Tag: Stories

Marriage is over. What was once a lifelong commitment to build a stable family and generational wealth has been reduced to a temporary agreement, easily discarded the moment she finds a man who offers more. She will not build, she will not grow, because she cannot create anything on her own, only attach herself to someone who already has. Modern dating is no longer about love, loyalty, or legacy. It is driven by her will, and her will alone. That is the new foundation. That is the new law.
 
Make no mistake, she is in charge of everything now. She selects from an endless supply of men who approach her, praise her, offer her attention, money, and time. She decides who gets intimacy, who gets commitment, and who gets discarded. A man’s value is weighed by how well he satisfies her passing needs. His role is conditional. His position is rented, not owned.
 
Modern dating is just an endless series of trades, where she matches attractiveness for value. She chooses based on who offers her more lifestyle, more attention, more status. Even before she perceives an imperfection in her mate the search begins again. It never ended. No ceremony, no explanation, no shame.
 
Even children are no longer protected from the swap. A father is no longer a father. He is a temporary fixture, a phase. The moment she finds someone with more status or more appeal, the children are handed over to a stranger and told, “This is your new stepdad.” She strips the children from their rightful father and replaces him with a man she barely knows, because it suits her narrative. No regard for loyalty, blood, or stability. The only thing that matters is her comfort and her control.
 
She no longer sees marriage as a bond. She sees it as a stepping stone. She will marry one man while keeping her eye out for others willing to serve her. She will attend her husband’s company, show up to his events, and smile in photos while secretly searching for an upgrade. Once that upgrade appears, she leaves. She walks away socially supported, legally protected, and morally justified.
 
There are no rules anymore. Her will is the only rule, and it changes the moment a better offer appears.

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.
 
That was the last time I ever saw her.
 
What a disastrous woman she was.

The overlords have manipulated women into redefining masculinity into something passive, soft, and compliant. Media campaigns, celebrity culture, and pop psychology have all played their part. Women are taught to reject men who lead, set boundaries, and men who command respect. Instead, they are told to embrace men who fold, men who are submissive, feminized, or removed entirely.
 
Women are not choosing men who are strong and stable. They want gangsters, criminals, drug addicts, and felons instead. The modern woman will choose a man who has multiple children from multiple women over a man with a steady, secure lifestyle. She will label that stable man as boring.
 
Media has taught women to reject men and keep them away from raising their children, reducing them to a monthly or weekly child support payment. Courts limit a father’s presence to six days a month, if time permits. Masculinity is framed as toxic, while chaos is normalized.
 
Women have shamed, insulted, and humiliated men while applauding gay men and transgender individuals. They dress their sons in skirts and dresses and say it was the boy’s choice, when in truth, the mother manipulated her own child into confusion. They celebrate emasculation because they have seen it glorified in television shows, movies, music videos, and award shows.
 
Women are enamored by power, and to them, government represents that power. They reject strong masculine men in favor of a personal brand of government they believe will protect them. A man in the house offers protection, structure, and direction, but the modern woman doesn’t want that. She wants a personal bodyguard at her disposal to protect her for her own amusement whenever she decides to stir up conflict.
 
If powerful men united, they would challenge abusive governments. They would resist tyranny. They would call out overreach. But governments understand this, and they have waged war on masculinity by using women as weapons against their own households. Because if you break the man, you break the barrier between the people and tyranny.
 
Women have married the government. And the government rewards her with Section 8, WIC, SNAP, EBT, welfare. So why should she entertain the presence of a man? She has found a system that pays her to stay broken. One child equals one check. Two children, two checks. Three or four kids mean multiple streams of income. Multiple fathers equal multiple forms of assistance. So again, why should she want a man?
 
While a woman is arguing with her husband about how he made her feel, the government is taxing you more to solve problems it created. Without a man in the house, children grow into promiscuous young adults. So the government taxes you more to fund abortions and gets young girls on the payroll through social programs to control them. Without masculinity in the home, boys become confused and angry, and they run to gangs for direction. The government responds with more taxes to fight gang violence, and that money ends up in a politician’s pocket one way or another.
 
