She will blame you for her betrayal.
TheXYGhost
TheXYGhost
Wednesday, December 31, 2025
Kill the Boy, Build the Man
Men are not born, they are made. The boy must die so the man can live. That death is not gentle, it is not merciful, it is violent, it is loud, it is necessary. If you keep the boy alive, you will stay weak forever. The world does not need boys trapped in grown bodies, crying about fairness, thinking with their mother’s emotions, reacting like a child every time life denies them something. Kill the boy. Bury him. Never let him crawl back into you.
Steel is not soft, steel is not born, steel is forged in fire, beaten without mercy, hammered until it cannot break. You will be melted down by pain, hammered by betrayal, quenched in ice when life decides you deserve no warmth, sharpened by failure until you are dangerous to anyone who tries to dull you. Every hardship is a strike of the hammer, every disappointment the anvil, every scar proof you did not run. If you are not being forged, you are rusting.
If you waste your life on distractions, you are already finished. Men rot in front of glowing screens watching strangers chase a ball while their children collapse in school and their bank accounts bleed dry. They drown in headlines about riots in Sweden, migrants in Nigeria, a plane crash in Canada, a train derailment in Mexico — none of it matters, none of it saves them, none of it makes them strong. Distraction is a leash around your neck, and every minute you give to it you are choosing weakness, you are choosing slavery, you are choosing death.
Ignore your boss’s insults. Ignore your parents’ complaints. Ignore the laughter of friends who want you small. Ignore the politicians who promise salvation because history proves they will always lie, always betray, and never save you. Politicians do not love you, they never have, they never will. If you cannot cut off distractions, you will stay chained to them forever. The world is designed to keep you weak, and if you do not resist, you deserve to stay weak.
Reject therapy. It will keep you weak for decades. Stay out of churches. They exist to feed broken women new providers, to replace the men they already used up and discarded. Be your own priest, your own confessor. Stand tall, bleed in silence, fix your own problems. Your pain is yours to master.
If life does not forge you into a man, forge yourself. If life will not break you, break yourself before it’s too late. Comfort is poison, it rots men from the inside until they are soft, weak, useless. Put yourself in the fire on purpose. Go into the gym and lift until your arms shake, until the bar crushes you and you fight to rise again. Run until your lungs are on fire, until your legs collapse under you. Crawl, rise, run again. Hurt, bleed, suffer until nothing is left, then go back and do it again. Self-imposed pain is the only honest teacher.
Become the best person you could ever be or stay worthless. There is no middle ground. Become the best at your job no matter how small it is. Become the best at whatever you touch. If you cannot be physically strong, become mentally strong. Spend hours in study, hours in learning, hours sharpening your mind into a weapon. Master your craft until no one can touch you.
If your job is menial, dominate it. If you flip burgers, flip them perfectly. If you stock shelves, make them shine. You are not working for your boss, you are working to sharpen yourself into a weapon no matter who signs the paycheck. Make yourself precise, relentless, unstoppable. Stop crying. Stop complaining. Stop bitching. Stop moaning. The world does not care. Find ways to improve yourself at work, home or play. Be the man they cannot replace, the man they cannot break, the man they cannot ignore.
Seek pain before pain seeks you. Choose harder roads, heavier weights, greater challenges. Stop chasing easy days, start chasing days that scare you. Burn until you are fireproof. Sweat until you are empty. Look pain in the eye and dare it to do worse. Pain is not your enemy, pain is your test, and every time you survive it you rise stronger.
Learn to fight. Learn when to fight. Not every battle is with fists. Some fights are words, some are silence. Fight rarely. Fight precisely. Fight to win. You are a lion. A barking chihuahua means nothing to you. Ignore insults. Ignore weak attempts to provoke you. They are just noise. Protect your family. Protect yourself. Protect your property. When you must fight, end it fast and end it clean.
A man who avoids the fire is soft metal, brittle and weak, snapping under the first strike. A man who forges himself cannot be broken. No insult can touch him, no betrayal can crush him, no woman can destroy him, no failure can stop him.
You will be unshakable, unmovable, untouchable. A man carved out of fire and iron who does not bend, who does not beg, who does not back down. That is what it takes. That is what is required.
And remember this:
Nobody loves you.
