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.
I spoke to a 76-year-old man who had been a minister and marriage counselor for 45 years. He told me that during his first 12 years of counseling, he believed the men were the problem in every case. Then one day he changed his approach. He began every first session by asking, “How is your relationship with your spouse?” He would ask the husband first, then the wife.
What he discovered was eye-opening. The husbands almost always answered, “Everything is fine.” The wives, on the other hand, would unload a laundry list of every fault they could pin on their husbands, including things neither of them could control.
He noticed how often the wives used the word “enough” in their complaints: “He doesn’t love me enough.” “He doesn’t spend enough time with the kids.” “He doesn’t give me enough attention.”
When he asked, “What is enough?” the answer was almost always, “More than he is doing now.” When he pressed them for a solution, the majority answered, “Divorce.”
Think about that. To them, the solution to “not enough time with the kids” was to permanently remove the father from the home.
Women love to claim they are great multitaskers, yet they put relationships on hold to chase degrees and careers. When they are finally ready for a family, they expect a man who can juggle keeping them happy, keeping his customers happy, and keeping his bosses happy, all at the same time, while they focus only on running the household.
If they are such great multitaskers, why can they not handle school, work, and spending time with a man who wants to build a family?
A man will die to save his family.
A man will die to save his friends.
A man will die to save a stranger.
A man will die for the betterment of society.
And I am not even talking about war.
How many men in Japan went on suicide missions to clean up the reactors in Fukushima? How many men walked into the radioactive wreckage of Chernobyl knowing they would die? How many firemen charge into burning buildings to save people they have never met?
Now ask, how many women risk their lives to do anything? Most just stand outside a burning building screaming, “Somebody save my baby,” while waiting for a man to go in.
A man I once knew had a burnt and disfigured face because, as a five year old, his mother ran out of a burning house and left him behind in the same room she had just escaped from. That is the kind of love he got from the woman who gave birth to him.
So when I hear women say they do not need a man, I do not get mad, I just cringe. I wish men would go on a one week strike every year. No work, no fixing, no buying, no entertainment, no effort. Just seven days of complete silence and stillness. Let the world see what happens when men stop doing everything they are quietly expected to do.
Feminism is the art of taking a gift and turning it into a ransom note. A man freely offers an inch out of kindness, and she demands ten miles, or she takes everything outright. If you give in, you are a sucker. If you refuse, you are cheap and stingy. Meanwhile, the weak men around you tell you to compromise, to meet her in the middle, as if there is a middle ground with a parasite.
Never, under any circumstances, offer anything to an ungrateful woman. She will never respect it, she will never appreciate it, and she will always demand more. Gratitude is foreign to her. Entitlement is her native language.
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.
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.
A modern woman has no interest in a traditional family structure, because that structure places her inside a shared hierarchy rather than above it. She wants control, and a life built on continuity feels restrictive to her. She does not want a permanent bond with one man. She does not want a life that moves forward in a straight line.
Family is not a feeling or a phase. Family is a long chain of responsibility, where a man and a woman commit, become husband and wife, become father and mother, and eventually become grandparents who remain present to help raise their grandchildren. They stand watch. They help. They guide. They protect. They help raise children who are stronger, more disciplined, and more capable than they were. That continuity is the point. That permanence is the burden. That is what she rejects.
She makes sure the father of her children is never fully present in their lives. Sometimes it happens through infidelity. Sometimes it happens through divorce. The method does not matter. The result does. She wants to be the ultimate authority. She would rather cycle through stepfathers than keep a real father in place, because a stepfather can be managed in ways a biological father cannot.
Modern women chase endless dates and endless men. Pursuit must be constant. Men must be replaceable. Each man exists to fund meals, entertainment, experiences, and ego reinforcement. When one man runs out of money, patience, or usefulness, he is discarded without reflection. Then comes the next. Then the next. Then the next.
Nothing is being built. Nothing is being secured. There is no future, only transactions. Lunch replaces legacy. Excitement replaces stability. The highest bidder wins the moment and loses tomorrow.
Families collapse under this mindset, because families require restraint, loyalty, and endurance. Fathers become optional. Mothers become gatekeepers of access, deciding who stays, who goes, and when the door slams shut. Fathers are removed as if they are defective parts. Replacements are installed, often pulled from other broken homes. The cycle continues, because destruction sustains itself.