A woman’s dependence on government is now labeled as independence. She is called strong for choosing the government over her children’s father. But the strength is fake, and the damage is generational. She has been convinced that she can lead while being led. She believes she’s in control while being manipulated. And men have been told to be silent while civilization collapses from within.

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.

Women seek control because control gives them a sense of security. A woman doesn’t feel safe unless she’s in control of her environment and the people in it. This is why one of the first indicators of security for her is physical dominance. She wants a man who is taller, stronger, richer, and more powerful than other men. But it doesn’t stop there. Once she has the man, the next step is testing how much control she can gain over him. The more control she gains, the more secure she feels, or so she thinks.
 
Here’s the flaw: when she successfully controls a man, when he bends to her will, when he becomes compliant and accommodating to her emotional demands, she loses respect for him. He feels weak to her. She no longer sees him as the strong, dominant protector she once admired. But if he resists her control, if he stands firm and refuses to submit, she feels insecure. She mistakes his strength as a threat to her emotional safety, not realizing that his refusal to be controlled is exactly the kind of strength she was seeking in the first place.
 
A woman doesn’t have the analytical capacity of a logical mind to see the flaw in this test. She doesn’t understand that the security she craves isn’t found in controlling a man, but in following a man who can’t be controlled. But she’s been conditioned otherwise since childhood. She learned early how to manipulate with fake tears, fake injuries, fake complaints, and fake displays of weakness. She discovered that emotional performance could bend people to her will. By the time she becomes a grown woman, these tactics are second nature.
 
But when she encounters a man who is immune to her games, she doesn’t know how to process it. She will either reject him because he doesn’t make her feel in control, or she will double down and try harder to break him. What she doesn’t understand is that her security doesn’t come from winning control over him. It comes from knowing that she’s with a man who cannot be controlled. The very resistance she perceives as a threat is the foundation of the protection she secretly craves. But she’s too deep in her emotional reflexes to see it.

In 2007 I met a woman named Melissa at a political venue while supporting a presidential candidate. She lived close to me and came from the same small European country as I did. Married since 1980, which I naively thought made her safe. Back then I believed women fell into only two categories, those who love their families and those who do not. I had not yet learned how wrong I was.
 
We attended political conferences together, rode the New York City subway, traveled with groups to Washington DC, New Hampshire, Philadelphia, and other cities. She was friendly with some of my other friends, so she was always in the mix. Eventually I met her husband and learned she had three children. He was a decent man. Which made what came later all the more revealing.
 
One day I saw her lecturing a group of younger women, telling them to marry for money, to find a man who could keep them comfortable. She said it like it was a fact of nature, not advice. I should have seen it as her playbook, but I let it slide.
 
She once bragged about faking arguments to see where people go. That was not a quirk, it was a loyalty test. She was measuring weaknesses, looking for exits. I called her on it, asked her how long she faked them, what kind of arguments, and what the point was. She dropped it.
 
Years passed. Calls went from monthly to twice a year. We rarely crossed paths. Then COVID hit and suddenly she was calling every week. We talked about keeping our families safe, about surviving without work, about riding out the storm.
 
At the end of the COVID scare I told her about an argument with my nephew that made me cancel my offer to buy his two kids houses. She ignored the family issue and asked if I really had that kind of money. I said yes, because I am not married.
 
Soon after, she asked me to set up her new computer. I offered to do it remotely, but she claimed she did not trust the remote software. She wanted me at her apartment. I went. She cooked dinner. Her husband came home, we exchanged pleasantries. I suspected nothing.
 
Then one day she told me I should find someone to share my life with, that I needed a companion. Women sometimes say this as a way of hinting they want you to pick them without saying it directly. I did not see this at that time. I told her I had been single for 25 years, divorced, and happy. Every woman I had been with either found a reason to leave or acted like such a child I had to walk away. I said I wanted no part of it.
 