Nobody will ever love you.
Nobody has ever loved you.
Maybe your mother, maybe your father, but that is where it ends.
This is not tragedy.
This is freedom.
Nobody wakes up thinking about you.
Nobody wakes up planning to make your life better.
Nobody is coming to save you.
You are the master of your destiny.
You are the architect of your strength.
You must build the man you want to be with your own hands.
Nobody will do it for you.
Nobody will care for you.
Nobody will ever care for you.
Embrace this.
Harden yourself.
Free yourself.
Stop waiting.
Stop begging.
Stop hoping.
Act.
Build.
Dominate.
Become strong.
Steel is not soft, steel is not born, steel is forged in fire, beaten without mercy, hammered until it cannot break. You will be melted down by pain, hammered by betrayal, quenched in ice when life decides you deserve no warmth, sharpened by failure until you are dangerous to anyone who tries to dull you. Every hardship is a strike of the hammer, every disappointment the anvil, every scar proof you did not run. If you are not being forged, you are rusting.
If you waste your life on distractions, you are already finished. Men rot in front of glowing screens watching strangers chase a ball while their children collapse in school and their bank accounts bleed dry. They drown in headlines about riots in Sweden, migrants in Nigeria, a plane crash in Canada, a train derailment in Mexico — none of it matters, none of it saves them, none of it makes them strong. Distraction is a leash around your neck, and every minute you give to it you are choosing weakness, you are choosing slavery, you are choosing death.
Ignore your boss’s insults. Ignore your parents’ complaints. Ignore the laughter of friends who want you small. Ignore the politicians who promise salvation because history proves they will always lie, always betray, and never save you. Politicians do not love you, they never have, they never will. If you cannot cut off distractions, you will stay chained to them forever. The world is designed to keep you weak, and if you do not resist, you deserve to stay weak.
Reject therapy. It will keep you weak for decades. Stay out of churches. They exist to feed broken women new providers, to replace the men they already used up and discarded. Be your own priest, your own confessor. Stand tall, bleed in silence, fix your own problems. Your pain is yours to master.
If life does not forge you into a man, forge yourself. If life will not break you, break yourself before it’s too late. Comfort is poison, it rots men from the inside until they are soft, weak, useless. Put yourself in the fire on purpose. Go into the gym and lift until your arms shake, until the bar crushes you and you fight to rise again. Run until your lungs are on fire, until your legs collapse under you. Crawl, rise, run again. Hurt, bleed, suffer until nothing is left, then go back and do it again. Self-imposed pain is the only honest teacher.
Become the best person you could ever be or stay worthless. There is no middle ground. Become the best at your job no matter how small it is. Become the best at whatever you touch. If you cannot be physically strong, become mentally strong. Spend hours in study, hours in learning, hours sharpening your mind into a weapon. Master your craft until no one can touch you.
If your job is menial, dominate it. If you flip burgers, flip them perfectly. If you stock shelves, make them shine. You are not working for your boss, you are working to sharpen yourself into a weapon no matter who signs the paycheck. Make yourself precise, relentless, unstoppable. Stop crying. Stop complaining. Stop bitching. Stop moaning. The world does not care. Find ways to improve yourself at work, home or play. Be the man they cannot replace, the man they cannot break, the man they cannot ignore.
Seek pain before pain seeks you. Choose harder roads, heavier weights, greater challenges. Stop chasing easy days, start chasing days that scare you. Burn until you are fireproof. Sweat until you are empty. Look pain in the eye and dare it to do worse. Pain is not your enemy, pain is your test, and every time you survive it you rise stronger.
Learn to fight. Learn when to fight. Not every battle is with fists. Some fights are words, some are silence. Fight rarely. Fight precisely. Fight to win. You are a lion. A barking chihuahua means nothing to you. Ignore insults. Ignore weak attempts to provoke you. They are just noise. Protect your family. Protect yourself. Protect your property. When you must fight, end it fast and end it clean.
A man who avoids the fire is soft metal, brittle and weak, snapping under the first strike. A man who forges himself cannot be broken. No insult can touch him, no betrayal can crush him, no woman can destroy him, no failure can stop him.
