How many men have you divorced?
How many men weren’t good enough for you?
How many men were too nice, too kind, too boring for your taste?
How many children did you make fatherless?
How many fathers did you rip away from their children?
You’ve spent years chasing gangsters, thugs, criminals, alcoholics, and junkies. You gave them everything. Your time, your body, your loyalty. Meanwhile, you kicked the decent man in the balls just to amuse yourself. You rejected the man who would have stayed. You shamed the man who would have built a future with you. You sabotaged every man who didn’t fit your drama script.
Now you’re in your 40s. The world no longer cares for your childish games. The attention has dried up. So you lash out at your own children, but even they don’t like you. They see through you. They know who you are.
You tell me you want to be accepted for who you are. But you never accepted the men in your past for who they were. You demanded they change. You demanded they serve your needs while you gave them nothing but complaints and conditions. You destroyed good men because they didn’t entertain your chaos.
You stole a father from his children. You stole children from their father. And now, you want me to trust you? Trust you long enough to feed you, clothe you, and clean up the mess you made? Are you insane?
You are still hunting for Mr. Perfect. Still searching for a man who will tolerate your nonsense. But now, the younger women are taking your place. They are stepping into the spotlight you lost. You will cheer them on as they follow the same path to self-destruction. They will become you, and you’re too blind to see it.
Yet after all this, you will say you’ve done nothing wrong. You will accuse me of hating all women because I dared to tell you the truth about yourself. You don’t want the truth. You want another fool to lie to you. I’m not that fool.