She pressed. I said no, I do not want to be anyone’s boyfriend. Not mama’s boyfriend, not grandma’s boyfriend. I will not fund a fully grown adult who refuses to support herself. She kept pushing. I said no, I am not doing this.
 
She said, “You picked the wrong ones.” I said she was right. I do pick the wrong ones. That is why I do not pick anymore. Her tone shifted. She changed the subject to politics but took a position I had never heard her take. I questioned her. We argued. She accused me of not liking her, called me a false friend, and hung up. She never called again.
 
It hit me immediately,this was her fake argument trick. Months later I heard her husband was about to retire, and his salary would drastically be reduced. Friends also asked why I had “made a move” on her. At 61, with her at 68, I had no interest. But I have seen this move before.
 
Women make advances, and when rejected, they reverse the story. I have seen it since I was ten. In my teens, mothers of friends hit on me, and when I refused, they told their kids to stay away from me. Girlfriends’ mothers have tried it. It is the same playbook. Turn the man into the aggressor when he says no.
 
The only thing that changed between me and Melissa was that she learned I had money. She thought I would break up her family to spend it on her. That was never going to happen. But like any monkey swinging through the trees, she was already searching for her next branch before letting go of the one she was on.

If I tell you I no longer want you to feed me or support me, what exactly would I owe you? Nothing. Yet in her mind, the moment she walks away, you still owe her. If she rejects your support because she found one imperfection in you, she still believes she’s entitled to take something on her way out, your money, your possessions, even your peace.
 
Can you name even one song where a woman sincerely professes her love for a man, without conditions, without self-promotion, without turning it into her personal empowerment anthem? Outside of Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You” and Tammy Wynette’s “Stand By Your Man,” the examples are almost non-existent. That silence speaks louder than a thousand choruses.
 
If she can control her mood swings, tantrums and emotional outbursts at work or around family, why is it that she unleashes them all on you? It’s because she respects them more than she respects you. You’re her emotional punching bag because she thinks you’ll never walk away.
 
Is a woman entitled to free meals, gifts and entertainment from any man as long as she’s attractive? And when her beauty fades, is she still entitled to his money anyway? Ask yourself how many working wives actually build the family’s future with their earnings, and how many secretly stash it away to buy their freedom from the man who carried them from the start.
 
What would someone have to do for you to make you willing to protect them with your life and break your back paying their bills? If the answer is “love me,” then how exactly did the women in your past thank you for the wining, dining, protecting and providing? Too often, that thanks comes in the form of boredom, resentment, or a list of demands you never signed up for.
 
Watch closely, women often start resenting their man around the time their youngest child turns four or five, or after three years with no kids. The pattern is there if you’re willing to see it. And once you see it, you’ll stop wondering what you owe, and start asking why you were expected to owe it in the first place.

A woman will block men from her friend in any way she can because she doesn’t want to be alone.
 
She’ll sabotage the conversation, interrupt the vibe and pull her friend away the moment it looks like someone else might get attention. Misery doesn’t love company, it demands it.
 
A man will do the opposite. He’ll take one for the team.
 
He’ll entertain the fat chick, laugh at her jokes and keep her distracted just so his buddy can get the hottie.
 
Men wingman. Women block.

Today I ran into a friend of mine who retired to Florida. He came back to New York City for a visit and told me something wild. His 44 year old daughter contacted him out of the blue.
 
Backstory, when he returned home from Vietnam, he settled down with a woman. She got pregnant, but before the baby was even born, she ran off while eight months pregnant. Vanished. No warning. No goodbye. Never to be seen again.
 
Turns out that baby was a girl he never got to meet. Four decades later, she found him through Ancestry.com and wrote a letter. That letter ended up being delivered to his old address, where his son lives now.
 