You will be unshakable, unmovable, untouchable. A man carved out of fire and iron who does not bend, who does not beg, who does not back down. That is what it takes. That is what is required.
And remember this:
Nobody loves you.
Nobody will ever love you.
Nobody has ever loved you.
Maybe your mother, maybe your father, but that is where it ends.
This is not tragedy.
This is freedom.
Nobody wakes up thinking about you.
Nobody wakes up planning to make your life better.
Nobody is coming to save you.
You are the master of your destiny.
You are the architect of your strength.
You must build the man you want to be with your own hands.
Nobody will do it for you.
Nobody will care for you.
Nobody will ever care for you.
Embrace this.
Harden yourself.
Free yourself.
Stop waiting.
Stop begging.
Stop hoping.
Act.
Build.
Dominate.
Become strong.
TheXYGhost 069
Feminists just need to find themselves a feminized guy and be happy to boss him around.
TheXYGhost
TheXYGhost
Tuesday, December 30, 2025
Think About This
Do you want to waste your time, energy, and money buying expensive dinners, gifts, and entertainment for a creature that believes she is entitled to your resources, just for the slim chance she might grant you the privilege of being her personal servant and financial slave?
Or do you want a woman who is constantly on her toes, working to pamper your life, proving through her actions that she values your presence, and ensuring that when the time comes you will protect her without hesitation?
The choice is simple. One path bleeds you dry while she measures your worth in dollars spent. The other path builds loyalty and respect because she earns her place beside you. Most men chase approval like trained dogs, handing over their wallet for scraps of attention. A man who knows his value will never compete for the chance to serve, he will make her compete for the privilege of being protected.
Or do you want a woman who is constantly on her toes, working to pamper your life, proving through her actions that she values your presence, and ensuring that when the time comes you will protect her without hesitation?
The choice is simple. One path bleeds you dry while she measures your worth in dollars spent. The other path builds loyalty and respect because she earns her place beside you. Most men chase approval like trained dogs, handing over their wallet for scraps of attention. A man who knows his value will never compete for the chance to serve, he will make her compete for the privilege of being protected.
Friday, December 26, 2025
TheXYGhost 064
97% of ALL violent criminals were raised by a single mother.
80% of women initiate their divorce.
Do the math.
TheXYGhost
80% of women initiate their divorce.
Do the math.
TheXYGhost
Thursday, December 25, 2025
TheXYGhost III 360
Character Test #2
Tell her you want to pay for a vacation for her and her best friend. If she gets excited, let her go.
TheXYGhost
Tell her you want to pay for a vacation for her and her best friend. If she gets excited, let her go.
TheXYGhost
TheXYGhost II 360
We need to re-implement the dowry system. Women need to offer a dowry for a man to marry her.
TheXYGhost
TheXYGhost
I Can't Believe What Fabio Told Me
A number of years ago I was sitting at a bar in Caffe Roma in Beverly Hills, California (http://www.cafferomabeverlyhills.com/) waiting for my friends to arrive. They were late, again. After a while of sitting there nursing my drink, a well-dressed man with long blonde hair stood next to me. As it turned out, this gentleman was Fabio, Fabio Lanzoni (http://tinyurl.com/zvbsj5b). You know, the Italian model who graced the covers of countless Harlequin Romance Novels (http://tinyurl.com/j3gq8jw) and starred in the famous I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter ads (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xszIaNpYILY). Yes, that Fabio, the icon of female desire.
We began talking. It was surreal. After a while, I asked him if he was married. A very serious look came over his face, and with a tone I will never forget, he replied,
“Do I look stupid to you?”
Then he added, “Women are crazy.”
Here I was, sitting and talking with a man who could attract any woman he wanted purely by his looks and popularity, yet he kept women at arm’s length and nothing more.
As you can see from his Wikipedia page (http://tinyurl.com/zayz5hm), he has never been married. If a man like him won’t get married, why should you?
By the way, congratulations to Fabio on becoming a U.S. citizen as of March 16, 2016. Welcome to our country, we’re proud to have you.
We began talking. It was surreal. After a while, I asked him if he was married. A very serious look came over his face, and with a tone I will never forget, he replied,
“Do I look stupid to you?”
Then he added, “Women are crazy.”
