I will ask, has your post-divorce battlefield looked like mine, or were you spared the full circus?

• He didn’t give me enough attention,
 
• I’m high maintenance,
 
• He couldn’t handle me,
 
• He is too nice,
 
• He wasn’t man enough,
 
• I’m worth it,
 
• He didn’t make me happy,
 
• I’m picky,
 
• There must be a reason,
 
• I’m bored,
 
• He made me angry,
 
• He let me manipulate him,
 
• I want someone that will take care of me,
 
• He’s afraid of commitments,
 
• I don’t love him anymore,
 
• I’m highly educated,
 
• I’m a strong independent woman,
 
• I knew I would divorce him once I found someone better,
 
• You hate women,

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.

Most of my callers were women complaining about their income source, their husband or boyfriend, while working on securing a new one who was still married or already in a committed relationship. They would tell me their man did not live up to the fantasy in their head. I would tell them every time there are two men in their lives, one they want to bring in, the other they want to push out. I could tell them this before they even spoke. They were that predictable.
 
Day after day it was a conveyor belt of women spilling the things they could not tell their clergy, friends, family, or even their psychiatrists. No wonder I pegged them before they said a word.
 
They never saw their actions as cheating. I would point out how hard they were working to get a married man to commit to them, a man who was already committed to someone else. I even praised their effort, telling them they were going above and beyond what they would ever do for that man if they already had him, just to pry him away from the woman he was with.
 
They were always frustrated that their effort did not pay off. They were chained to a man they hated, while chasing another man already spoken for, and both dependencies fed each other. They refused to let go of the first until the second was locked in place. They walked a tightrope, holding one in place while seducing the other, never risking a jump until the new branch could hold their full weight.
 
This is monkey branching in its purest form.

Back in 2004, I got a call from a woman. After giving her my usual shtick, she asked me, “When is my Johnny coming back to me?”
 
To stretch the call at $6.99 a minute, I asked for Johnny’s date of birth and the last time she was intimate with him, so my spirit guide could “contact” his spirit.
 
She said, “June 23, 1972.”
 
Thinking that was his birth date, I asked again when she was last intimate with him. She said, “1972.”
 
I had to stop her and get this straight. She told me she met Johnny after a concert he played in 1972. She slept with him the same night. He tried to leave. She refused to let him go.
 
She chased him to every local concert. He didn’t care. She moved into the same gated community. She followed him to gigs. Johnny had to give security her photo before every show so they could keep her away.
 
Years passed. He got married. She didn’t take the hint. She stalked him to Upstate New York, then to New Jersey. She married another man just to make Johnny jealous. When Johnny had kids, she got pregnant to get his attention.
 
Multiple protection orders later, she was still on his trail.
 
By 2004, she was divorced. She spent weekends in her ex husband’s parents’ basement and weekdays at his place. Her eleven year old daughter preferred living with her father. She never kept a job for long. Johnny still had to renew protection orders one after another.
 
Johnny was still in a band, touring Europe and the United States. Still married, three kids, fourteen years with the same wife.
 
And she was still waiting for her “Johnny” to come back.
 
Do you still think a side piece is worth it?

My friend and I were phone psychics, and we had a lot of fun swapping stories about our callers. Sometimes his clients would call me, and sometimes mine would call him. One day he stumbled on something big. He told a woman who wanted to leave her husband that her husband had forced her to marry him. She broke down crying and admitted she had never told anyone that before, claiming she was too ashamed.
 
He started using that line in his readings, and before long he discovered that almost every woman would agree. It was so insane that I started using it too. I told women their husband forced them into marriage, and many cried as they agreed, calling back even more often.
 
Whenever I told women not to leave their husbands, they hung up. They did not want a psychic, they wanted someone to hand them a story that made them innocent and made them the victim, every single time.
 
fter six months, I had a thirty minute monologue locked in for any new caller, delivered before they even asked a question. The website feedback was always the same:
 
“This man is very in tuned with me. He told me things I never told a soul. Right off the bat his readings were accurate and he never even asked me my date of birth. Highly recommend.”

At first, I laughed at my friend when he suggested I should work as a phone psychic. That laughter died quickly when I realized more than ninety percent of my callers were painfully predictable.
 