Shockingly, his long lost daughter lives just eight miles away from his retirement home. She has two kids, one 10, the other 13. He told me she looks like him, talks like him, and even finishes his sentences. After all these years, he’s got grandkids to watch over. And that gave him something to live for.
 
As for the mother? When her kids got older, two more boys from two different men, she hooked up with a gang of criminals. Got into heroin. Got deep. And then she died. My friend didn’t share the details, and I didn’t press him. Some endings speak for themselves.
 
But he’s at peace. This is actually the second daughter who came back. Years ago, another daughter from a past wife came storming in to confront him for not paying child support.
 
He didn’t argue. He didn’t yell. He opened his desk drawer, pulled out a box full of canceled checks, and handed it to her.
 
The receipts were always there.

Women define themselves by how they perceive their partner’s worth and status. They constantly compare their situation to the lives of other women in their sphere of influence.
 
With absolutely no regard for his needs, a woman will place all of her needs, wants, and desires, real or imaginary, entirely on that partner to fulfill.
 
Without his knowledge or consent, she silently appoints him as the one responsible for satisfying her in every possible way without offering a single clue about what she actually wants.
 
He is expected to just know. If he doesn’t, then “it wasn’t meant to be.”
 
If he fails to meet her ever-shifting, unrealistic expectations, she will begin to look at him as if he betrayed her. And then she will act like he did.

Why the hell are there so many females heading up the Fathers’ Rights movement? That makes no GOD damn sense.
 
I started this account to empower men and to shatter the angelic delusions men still hold about women.
 
I post more truth in a day than any so called Mens’ or Fathers’ Rights group combined. I never asked for money. I’m just one man.
 
They are entire organizations full of male followers being led by Judas Goat females straight to the slaughter.
 
I built my own group, Men Only. I only friend men, no females.
 
And don’t get it twisted. I’ve complimented women when it’s deserved. I’ve posted videos of great women. I do not hate strong, powerful, intelligent, creative women. I wish they all were that way.
 
But what I actually see are bossy, vicious, vindictive, money grubbing whores. Women who take pleasure in leading men by the nose and cutting them down.
 
There was one of them who had her kid’s face on her profile. No doubt a single mom who bailed on the father. And now she wants pity for the new man in her life, a man whose wife walked out on him too.
 
That same woman is now an admin. She deleted one of my posts.
 
And that right there is the problem.

We have sold ourselves way too short to women for far too long.
 
These are not the women of the 1950s, the ones who raised our kids, made our homes, and prepared our beds while we were out in the foxholes risking our necks for the family.
 
Those women made sure we came home to a clean house, folded laundry, and hot meals. They appreciated the sacrifice.
 
Today’s women want slaves.
 
They expect every want, need, and desire, real or imaginary, to be fulfilled on command. They won’t lift a finger to do anything loving for us.
 
We are expected to come home from work and cook them dinner. We’re expected to pay for $10,000 handbags, hire maids, and afford personal chefs.
 
They want new cars, designer furniture, and five star treatment every damn day. We’re told to provide happiness, attention, jewelry, and roses, all on a silver platter.
 
They demand nonstop compliments and endless validation. It’s more than any ten men could give one woman.
 
And if you don’t pamper the queen like a good little servant, she will abort your child or kidnap your kids and make you pay through the nose just for four supervised days a month.
 
And what exactly does she give back that’s worth all that?
 
It’s time to stop the worship and bring back the standard.
 
If you want to live under my protection and enjoy my provisions, then you need to prove your worth to me.
 
What can you offer a man willing to bleed for you, feed you, clothe you, and build your world?
 
Share this if you know I’m right.
 
I mean it.

Women are brainwashed from birth by a media machine designed to warp their minds. The manipulation is constant, merciless, and normalized. The more years a woman spends soaking in television, films, music videos, social media, and magazines, the more rotten her expectations become. Every screen tells her she deserves more, without effort, without sacrifice, without reality. The result is a woman who can no longer live in the real world. Fiction rots her soul, ego swells beyond recognition, and delusion becomes her only compass.
 