Meanwhile, the husband and father she expelled pairs with another woman who expelled her husband. Two fractured households collide and call it a fresh start. Children are shuffled like baggage between addresses. Stepfathers, stepmothers, and divided loyalties replace permanence. No roots form, because roots require stillness, and stillness terrifies people addicted to choice.
This is not family building. This is musical chairs with human lives. It is short term gratification disguised as empowerment. The results are visible everywhere. Fewer intact families. More resentment. More instability. A generation raised without anchors, asking why nothing feels solid, why nothing lasts, and why trust feels impossible.
And at the end of it all, a woman will separate a father from his children without hesitation. She will justify it, rationalize it, and call it necessary. But ask her if she would ever want that done to her own son, and the answer is immediate and absolute, “No.” That contradiction exposes everything.
She can excuse the damage when she is the one inflicting it, hiding behind feelings, narratives, and self interest, but the moment the scenario touches her son, the illusion collapses. Suddenly she understands permanence, suddenly she understands loss, suddenly she understands injustice, and suddenly she knows a father is not disposable and children are not collateral. What she will never admit is this, the pain she refuses for her son is the exact pain she is willing to inflict on another man, and the standard only changes when the consequences become personal.
From the American Revolution to every war since, men have bled and died for this country at a ratio of 1000 men for every 1 woman.
The military itself reflects that imbalance. For every woman in uniform, there are 5000 men. And yet society pretends we’re all equal when it’s time to die, but suddenly different when it’s time to sacrifice.
When that ratio hits 1 to 1, when women start dying in equal numbers on the battlefield, then and only then will I take all this “equality” talk seriously. Until then, it’s just noise.
And don’t feed me that recycled garbage about how men are the ones who love war. That’s a lie dressed in lipstick.
From the American Revolution to every war since, men have bled and died for this country at a ratio of 1000 men for every 1 woman.
The military itself reflects that imbalance. For every woman in uniform, there are 5000 men. And yet society pretends we’re all equal when it’s time to die, but suddenly different when it’s time to sacrifice.
When that ratio hits 1 to 1, when women start dying in equal numbers on the battlefield, then and only then will I take all this “equality” talk seriously. Until then, it’s just noise.
And don’t feed me that recycled garbage about how men are the ones who love war. That’s a lie dressed in lipstick.
Maxine Waters supported war. Hillary Clinton voted for war. Nancy Pelosi sent men to die. Dianne Feinstein backed military action. Barbara Boxer nodded along. Barbara Bush smiled through it. And even Laura Bush stood behind the flags and the coffins.
They all wanted war.
They just wanted **you** to die in it.
Maxine Waters supported war. Hillary Clinton voted for war. Nancy Pelosi sent men to die. Dianne Feinstein backed military action. Barbara Boxer nodded along. Barbara Bush smiled through it. And even Laura Bush stood behind the flags and the coffins.
I am 58 years old and have my daily coffee at a local restaurant bar. I often chat with the female bartender and sometimes share stories about my past relationships. I could tell she doubted some of them.
One day, as I was telling her how long I have been single, a woman in her 50s walked up and handed me her business card. She said, “You’re single? I’m single too. We single people need to stick together. We’re in the same boat.”
I took her card and replied, “We are not in the same boat. We are in the same storm.”
Her card said she was a branch manager at a bank down the street. Over the next few days she came back to the bar with a laptop, pretending to work while sitting near me. The bartenders, knowing my vision is limited, kept watch. They told me she kept glancing at me, waiting for me to make a move.
Every time she left, they said she walked out frustrated.
A subject must prove his worth to royalty. Maybe I am wrong, but I am not a servant. I will not invite a woman into my world on her terms, at her pace, and then pay and provide for all her needs, wants, and desires. Feminism declared that women are equal to men. If that is the case, then it is your turn to ask us out, entertain us properly, and prove yourselves worthy. If not, you get turned down, just like any unworthy suitor.
I have a question for you women. Do you want to walk beside a king or a servant? The choice is yours. A servant obeys. A king is treated with respect. It is that simple.