Here I was, sitting and talking with a man who could attract any woman he wanted purely by his looks and popularity, yet he kept women at arm’s length and nothing more.
As you can see from his Wikipedia page (http://tinyurl.com/zayz5hm), he has never been married. If a man like him won’t get married, why should you?
By the way, congratulations to Fabio on becoming a U.S. citizen as of March 16, 2016. Welcome to our country, we’re proud to have you.
Wednesday, December 24, 2025
TheXYGhost III 359
Character Test #1
Casually ask her what she thinks about an open relationship.
TheXYGhost
Casually ask her what she thinks about an open relationship.
TheXYGhost
TheXYGhost II 359
When she finds your weakest point and exploits it, she will call you abusive.
TheXYGhost
TheXYGhost
Former Feminists Are Still Dictating
There are women out there now calling themselves antifeminists, proudly claiming they were once hardcore feminists before they “saw the light.” They parade themselves as repentant insiders, as if that gives them moral authority to speak against the beast they helped create. Do not be fooled. These are the same women who once thrived on attention, poisoning the culture with their vile demands, pushing the war on men further every year. Now they have simply switched lanes, jumping from the feminist highway to the antifeminist bandwagon, still chasing the same drug, attention.
They loudly denounce their feminist past, the last 60 years of their own ideology, yet they reject any return to proven traditional roles that worked for centuries. They are not looking for stability or balance. They are looking for a new way to control the direction of society without admitting that they were the architects of its destruction. In the past, women like them wanted the world to bend to their demands. Now that their demands have rotted the foundation, they want the world to try a new experiment, undefined, untested, and still under their control.
They will never accept the truth that the most functional society is one where people are left alone to live as they choose, without ideological engineering. That is not good enough for them because it means surrendering their grip on power.
So I ask, where do you want to go? Do you want to take a road planned by someone who has already led you into a ditch and trust them to choose the next route? Do you want to waste decades walking blind into another failed social experiment? As for me, I will not follow them, I will not walk the path of those who destroyed what worked, and I will not dictate where another man should go. I am going my own way, and I will burn every bridge they try to build to pull me back under their control.
They loudly denounce their feminist past, the last 60 years of their own ideology, yet they reject any return to proven traditional roles that worked for centuries. They are not looking for stability or balance. They are looking for a new way to control the direction of society without admitting that they were the architects of its destruction. In the past, women like them wanted the world to bend to their demands. Now that their demands have rotted the foundation, they want the world to try a new experiment, undefined, untested, and still under their control.
They will never accept the truth that the most functional society is one where people are left alone to live as they choose, without ideological engineering. That is not good enough for them because it means surrendering their grip on power.
So I ask, where do you want to go? Do you want to take a road planned by someone who has already led you into a ditch and trust them to choose the next route? Do you want to waste decades walking blind into another failed social experiment? As for me, I will not follow them, I will not walk the path of those who destroyed what worked, and I will not dictate where another man should go. I am going my own way, and I will burn every bridge they try to build to pull me back under their control.
TheXYGhost 062
Unconditional love means that she will love you under the condition that you provide for her every want, need and desire, until she finds someone better.
TheXYGhost
TheXYGhost
Tuesday, December 23, 2025
TheXYGhost III 358
She wants men to approach her now in her 30’s, even though back in her 20s, she used to laugh at them and turn them down just to humiliate them.
TheXYGhost
TheXYGhost
You Can't Compromise With Greedy and Selfish Women
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.
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.
TheXYGhost 061
Ask a feminist if she wants to date a man that is her equal and watch her head explode.
TheXYGhost
TheXYGhost
Monday, December 22, 2025
TheXYGhost III 357
She hates competing for a man nobody wants. Social proof is the way she thinks.
TheXYGhost
TheXYGhost
TheXYGhost II 357
Her : Don’t you want a companion?
TheXYGhost : I want women to be free and independent.
TheXYGhost
TheXYGhost : I want women to be free and independent.
TheXYGhost
A Married Woman and My Brother
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.
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.
Sunday, December 21, 2025
TheXYGhost III 356
She deliberately and publicly emasculates any man that comes into her life but wonders why they never return.