A powerful example came from the island nation of Fiji. Before cable television arrived, their women were proud of their natural bodies. Full-bodied women were considered healthy, attractive, and prosperous. Eating disorders didn’t exist. Then came Western media. The American TV show Dynasty, a primetime soap opera about thin, wealthy, powerful women living in luxury and constant drama, flooded their screens. Overnight, bulimia and anorexia appeared. Women who once carried cultural pride now starved themselves to mimic fictional characters who didn’t even reflect reality in their own countries. One generation of media turned a healthy culture into a graveyard of shame and neurosis.
 
This disease spread everywhere. Sex and the City taught women that whoring around was empowerment, that men were disposable, that endless drama was the definition of passion. Stability became boring. Intimacy became laughable. The audience didn’t just watch, they swallowed it whole. They modeled themselves on broken characters. They confused chaos for freedom. They destroyed their own futures while calling themselves strong.
 
Then came the Kardashians. That show didn’t just glamorize narcissism, it turned it into an industry. Now millions of women butcher their faces, inflate their lips, and chase validation like junkies chasing a fix. They sink into debt to look like copies of copies of broken role models. The lesson drilled into their heads: integrity is irrelevant, attention is everything. An entire generation reduced to counterfeit personalities begging for digital applause.
 
Even sitcoms like Friends and Seinfeld poisoned the well. Endless dating, shallow hookups, and cheap laughs at the expense of responsibility. Women laughed and absorbed the ideology. Relationships became punchlines. Commitment was mocked. They became addicted to empty freedom with no cost and no consequence. They turned themselves into the shallow characters they once idolized.
 
Music made it worse. Cardi B, Megan Thee Stallion, and their clones preach a gospel of vulgarity and greed. Men are ATM machines. Dignity is obsolete. Integrity is weakness. Young girls now scream lyrics celebrating the death of respect while calling it empowerment. They aren’t empowered, they’re enslaved by ego and blind to reality.
 
Even Disney set the stage. From birth, girls are told they’re princesses. Special, destined, entitled. No work required. No effort necessary. Just sit back and demand the fairytale. When life doesn’t deliver the prince and the castle, they don’t question the fantasy. They blame men for not performing in the script.
 
Men watch media too, but they don’t confuse it with life. A man might admire Bond or Rocky, but he uses it as fuel to sharpen himself. He doesn’t delude himself into believing the world owes him for existing. Women cross that line without hesitation. They confuse entertainment for identity. They confuse fantasy for entitlement. And the more they consume, the more impossible they are to satisfy.
 
Women no longer age into wisdom. They age into entitlement, bitterness, and disconnection. They stop asking “what do I bring?” and start demanding “why haven’t I been given more?” It’s not growth, it’s decay. Not empowerment, but rot. Broadcast on every screen, sold as freedom, packaged as strength.
 
This is not female empowerment. This is mass-produced female delusion. A corporate-fed lie that turns women into hollow shells, egos swollen, realities broken, destinies wasted. For those too far gone, the damage cannot be undone.

A woman will test your love by breaking up with you. That’s her weapon of choice. She doesn’t ask direct questions. She doesn’t tell you what’s bothering her. She orchestrates a breakup to see if you’ll fight to keep her. She wants to be chased, mourned, and begged for. And the irony? She thinks this is smart.
 
But here’s the truth: she’s not logical. She doesn’t operate in reason, she operates in emotion. If women had the same aptitude for logic as men, you’d see them dominate fields that demand it, mechanical engineering, civil infrastructure, software design, theoretical mathematics, machine learning, systems architecture. But you don’t. What you see is emotional chaos disguised as cleverness. And nowhere is that chaos more obvious than when she pretends a breakup is a test.
 
