Women worship gangsters, thugs, criminals, substance abusers, ex convicts, gamblers, sweet talkers, liars, cheaters, woman beaters, jerks, married men, con artists, lazy idiots, and abusers, then dress it up as empowerment.
Feminism sold them the lie that they are superior to men, and they cling to it like scripture. They pick men they can dominate so they can play queen of a crumbling castle, or they pick disasters and then fantasize about being rescued from the very mess they walked into. They are not victims, they are volunteers in their own destruction.
They call these men fixer uppers, as if he is a house in need of paint and repairs. The truth is he is a wreck by design, because they need a project to control, to mold into a slave who serves their ego. The manipulation never ends, the drama never stops, and the end result is always the same, a man gutted of his strength while she brags about saving him.
These women thrive on chaos because chaos makes them feel relevant. Stability is boring to them, peace is foreign to them, and genuine partnership is a threat to their control. They will complain about the very qualities that drew them to these men in the first place, because the dysfunction is not an accident, it is the drug. Without it they feel invisible.
The cycle is endless. She finds a man beneath her, shapes him into a weaker version of himself, and when there is nothing left to take she leaves. She will tell the next man about her terrible ex, omitting that she chose him, nurtured his worst traits, and stayed until the damage was complete. Then she repeats the process and calls it love.