TheXYGhost
TheXYGhost
That Girl Likes You
After my divorce was finalized and several months had passed, I decided to try something different. I thought maybe going to church for the first time might improve my odds of finding a decent woman to share my life with. I picked a church far from my neighborhood, somewhere no one I knew would attend, and I sat quietly through the services without drawing attention to myself.
Before long, a few men approached me and welcomed me warmly. They offered me genuine support and solid, logical advice without trying to preach at me. They invited me to Wednesday night Bible studies, before-and-after sermon discussions, church events, and even welcomed me into their homes for private study sessions. These men opened their hearts to me, and I will always appreciate that.
Then the test came. One Sunday, while I was setting up snacks for an after-sermon lecture, an older woman approached and asked my name. She introduced me to two of her elderly friends, then pulled me aside to quietly ask what kind of work I did. My guard was down. I had no idea she was sizing me up like a cattle buyer at an auction. I told her my occupation. Her eyes lit up and she nearly exploded with excitement, saying, “Oh! Oh! Oh! You’re rich! This girl, Wilma, likes you.”
I told her politely that I was not there for that. Still, the name Wilma stuck in my head. I had never spoken to a Wilma or been introduced to one, and with a name like that I knew I would remember it. All I could think of was Fred Flintstone’s wife from the old cartoon.
A few weeks later, the second woman out of that trio cornered me and asked the same questions. When she finally got to “What do you do for a living?” I told her, already suspicious. Just like the first one, she squealed, “Ooooh! You’re rich! Did you know that Wilma likes you?” It felt like I had stepped into the Twilight Zone. I told her again that I was not there to be set up with anyone and that I was perfectly fine as I was.
The following week, the first woman told me I should pray during the sermon for GOD to introduce me to someone after the service, and that my prayer would be answered. I told her I was not interested. She insisted that I should pray anyway so God’s will could be “revealed” to me.
I will admit, the mystery of who Wilma was kept nagging at me. Over the following weeks I looked for her without asking. I attended different groups, lingered in the hallways, scanning the crowd. Then one day, I saw her. Wilma. A tall, elegant, very attractive black woman.
I walked over and stood near her, waiting for her to say something. After all, two women had told me she liked me. Why would they lie? But she said nothing. She did not even seem to know who I was.
Later, while preparing for a children’s event, the third old woman approached me in front of others and asked what I did for a living. I thought, here we go again. I told her my occupation, and right on cue she said, “Ooooh, you’re rich…” I cut her off before she could continue, saying, “If I had ten times the money of Bill Gates, I would still not be as rich as Jesus Christ.” The three old women exchanged puzzled looks. I was done with their nonsense.
The next Sunday, I sat on the opposite side of the church. At the end of the service, the announcements included the engagement of Wilma and Jacob. I turned to look at the three women. Their faces were sour. My suspicion was clear: they did not approve of Wilma being engaged to a white man. They had been trying to maneuver me into the picture as some sort of “acceptable” match in their eyes. Maybe I was wrong, maybe not. Either way, they never mentioned Wilma again.
This is the lesson. Even in a church, the politics of attraction, money, and social approval are alive and well. They will size you up, assign you value, and try to place you where they think you belong. If you are not careful, you will find yourself playing a part in a script you never agreed to.
In retrospect, I guess I should’ve initially asked them to introduce her.
Before long, a few men approached me and welcomed me warmly. They offered me genuine support and solid, logical advice without trying to preach at me. They invited me to Wednesday night Bible studies, before-and-after sermon discussions, church events, and even welcomed me into their homes for private study sessions. These men opened their hearts to me, and I will always appreciate that.
Then the test came. One Sunday, while I was setting up snacks for an after-sermon lecture, an older woman approached and asked my name. She introduced me to two of her elderly friends, then pulled me aside to quietly ask what kind of work I did. My guard was down. I had no idea she was sizing me up like a cattle buyer at an auction. I told her my occupation. Her eyes lit up and she nearly exploded with excitement, saying, “Oh! Oh! Oh! You’re rich! This girl, Wilma, likes you.”
I told her politely that I was not there for that. Still, the name Wilma stuck in my head. I had never spoken to a Wilma or been introduced to one, and with a name like that I knew I would remember it. All I could think of was Fred Flintstone’s wife from the old cartoon.