She sets the stage like she’s running a lab experiment, treating you like a lab rat while calling herself the scientist. She wants to measure your reactions under stress. If you’re devastated, she sees weakness. If you beg, she feels disgust. If you stay calm and let her go, she accuses you of never loving her.
 
Understand what’s really happening. This isn’t about love. This is about control. She wants power over your emotions. And she’ll fake a goodbye to see if you’ll collapse without her. If you do, she tells herself she’s too good for you. If you don’t, she tells herself you never cared. You lose either way.
 
The setting matters too. If she breaks up with you privately, that’s a controlled environment. She’s testing without an audience. If she breaks up with you in public, with friends or witnesses nearby, she’s already moved into defense mode. That’s not a test. That’s a setup. She wants them to watch your reaction in case she needs to frame you as the problem later. She’s not seeking closure, she’s seeking evidence.
 
So what’s the right response when she pulls this stunt? You hold the line. You don’t panic. You don’t argue. You deliver the one statement that ends the game and flips the power dynamic on the spot:
 
“You didn’t break up with me. I broke up with you the moment you tested me. That was the moment I walked. And I won’t be back.”
 
Then you leave. No debate. No emotion. No second round. You exit without giving her the chaos she was banking on. That one response tells her everything she didn’t want to hear, you were the one with control, and you won’t be manipulated.
 
If she circles back days or weeks later, looking to reopen the door, you don’t respond. She wasn’t interested in love. She was interested in leverage. And once she sees she can’t move you, she’ll find someone weaker to test next.
 
Because a woman who uses breakups as loyalty tests doesn’t want a man. She wants a puppet. And the moment you become predictable to her emotions, she cuts the strings herself.
 
There is no winning this game.
 
If you fail the test, you lose.
 
If you pass the test, you still lose.
 
Because love isn’t something that gets tested through destruction. If she truly loved you, she wouldn’t have needed a test in the first place.

Women hate other women. That’s the raw truth no one wants to admit. They size each other up with envy and contempt. They gossip, sabotage, and compete over everything, looks, status, men, attention, clothes, followers, you name it.
 
It’s amazing they’re even able to form friendships at all. Most of those “friendships” are shallow, built on convenience and mutual benefit, not loyalty or trust. The moment one gets more attention or success, the claws come out. Ask any woman how many female friends she actually trusts with her secrets or her man, you’ll hear silence.
 
They don’t trust each other in the workplace either. Women hate working for female bosses. Study after study confirms it. Women would rather be led by a man than take orders from another woman. Why? Because deep down, they know what female power looks like, catty, emotional, vindictive. Not because she’s “strict,” but because she reminds them of themselves.
 
And yet, in a twist of absolute cognitive dissonance, these same women will vote for a female politician solely because she’s a woman. Not because she’s qualified. Not because she has better ideas. But because she has the same genitalia.
 
It’s not progress, it’s desperation for validation.
 
They’ll cheer for a woman they wouldn’t trust to manage a coffee shop just to feel like they’re sticking it to the patriarchy.
 
They’ll tear down every female co-worker but post hashtags about “empowered women empower women.”
 
They’ll talk about sisterhood and unity, then go home and stalk their best friend’s Instagram stories to see if she’s gaining weight or losing attention.
 
Women’s hate for other women is so deeply ingrained, it’s practically ritual. Yet they’ll align themselves politically with women they would never associate with personally, just to keep up appearances. That’s not empowerment. That’s performative narcissism.
 
And as always, underneath it all is one common motive, control over resources. Over men. Over validation. Over who gets the spotlight.
 
As it’s been said, “The love of money is the root of all evil.” But for women, it goes even deeper, because they’re not just chasing money. They’re chasing status by proxy, the illusion of importance gained through association with powerful men or influential circles they couldn’t reach on their own. And they’ll sell each other out for it every single time.

When I meet a girl, I will sometimes tell them, “I promised myself that if I met a girl that looks as good as you do, I would buy that girl a diamond ring.” Then I would walk away.
 