Men can take rejection. Most men have faced rejection tens of thousands of times, on the job, in sports, in business, in life. We accept that reality. We know if we ask and hear “no,” it means nothing. We move on. “No” is just a word. No real man wastes time with political correctness, because we know that words cannot harm us. It is women who fear rejection, and because of that fear, they have rarely gone after what they truly want. Men land the jobs they want because they attend hundreds of interviews undaunted. Do you really think a simple “no” will break us? Think what you want. We are built for reality, not comfort.
So what if we do not communicate the way you think we should? Tough. Once again, men are not your servants.
If you want to dance, then dance. Entertain us.
Looking for compliments? Fine. You look nice today. But you had better put effort into that look. Show up in your best outfit. If not, we do not connect. Maybe you need to rethink the jeans and the business suits. That butch, boxy look is not flattering. If men wanted to date someone in jeans, well, you can figure out the rest.
Men are not supposed to impress you or drop gifts at your feet. You want that? Hire a servant. Men are taking charge, but not in the way you define it. We are not taking charge by bending to your needs, wants, and emotional demands.
Let me ask you one final question, how many years do you think you are entitled to full royal pampering? Teenagers are dating. People in their twenties are dating. What are you waiting for?
You are not royalty. And we are not your servants.
It was Halloween night at my dad’s place when the doorbell rang. I figured it was just Trick or Treaters, so I grabbed a bowl of candy and opened the door. Instead of kids in costumes, there stood a woman in her late twenties or early thirties, holding an envelope. No smile, no costume, just standing there like she had a mission.
She said she lived down the road and had a “peace offering” for my son. I told her I had no son, only brothers. Then she admitted she was dating my brother and that their relationship had ended badly. She claimed she wanted to make peace before leaving the country that night. She handed me the envelope, her so-called offering, and asked me to give it to him. I told her I would.
After she left, I texted my brother. I told him some woman had stopped by dad’s place to leave him a card, said she was leaving town, and thought I was his father. He replied, “It is a married woman who is obsessed with me. But thanks man.”
That told me everything. Another married woman chasing excitement outside her vows, another walking disaster ready to drag a man’s life into the gutter. I am thirty two years older than my younger brother, and no one in my family knows about my MGTOW convictions or my alias, AKA John Stone. But it is obvious, he is facing the same type of poison I had to deal with decades ago. Different woman, same game, same script. They never change, only the faces change.
A man does not need to study MGTOW to feel the burn of betrayal or the chaos of a woman who treats loyalty like a temporary arrangement. He only needs to live long enough to see it happen to himself or to someone close to him. And when it does, he understands why a man must go his own way.
Women sold themselves short. They traded an apron, a loyal husband, and a strong family for independence, loneliness, and a career that never ends. They gave up the chance to build a legacy for the illusion of freedom, only to grow old regretting the family they could have had while chasing a job that killed their femininity.
I have been riding the New York City Subway system since the 1960s and on my own since the 1970s. In my younger years, I would sometimes offer my seat to the elderly and to women I believed were pregnant, until I learned the hard way about the risk of wrongly assuming a woman is pregnant.
By the mid 1980s, I began noticing something. Women were rarely giving up their seats, even for the elderly or for pregnant women. And when they did, it was usually for an elderly woman, almost never for an elderly man. On the rare occasion they did give up their seat, they did it with an attitude, as if resenting the fact that no one else had done it first, as if they were performing some reluctant act of forced charity.
In all these decades, I have only counted three women who willingly gave their seat to an elderly man. Three. That is not an oversight, that is a pattern.
Today, when I give up my seat, I give it to elderly men. Sometimes I will give it to a man who looks like he has been through hell that day. I do not give it to women, because women have long abandoned the idea that respect and courtesy go both ways. If they cannot show it, they should not expect it.
When a woman says, “I like Italian men,” or “I like Greek men,” or “I like Jewish men,” it does not matter what race or religion she mentions. She is not making a deep statement about values or culture. She is broadcasting her personal preference for the type of man she wants to be seen with over all the others she has used, dated, and discarded.
It does not matter if she has not settled down. It does not matter how many men of different backgrounds she has been with. Her statement is not about love. It is about optics. It is about status. She is telling you what type of man she prefers as a social accessory.