1. They were almost always women or gay men,
 
2. They lived off one man, a husband or boyfriend, pretending to like him while convincing themselves they were not wrong for doing it,
 
3. They almost always had a second, third, or even fourth man in their sights who they wished to live off instead,
 
4. They always asked, “Does he love me?”, “Will he commit to me?” or “When will he commit to me or love me?”,
 
5. They almost always decided you were a great psychic if you encouraged them to leave the man they were with for the man they wanted,
 
Wash, rinse, repeat.

I had a new caller, and right away she started unloading her life story. At $6.99 per minute, I listened carefully.
 
She said she was fifty seven and had lived a good life. She had three children and made sure they all finished high school and college. She guided them to marry the “right” people and “she” bought them all homes, despite never holding a job during her entire marriage.
 
She told me she had done all she could for her kids and now it was her turn. Then she shifted gears, “I’m not selfish and I know where my kids are going. I’ve helped them on the right path in life. I don’t want to know anything about my lazy good for nothing husband. He sold his business and ended up working at a florist shop.”
 
She kept her composure and moved on to the real reason for the call, she wanted to know about her boyfriend, seventy six years old, owner of an oil refinery in Louisiana. She said he was fooling around with two thirty year old women who were after his money.
 
She told me about her two sons and her daughter, then bragged that she lived in an $800,000 home, fully paid off. Her husband, now sixty eight, had sold his financial services business for $5 million and chose to work with his army buddy selling flowers.
 
She wrapped it all up with, “I don’t want to know about me. I don’t want to know about my kids or my good for nothing husband. I need to know when my boyfriend will commit to me because I can’t leave my husband without him.”
 
I started by telling her I picked up the evil energies of the two younger women. She was thrilled. I told her they would soon show their true colors and it would hit him that she was better for him. She loved hearing that.
 
I told her to play hard to get to hook him. She agreed, saying she already thought that might be the best plan and just needed confirmation.
 
Then she told me she needed a hip replacement and asked if she should make her husband pay for it or wait for her boyfriend to commit. That was when I almost threw up.
 
I told her to wait for the boyfriend to commit, because when he “rescues” her, it would make him bond with her.

I had a caller that was very adamant about her intentions to leave her husband after 20 years, but in order to do that, she needed to find another man to latch on. She would call me from time to time asking me about every new man she met. She told her son, daughter and best friend of her intentions. She went in internet chat rooms (2002) to find men that will do her will and make her life a paradise.
 
One day she called me about a man in France that invited her to go there and live with him. He promised her the sun, moon and everything in between.
 
I almost begged her not to go. She told me that her 11 year old  daughter cried and begged her not to leave, but she bought a ticket to France to meet the man that she knew nothing about.
 
The next call I received from her was her in France, telling me that the man never showed up. She was shocked that I was right about what I told her. But she asked again if I thought the man would show up. I told her it would not be likely.
 
She spent a month in France, with the money she took from her husband, then went home. When she arrived, she was shocked at the reception she received from her family. She called me, and was ponderous as to why they would not be happy that she returned.
 
A few days past and she called, asking why her family was distancing themselves from her. She even told me that her best friend didn’t return her calls. She then saw the credit card bills and noticed a few purchases from Victoria’s Secret while she was in France.
 
In short, she kicked her support system in the crotch and wondered why he didn’t support her afterwards. Now she wanted me to help her get back with her husband and get him to break it off with her ex best friend, so she could continue her search. All for $6.99 per minute.

I got a call from a woman in her mid forties who told me her son had died the day before. For a moment, I actually felt bad. I wondered if I could even handle the call on the psychic line I was working. She said her two sons had been arguing while working a roofing job. One of them fell off the roof and died.
 
I braced myself, thinking she was going to ask me to channel his spirit or something equally bizarre. I was wrong. Without a pause, without even letting the gravity of that statement hang in the air, she rolled right into the real reason for her call.
 
“I met this man a while ago,” she said, “and he has yet to ask me out. I see him regularly and we talk all the time. Does he love me? Will he ever get the nerve to ask me out?”
 
I sat there amazed. Her son had died yesterday and she was asking me about whether some man might ask her on a date. No tears. No grief. No second thought about her dead son.
 
I stopped the call. I told her I had forgotten to take my medication and was feeling ill. I hung up.
 
She called back thirty minutes later. Not a single mention of her son’s death. All she wanted to talk about was how to get this man to take her out.