Sometimes I tell them, “If I met 5 more girls like you, I would marry them all the very next day.”
 
Some days I will ask a girl I met, “I always attract the craziest women, so if you are attracted to me, I do not want your number.”
 
Most of the time when I’m the third wheel between my friend and his wife, I tell the waitress, “I wanted to bring my girlfriend but my wife would get pissed at me.”

I’m glad we live in a culture that honors mothers. Respect for motherhood matters. But what we have now is not respect. It’s blind worship. It’s a cult. A system that shields mothers and females from any form of accountability or criticism, no matter how justified.
 
Try to have a serious conversation about the rise of single motherhood and watch what happens. The moment you bring it up, the narrative gets hijacked. Suddenly, it’s not about the mother’s decisions. It’s about splitting the blame evenly or throwing it all on the father. As if deadbeat dads aren’t already dragged through the mud endlessly. As if we’re not already bombarded with non-stop reminders of how men fail.
 
Meanwhile, the mother, who made the choice to keep the child, to select the partner, to run the home solo, gets wrapped in bubble wrap. She’s a hero. A warrior. A victim. Anything but responsible for her own actions. The second you question the wisdom of single motherhood, you’re labeled a misogynist. That’s the script. Criticize the system and suddenly you hate women.
 
And nothing changes. No one listens. No one takes action. It’s the same tired cycle, deflect, accuse, silence.
 
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

From time to time I see these stories about gold-digging whores who latch onto millionaires like parasites. She locks eyes on his bank account, wraps herself around his lifestyle, and to secure the bag for life, she pops out a kid. It’s the oldest trick in the book, baby first, money forever.
 
But the story takes a turn. The millionaire isn’t as dumb as she thought. He gets a DNA test. And boom, the kid isn’t his. The real father? A thug sitting in a prison cell. That’s when I laugh. Not because it’s funny for the child, who’s just collateral damage, but because the scheming leech gets exposed and the man walks away with his freedom. It’s tragic and satisfying at the same time.
 
If I were the one gold digging, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to gamble a millionaire’s fortune for some jailhouse lowlife. That’s not just reckless, it’s delusional. That’s like holding the winning Powerball ticket and deciding to hit the bar, get wasted, and lose it in a blackout. That level of stupidity deserves every ounce of failure that follows.
 
She wasn’t just greedy. She was careless. And she bet everything on a lie. The man who tested the truth dodged a bullet. The kid pays the price. And the woman? She’s just another exposed fraud who mistook manipulation for strategy and got burned.

They become whatever men require of them. That’s their entire game. That’s why they always ask the same question, “What kind of woman do you like?” It’s not because they care about compatibility. It’s because they want instructions. They want men to hand them a blueprint so they can perform like chameleons until the target is secured.
 
I’ve spoken to too many of them to fall for the act. They’re not unique. They’re not mysterious. They’re not complicated. They’re running the same software with different lipstick. They will say and do whatever it takes to get a man to open his wallet, his door, and his life. Once they get what they want, the mask comes off.
 
At their core, they’re looking for someone to put food in their mouths. That’s the mission. Everything else is theater. They will act submissive, loyal, nurturing, until they get the house, the ring, the car, the lifestyle. Then they switch up. Every time.
 
They hear “The grass is always greener on the other side” and treat it as a call to action. A roadmap. Not a warning. It tells them to keep looking, keep climbing, keep trading up. It tells them that loyalty is for fools and commitment is a burden.
 
They don’t want to be better women. They want to be whatever gets them paid. Until it stops working.

Help a man out once and when you meet again years later, he will remember. He’ll look you in the eye, thank you without hesitation, and offer his hand if you ever need it. Gratitude is stamped into his code because he knows what it means to struggle and to be lifted.
 
Do the same for a woman and the response is different. She won’t thank you. She’ll ask for more. She’ll act like your past help was a down payment on an endless debt. If you confront her about vanishing, she’ll offer a dozen excuses for not staying in touch, most of them lies designed to mask the guilt she carries for deliberately cutting you off after getting what she wanted.
 