This is not about genuine connection. This is about her image. Her “type” is just another costume she puts on when it benefits her. And when it doesn’t, she moves on to the next.
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.
They say MGTOW men are just losers who can’t get a woman.
As for me, I could get plenty. The problem was surviving them.
I had a girlfriend who got pregnant. I thought the child was mine. I slowed down my college, took two jobs, bought everything a baby would need. When the baby was born, both parents were white, but the child was black. She blamed me for “not being there for her.” I walked away, telling myself, “Not all girls are like that,” and moved on.
The next girlfriend got pregnant early despite my caution. She was six months pregnant when I had only known her for five. Back then there were no DNA tests. A blood test at birth proved I wasn’t the father. She blamed me for “not being able to control her.” I moved on.
The third time, I chose carefully. She got pregnant. The timeline fit. Then I got a call from another man saying I was interfering with “his girl.” We met for coffee. She had been playing us both. I paid $1,800 for a DNA test that proved I wasn’t the father. She blamed me for her cheating. I moved on.
The fourth time, I got sued for child support by a woman I had never touched. She put my name on her kid’s birth certificate. The state of New York came after me. The case fell apart when it turned out I was just the second fake father she had listed. I moved on.
One day I ran into an ex. She called only to tell me she aborted my baby because I “wasn’t making enough money.” She tried to put that guilt on me. I moved on.
By then I kept women at arm’s length. Pump and dump. No addresses, no job details. Even so, one woman told her friends I raped her. Another did the same. Both were lying.
I had girlfriends who told me their stepfathers had been sleeping with them since they were teens. I had girlfriends’ mothers and aunts try to sleep with me. When I refused, they convinced their daughters to dump me. I had girlfriends who lied about being pregnant. Two were married and “forgot” to mention it. One told me she had herpes like it was a joke.
I finally got married. Her family was good. I thought this was it. Weeks after the wedding, she told me she couldn’t have children. I accepted it. Three weeks before Christmas, just before our third anniversary, she left for her new boyfriend. A week before leaving, she claimed the first time we had sex, I raped her. She married me after that, but still blamed me.
When I packed her things, I found birth control pills hidden in her closet. A year later, she had a baby with the man she left me for. She stole $250,000 from me and racked up $80,000 in debt under my name. Lawyers told me there was nothing I could do.
That was 19 years ago. I’m 55 now. I spent 22 years chasing women and 19 years living without one. I would never trade the life I have now to go back to that hell.
Since my divorce, 15 women have proposed marriage to me. I said no to every one of them. When they ask why, I tell them these stories. They all say the same things:
It does not matter how much money you have, the woman that you select (she really selects you) will find a way to accuse you of wrongdoing while she calls the lawyers (The modern-day Philistines to your Delilah), the police and judges to take your money and take away your kids because men are treated as the second-class citizens.
The icon of music history, Sir Paul McCartney, whose net worth is estimated at $1.2 billion married a one-legged woman who waited until she had a child to break up her child with an amazing man. I never really liked The Beatles but nobody can deny Paul’s contribution to history.
Most of us men, including me, would not mind living and raising a child with a woman as iconic as he is. What did this skank do? She alienated her child for a few pieces of silver and went right over to Rupert Murdock with her pickaxe, shovel and a bulk of Paul’s money.
Fuck Rupert Murdock for enabling that whore for making that kid have a temporary father and a surrogate father just to get a piece of one-legged ass.
Paul’s ex-wife is a parasite, a leach, a blood-sucking vampire whose only accomplishment is the capturing of other men’s accomplishments.
I remember saying this about my own mother, “I know all the names of my mom’s past boyfriends but I never had the chance to know my own dad.”
It took me 40 plus years to reunite with my dad. He is a pain in the ass, always nagging me to get a girlfriend and get married. His third wife is a dream. My half-brothers are cool too. I wish I had a dad during grade school and high school.
I never wanted to be another kid’s temporary dad until mommy finds a better man. That’s why I steer clear from single moms. If they are not forgiving to the most important man in their child’s life, what can she do to me?
I watch friends, neighbors, and relatives get divorced because their wives believe happiness comes from a provider. When these wives are unhappy, not because of anything the man did, but because they have achieved nothing of their own, they blame the man for not serving happiness on a silver platter. Their solution is divorce.