After my divorce and after September 11th, I became so depressed that I never left my apartment for years. Eventually, a friend took pity on me and signed me up as a phone psychic. I laughed and told him I wasn’t a psychic. He said all I had to do was tell people what they wanted to hear. I told him that in order to tell someone what they wanted to hear, I’d have to know them first. He laughed and told me I was overthinking it.
 
So I started, and before long I was in the top thirty out of over ten thousand psychics on the platform. I learned quickly that ninety five percent of my callers were women and four percent were gay men with the same female mindset. The one question they always asked, every single time, was, “Does he love me?” Narcissistic women live for that question. They take no responsibility for their own reasoning. They expect someone else to hand them their answers.
 
Before long, I had a complete script ready before they even spoke. I would tell them the spirits said they were loving, caring, giving, and sharing all the time, and they never took time for themselves. I’d tell them to pamper themselves with a manicure, pedicure, facial, and massage because they deserved it. What woman would hang up at $6.99 a minute?
 
Then I’d tell them there were two main men in their life, one pushing toward them who they didn’t want, and another drifting away. They’d always agree. The one they didn’t want was their husband or boyfriend. The one drifting away was the man they actually wanted. Reading simple minds is easy.
 
On April 7, 2003, I got a call from a woman in upstate New York. She spoke in a whisper about a man named Russell that she was in love with. She asked if Russell loved her and if he’d received her letters. I told her yes, and that he carried one of her letters in his pocket every day. She was thrilled.
 
She told me it was Russell’s birthday, that she was channeling energy to him in New Zealand, and that he was getting married that day. I had a gut feeling she was talking about Russell Crowe. I Googled his name. Sure enough, it was his birthday and he was getting married.
 
So I told her that minutes before he walked down the aisle, he read her letter and placed it in his inside jacket pocket next to his heart. She sighed and moaned with every detail. I described him like his character Maximus from Gladiator, strong, honorable, fearless, a leader of men. She ate up every word.
 
I could not believe a woman in her mid forties was pining over a man she’d never met, paying $420 an hour for a stranger to tell her lies about someone he didn’t know. This went on for more than an hour until her money ran out. Over the next few months she called several more times, still clinging to the fantasy and pushing away any real man in her life.
 
I should probably tweet this to Russell Crowe with my apologies. @RussellCrowe

I was waiting in line for the bathroom at Starbucks in midtown Manhattan. I was second in line and in front of me was a cute, well dressed girl carrying an expensive handbag. The bathroom door opened and a Starbucks employee came out with a broom, dustpan, and spray bottle, signaling it had just been cleaned.
 
She went in. A short time later I heard the toilet flush, the sink run, and the hand dryer blow. Then she came out.
 
I went in, locked the door, and immediately noticed a wad of toilet paper on the floor between the toilet and the wall. I put on my glasses to inspect the seat and was amazed to see droplets of urine on both sides of it.
 
They say men are filthy and pee on the seat. The truth is, women hover and spray the sides. The question is, if you are going to hover, why not lift the seat first?

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.

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.

Women use false accusations because there is virtually no accountability for them.
 
Far too few are charged, fewer still are tried, and even when convicted the sentences are a joke compared to the destruction they cause. A man can lose his career, his freedom, his reputation, his relationships, and in many cases his will to live, while the woman who lied often walks away untouched.
 
This is why due process and the rule of law must be followed. Sexual assault is a horrific crime, but false accusations are equally devastating. Both destroy lives.
 
Here are just a few examples, a fraction of the hundreds of documented cases I have compiled, each one backed by evidence and linked to public reports.
 
Heartbroken mother of a teen who killed himself after a withdrawn rape allegation found hanged at her home,
The family of grief stricken Karin Cheshire, 55, said she could not see a future without her son Jay, Cheshire, 17, took his own life after being falsely accused of rape,
 
USC ignored evidence that a female student invented a rape claim to avoid being fired, appeals court rules,
 
One of Brett M. Kavanaugh’s accusers admitted she fabricated her story to derail his Supreme Court confirmation,
 
A boy’s life destroyed after girls admitted they lied simply because they did not like him,
 
Woman lied about rape because her date did not drive her home,
 
Drunk seductress, 36, forced herself on a 14 year old boy, then accused him of rape when he reported her, she was jailed for just over four years,
 
Woman claimed a cop raped her, then body cam footage proved it was a lie,
 
Student filed a fake gang rape case after missing a university exam, let off with only a warning,
 