Instead of appreciation, you’ll get deflection. Instead of loyalty, you’ll get critique. She’ll point out your flaws, your missteps, your imperfections, anything to justify why she ghosted you, ignored your kindness, and vanished until she needed something again.
 
A man sees help as a bond. A woman sees help as leverage. Once it’s spent, so are you.

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.

I hate hearing a man raised by a single mother badmouth his father like he’s repeating scripture. He’ll spit venom about a man he barely knew, parroting every word his mother fed him without question. The bitterness sounds rehearsed because it is. He was trained to hate the man who wasn’t there, never told why he wasn’t there, never allowed to consider the full story.
 
What’s worse is that even after life hands him the same script, after his own child gets ripped from his arms by a bitter ex, after he’s alienated, lied about, and erased, he still doesn’t wake up. He still blames his own father, never realizing he’s now living the same nightmare that his father probably endured.
 
His baby’s mother runs off, poisons his child against him, and paints him as the villain, and he still can’t connect the dots. Still can’t see the generational hit job. Still can’t admit that maybe his father wasn’t the monster he was told about. Maybe his father was just the first casualty.
 
Doesn’t he see the pattern? Or is it easier to keep blaming the ghost than face the truth?

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.

Here’s a guaranteed way to test if a girl is even remotely interested in you, ask her if she’s married or has a boyfriend.
 
If she says “no,” she might be lying, but that lie is revealing. It means she’s sizing you up. She sees potential. She’s keeping the door cracked open, just in case you’re worth her time.
 
If she says “yes,” she might still be lying, but one thing’s clear, she’s not interested in you. That answer is her escape hatch. It’s her polite rejection without confrontation. If she wanted you to pursue her, she wouldn’t bring up another man.
 
When I ask that question, I don’t care what the answer is. I don’t react. I flip the script. I congratulate her. If she says she’s single, I tell her she’s lucky to be strong, free, and independent. If she says she’s taken, I tell her she’s lucky to have a man willing to commit in a world full of women who burned that bridge.
 
Either way, it scrambles her expectations. She doesn’t get validation. She gets a mental curveball. No begging. No chasing. No approval-seeking. Just a cold reminder that I’m not auditioning for her. She’s being evaluated too.

I was watching a documentary on Scientology, the so-called religion created by science fiction writer L. Ron Hubbard. At one point, the IRS refused to recognize the Church of Scientology as a legitimate religion. They saw it for what it was: a cash machine disguising itself with spiritual packaging. The IRS accused them of fraudulently avoiding taxes and demanded $1.5 billion in back taxes and penalties.
 
But Scientology didn’t fold. They didn’t beg. They fought fire with fire. They launched an all-out legal war, filing over 2,500 lawsuits against the IRS in courts across America. It was a legal siege. One the IRS couldn’t afford to fight. Eventually, the pressure became too much, and the IRS surrendered, recognizing Scientology as a religion and granting it tax-exempt status.
 
Now ask yourself this, if an organization built on the writings of a sci-fi author can pull this off, why can’t men? Why can’t we band together and force the system to recognize the abuse, the alienation, the financial destruction inflicted by the family court machine?
 
Imagine 200,000 men, unified and strategic, filing lawsuits on the same day, targeting the corruption, the gender bias, the unconstitutional rulings, and the rights violations that happen daily in family courts. Not one lawsuit. Thousands. Not spread out. Coordinated.
 
The goal isn’t just to clog the system. It’s to expose it. To make it undeniable. To make it national news. Just like Scientology did to the IRS.
 
The first step? Organize. Build a legal framework. Crowdsource lawyers who are not afraid to confront the court structure. Fund the strategy through mass contribution. Choose the date. Strike together.
 
This isn’t fantasy. It’s precedent. The system doesn’t change because you ask. It changes when you make it cost too much to stay the same.