A few weeks later, the second woman out of that trio cornered me and asked the same questions. When she finally got to “What do you do for a living?” I told her, already suspicious. Just like the first one, she squealed, “Ooooh! You’re rich! Did you know that Wilma likes you?” It felt like I had stepped into the Twilight Zone. I told her again that I was not there to be set up with anyone and that I was perfectly fine as I was.
The following week, the first woman told me I should pray during the sermon for GOD to introduce me to someone after the service, and that my prayer would be answered. I told her I was not interested. She insisted that I should pray anyway so God’s will could be “revealed” to me.
I will admit, the mystery of who Wilma was kept nagging at me. Over the following weeks I looked for her without asking. I attended different groups, lingered in the hallways, scanning the crowd. Then one day, I saw her. Wilma. A tall, elegant, very attractive black woman.
I walked over and stood near her, waiting for her to say something. After all, two women had told me she liked me. Why would they lie? But she said nothing. She did not even seem to know who I was.
Later, while preparing for a children’s event, the third old woman approached me in front of others and asked what I did for a living. I thought, here we go again. I told her my occupation, and right on cue she said, “Ooooh, you’re rich…” I cut her off before she could continue, saying, “If I had ten times the money of Bill Gates, I would still not be as rich as Jesus Christ.” The three old women exchanged puzzled looks. I was done with their nonsense.
The next Sunday, I sat on the opposite side of the church. At the end of the service, the announcements included the engagement of Wilma and Jacob. I turned to look at the three women. Their faces were sour. My suspicion was clear: they did not approve of Wilma being engaged to a white man. They had been trying to maneuver me into the picture as some sort of “acceptable” match in their eyes. Maybe I was wrong, maybe not. Either way, they never mentioned Wilma again.
This is the lesson. Even in a church, the politics of attraction, money, and social approval are alive and well. They will size you up, assign you value, and try to place you where they think you belong. If you are not careful, you will find yourself playing a part in a script you never agreed to.
In retrospect, I guess I should’ve initially asked them to introduce her.
TheXYGhost 059
You want a $150K ring to prove that I love you?
Where is your proof to me that you love me?
TheXYGhost
Where is your proof to me that you love me?
TheXYGhost
Saturday, December 20, 2025
TheXYGhost III 355
She wasted all her good years on men she used and never liked, yet she finds a way to blame men for her choices.
TheXYGhost
TheXYGhost
Women and Tipping
I have spoken with waiters, waitresses, and cab drivers. They all say the same thing, men tip better than women. In the hospitality industry, the overwhelming majority of tips come from men. I know many New York City cab drivers who will pass over a female passenger and choose a male instead for one simple reason, men pay better and they know it.
The only time I have ever seen a woman tip well is if she has worked as a waitress herself. That is the rare exception. Most of the time, the money leaves her hand like it is a piece of her soul being torn away.
So which sex is greedy, stingy, and selfish? Keep that in mind the next time a woman calls you cheap because you refused to buy her the most expensive meal and wine on the first date. Remember it when she expects you to pick up every tab, cover every outing, and fund her evening without a word of thanks. The truth is, the ones shouting “cheap” the loudest are often the ones who tip the least and give the least.
The only time I have ever seen a woman tip well is if she has worked as a waitress herself. That is the rare exception. Most of the time, the money leaves her hand like it is a piece of her soul being torn away.
So which sex is greedy, stingy, and selfish? Keep that in mind the next time a woman calls you cheap because you refused to buy her the most expensive meal and wine on the first date. Remember it when she expects you to pick up every tab, cover every outing, and fund her evening without a word of thanks. The truth is, the ones shouting “cheap” the loudest are often the ones who tip the least and give the least.
Friday, December 19, 2025
TheXYGhost II 354
The men of old used to make their women respect them with the same belt they correct their kids.
TheXYGhost
TheXYGhost
Women in Prisons
Over my lifetime I have spoken to many corrections officers, both men and women, from New York City, New York State, New Jersey, New Hampshire, Arizona, and California. One truth stands out without question. The men in prison are violent and dangerous, and the worst of them end up featured on television shows about maximum security nightmares. But the women, according to every officer I have spoken with, are a different breed entirely, nasty, filthy, manipulative, and disgusting in ways that make violence look almost straightforward by comparison.