Mother lost custody after filing ten false abuse reports against the father,
 
Woman claimed her ex fiancé hit her, but surveillance video showed her striking herself to fake the injuries,
 
Two students hooked up consensually, weeks later she changed her story, triggering a Title IX case that cost him $12,000 to defend,
 
Mohali woman filed over 30 false rape complaints in four years,
 
Rohtak boys falsely accused, proven innocent, demand the media clear their names,
 
Jilted ex falsely accused a man of rape, text messages proved she lied,
 
Connor Fitzgerald, 19, lost his job over a false rape claim, his accuser bragged about ruining his life,
 
Woman accused six men of rape, later proven false, collected $2,000 from a program for “victims,”
 
Man took his own life after a fake rape claim, his last words, “I’m free from this living hell,”
 
Weston man cleared of rape after an 11 month nightmare,
 
False accuser retracts claim against a community leader,
 
Middlebury College student describes the hell of a false rape allegation,
 
Mother drugged her own children to frame their father for abuse,
 
Woman who accused men of abuse before robbing their homes arrested again,
 
Woman lied about being abducted and raped, pleads guilty to faking evidence,
 
Canadian woman charged with public mischief for fabricating a sexual assault claim,
 
Lawyer apologizes for falsely accusing a state trooper of rape,
 
Two girls arrested for filing a fake rape complaint to extort money,
 
Father of two spent eight months in jail after police withheld evidence proving his innocence,
 
Woman arrested for trying to frame a man for rape in Uttar Pradesh,
 
Case collapses after police failed to investigate 30,000 Facebook pages tied to the accuser,
 
This is the reality, false accusations are a weapon. A weapon with no real consequence for the one who uses it, and a death sentence for the one it is aimed at.

“Yes” means “Yes,” at this moment,
 
“Yes” means “No,” if I am not in the mood,
 
“No” means “No,” unless it means, try harder,
 
“No” means “Yes,” until I change my mind,
 
“Maybe” means “Yes,” to keep my options open,
 
“Maybe” means “No,” when I am unsure,

When I told the women in my life what my ex wife did to me, they would sooner or later turn it around to blame me, then spread rumors that I hated all women. It never ceased to amaze me. Why would every woman I spoke to about my ex immediately blame me, then claim I hated all women, when I was talking about the actions of one? It made no sense.
 
Over time, I started telling women about my divorce just to watch them blame me for her bad behavior and accuse me of being a woman hater. They blamed me for choosing her, faulted me for “allowing” her to cheat and steal my money. That is like blaming a homeowner for “allowing” burglars to rob the house.
 
These same women would march on Washington DC if anyone suggested that even one woman was raped because she “allowed” it to happen. The hypocrisy was staggering.
 
I got so tired of their reactions that I began lying about why I was no longer married. I started saying my ex wife had died, thinking I would finally get nothing more than a “Sorry for your loss” and maybe a question or two.
 
Wrong. Some women gave me dirty looks and outright accused me of killing her. Others said their condolences, then later told people they “knew” I killed her. No matter what I said, they found a way to turn it into an accusation.
 
I began calling this phenomenon “The Female Collective,” after The Borg Collective from Star Trek. It was like every woman operated under a shared code, all women are faultless, all men are guilty, and no investigation is ever needed before blaming the man.
 
Whenever they heard a news story about a woman killing a man, they instantly decided it was his fault.
 
I see the same warped thinking in politics. If you criticize Barack Hussein Obama, you hate all black people. If Donald J. Trump wants to build a wall on the Mexican border or temporarily ban immigration from seven countries, he is labeled a hater of all Mexicans, Muslims, and immigrants. If he insults one woman, Rosie O’Donnell, they claim he hates all women.
 
This isn’t logic. This is tribalism weaponized into automatic condemnation.

Here are some of the idiotic reasons women have given for breaking up.
 