The man then spends a fortune on lawyers, only to watch judges play god with his children’s lives. Soon another man marries his ex-wife, moves in, and becomes the dominant figure in his children’s lives. And far too often, the divorced man repeats the cycle by marrying another homewrecker who left her own husband. Now he’s supporting children that aren’t his, while the real father watches helplessly as another man takes over his role.
I remember looking my stepfather in the eye one day and telling him, “You are not my father,” after my mother insisted he lay down the law on me. Coincidentally, his own kids said the same thing to their surrogate father when he tried it with them.
I swore I would never be a surrogate father and never allow my children to have one. The first part is in my control. The second is not, because it rests on the prerogative of a woman, and that prerogative is to change her mind. And of course, when you point that out, they all say the same line: “But not all women.”
I asked a girl what the song meant, and she told me that beautiful women are trouble and they tend to cheat. I then asked her if she was a cheater or if she ugly. She was in shock as she froze and had no clue how to answer.
If You Want to be Happy For the Rest of Your Life
There is this song, by the 1950’s R & B group The Coasters, called “Get An Ugly Girl to Marry You”.
(Partial Lyrics below)
If you want to be happy for the rest of your life
Never make a pretty woman your wife
So, for my personal point of view
Get an ugly girl to marry you
A pretty woman makes her husband look small
And very often causes his downfall
As soon as he married her and then she starts
To do the things that will break his heart
But if you make an ugly woman your wife
Ah you’ll be happy for the rest of your life
An ugly woman cooks meals on time
She’ll always give you peace of mind
If you want to be happy for the rest of your life
Never make a pretty woman your wife
So, for my personal point of view
Get an ugly girl to marry you
Don’t let your friends say you have no taste
Go ahead and marry anyway
Though her face is ugly, her eyes don’t match
Take it from me, she’s a better catch
If you want to be happy for the rest of your life
Never make a pretty woman your wife
So, for my personal point of view
Get an ugly girl to marry you
Say man! Hey baby!
I saw your wife the other day!
Yeah? Yeah, an’ she’s ugly!
Yeah, she’s ugly, but she sure can cook, baby!
Yeah, alright!
If you want to be happy for the rest of your life
Never make a pretty woman your wife
So, for my personal point of view
Get an ugly girl to marry you
Women believe they are testing men for character, and future behavior.The intention is reasonable.The method is flawed.
These tests are not measurements.They are emotional impressions, formed in moments.Moments cannot predict long term reality.
Men think in patterns, and systems.Women think in feelings, and snapshots.Systems can be tested.Snapshots cannot.
Women say they test for strength, confidence, stability, leadership, and boundaries.In practice, they create artificial pressure, and judge reactions.That does not measure those traits.It measures mood tolerance.
Confidence is mistaken for arrogance.Calm is mistaken for indifference.Patience is mistaken for weakness.
She wants stability, while introducing instability.She wants leadership, while resisting being led.She wants boundaries, but pushes against them.These contradictions make real evaluation impossible.
Consistency cannot exist, when the rules keep changing.Decisiveness cannot be judged, when there are no real consequences.Composure in a moment, does not equal emotional regulation over time.
Women value independence, until it limits attention.They admire ambition, until it reduces availability.They want reliability, but confuse it with emotional responsiveness.
Masculinity is expected to be strong, without being threatening,Dominant, without discomfort,Authoritative, without hierarchy.
That version exists only as an idea.
These tests do not happen once.They happen repeatedly, often many times a day, sometimes consciously, often unconsciously.They are not planned exams, they are emotional spot checks, triggered by mood, stress, uncertainty, or reassurance seeking.
Beyond what is already described above, she is also consistently testing for additional traits, often without realizing it.
These traits are not evaluated through structured observation or long term analysis.They are inferred from tone shifts, reactions, compliance, resistance, and emotional availability.
Because the testing is frequent, emotional, and context driven, the results are unstable.A man can pass in the morning, fail by afternoon, and be reassessed again by night, without having changed anything at all.
That is why performance does not work.A man cannot pass an emotional exam, with no grading system.
The only workable approach, is alignment.
Live your structure.Act consistently.Let incompatibility reveal itself.
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.