1. You didn’t love me enough,
 
2. You never gave me enough attention,
 
3. We are just not compatible,
 
4. You didn’t control me enough,
 
5. You always want things done your way,
 
6. You never think about me,
 
7. You love your job or your car more than me,
 
8. We’ve grown apart,
 
9. You are abusive,
 
10. You’re too nice,
 
11. It’s just not working out,
 
12. We are not meant to be together,
 
13. You are overshadowing me,
 
14. Your cancer is not going to ruin my life,
 
15. My ex boyfriend just got early parole and I still love him, he was in for murder,
 
16. If you don’t do X, Y, and Z, I’ll find someone who will,
 
17. If you do X, Y, and Z again, I will leave you,
 
18. I don’t love you anymore, I love him, it’s not my fault, it just happened,
 
19. The nerve of your family telling me I have a drinking problem, I’m leaving you,
 
20. You lost your job,
 
21. We need to see other people,
 
22. You’re selfish, stingy, and greedy, I didn’t spend money on her kid, we had only been dating a very short time,
 
23. It’s not you, it’s me, I need to work on myself, then immediately begins dating another guy,
 
24. You’re too good to be true,
 
25. I’m confused,
 
26. I don’t know what I want,

She told me her husband was abusive,
She said he was a jerk,
She told me he cheated on her,
She told me she left him and was not getting a thing,
 
I took her in,
She told me she loved me,
I proposed,
We got married,
 
Now she is gone,
I caught her in a lie,
Her story stopped adding up,
We had a fight,
 
I got arrested,
She took out a protective order on me,
She told the cops and everyone I was abusive,
She called me a jerk to the man she is dating,
 
She told him I cheated on her,
She took my home and told him it was hers,
I can’t believe he believes her

So, the wife of my best friend of over thirty years had an encounter with a nasty woman.
 
It was 8 AM, she had just left the hospital with a cracked rib diagnosis, and she was in line at Starbucks waiting for her order. A woman with an English accent bumped into her hard.
 
“Ow,” she said mostly to herself, ignoring the woman who bumped her.
 
Irritated, the English woman looked her up and down and said in a snobbish tone, “Do you think I am to apologize to you?”
 
My friend’s wife is not one to start trouble, but she was not going to let this slide. She locked eyes with the woman and said, “No, you do not need to say sorry to me, I need to say sorry to you.
 
I am sorry that every man you thought was ‘the one’ left you,
I am sorry you wasted your youth,
I am sorry you go home alone every night,
I am sorry that wearing sequin ten inch heels at eight in the morning will never help you find a man.
 
Look dear, men want three things in a woman,
A beautiful face,
A beautiful heart,
A beautiful vagina,
 
and frankly, all three of yours are rotten. I am going to get my coffee, be on my way, and forget this conversation. You will remember this day forever. Get a cat and call it a day. Enjoy your coffee.”
 
The black woman behind the counter asked her, “Are you part black, because you just read that girl like a book?”
 
You have to love New York City women

If a man cheats,
Bad man, poor woman.
 
If a woman cheats,
“She must have had a reason.”
“He wasn’t doing enough to keep her happy.”
Result: Divorce him, take half his net worth, take the house, take the kids, make him pay for both lawyers.
 
If a man hits a woman,
Bad man! No excuse! Arrest him.
 
If a woman hits a man,
“He must have done something to deserve it.”
“She had a reason.”
 
If a man files for divorce,
Bad man.
He must pay.
Take half his wealth, take half his future income, take his kids.
 
If a woman files for divorce,
He must be the bad guy.
He must pay.
Take half his wealth, take half his future income, take his kids.

Women are natural informants. They seek a higher authority to crush anyone who stands in their way.
 
Just like Samson and Delilah.
 
When GOD is a woman’s ultimate authority, she will go to GOD for guidance. But when she serves herself, she will run to the higher earthly powers.
 
This is why women initiate 80% of divorces l, they go straight to the higher authority: cops, lawyers, judges. Delilah went to the Philistines. Modern women go to the state.

Good men are invisible until a woman is worn out.
 
Until the games stop being fun.
Until her looks fade.
Until she needs a husband.
Until she needs a stepfather for her kid.
Until the man she had children with wants nothing to do with her.
 
Early in life, most women choose the wrong men. They ride the excitement until those men chew them up and spit them out.
 
Then suddenly, the “boring” good man she ignored is the prize she’s chasing.
 
The same man she dismissed.
 
The same man she wouldn’t give the time of day.
 
Understand this, the hoe phase is real. If she’s still in it, you’ll never touch her. You’ll only be considered after it’s over, and that could be ten years later.
 
Good men get the leftovers.
 
Bad men get the prime years.
 
Good men inherit the damage.
The insecurities.
The trauma.
The rage.
The children that aren’t theirs.