Every officer I have spoken to has told me they would rather work in a men’s prison than a women’s. In a men’s facility you know what you are dealing with. Violence is open, visible, and predictable. But in a women’s prison the filth is not just physical, it is mental. It is constant scheming, constant drama, constant attempts to weaponize lies and manipulation. The danger is not just in fists and blades, it is in the games they play to ruin anyone they can reach.
When seasoned officers, hardened by years inside the walls, tell you they prefer the company of male inmates over female ones, it should tell you everything you need to know about the reality of female behavior when the masks come off.
Every officer I have spoken to has told me they would rather work in a men’s prison than a women’s. In a men’s facility you know what you are dealing with. Violence is open, visible, and predictable. But in a women’s prison the filth is not just physical, it is mental. It is constant scheming, constant drama, constant attempts to weaponize lies and manipulation. The danger is not just in fists and blades, it is in the games they play to ruin anyone they can reach.
When seasoned officers, hardened by years inside the walls, tell you they prefer the company of male inmates over female ones, it should tell you everything you need to know about the reality of female behavior when the masks come off.
TheXYGhost 057
If a woman's prerogative is to change her mind, why ask her opinion in the first place?
TheXYGhost
TheXYGhost
Thursday, December 18, 2025
TheXYGhost III 353
If a woman is divorced or is a single mom, she has proven to the world that she does not value men or family.
TheXYGhost
TheXYGhost
The Divorce Equation
There is absolutely a formula for predicting when a woman will separate from her man. It is not based on feelings, romance, or fate, it is a timeline driven by cold calculation and self interest.
• If there are no children between them, she will leave within three years. That is the limit of her patience when there is nothing binding her to him.
• If there are children, she will wait until the youngest is four or five years old before ending it. This is when the dependency stage is over and her need for the man as a provider begins to feel optional.
• If the relationship survives beyond that point, you may have one of the rare ones who values commitment, but understand that rarity is not the rule.
• If a woman divorces her husband after seven or eight years, you can almost guarantee there are at least two children involved. The timeline matches the stage where she has secured the family she wanted and now feels free to leave.
I have never seen this pattern written anywhere, yet I have seen it play out again and again for decades. The variables change, the excuses vary, but the equation remains the same. It is not an accident, it is not random, and it is not love. It is strategy.
• If there are no children between them, she will leave within three years. That is the limit of her patience when there is nothing binding her to him.
• If there are children, she will wait until the youngest is four or five years old before ending it. This is when the dependency stage is over and her need for the man as a provider begins to feel optional.
• If the relationship survives beyond that point, you may have one of the rare ones who values commitment, but understand that rarity is not the rule.
• If a woman divorces her husband after seven or eight years, you can almost guarantee there are at least two children involved. The timeline matches the stage where she has secured the family she wanted and now feels free to leave.
I have never seen this pattern written anywhere, yet I have seen it play out again and again for decades. The variables change, the excuses vary, but the equation remains the same. It is not an accident, it is not random, and it is not love. It is strategy.
TheXYGhost 056
MGTOW is about men choosing their freedom over being a servant "provider".
Why do women hate that?
TheXYGhost
Why do women hate that?
TheXYGhost
Wednesday, December 17, 2025
TheXYGhost II 352
After she divorced her husband for cheating, she was the side piece for 5 married men.
TheXYGhost
TheXYGhost
TheXYGhost 055
Her : Buy me a ring or I'm leaving you.
TheXYGhost : Retract that demand or I'll leave you.
TheXYGhost : Retract that demand or I'll leave you.
Tuesday, December 16, 2025
TheXYGhost IV 351
The problem is not that men pick the wrong women, it is that women become the wrong women.
TheXYGhost
TheXYGhost
TheXYGhost III 351
She is more focused on how you feel about her and not how she feels about you.
TheXYGhost
TheXYGhost
TheXYGhost II 351
She feels that if you love her, she expects you to do as she orders. But she wants a man that’s a leader.
TheXYGhost
TheXYGhost
Women Love Abusive Men
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.
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.
TheXYGhost 054
5 kids, 21 DNA tests, 10 years and you still can't find all your kid's fathers. You blame men for this, right?
TheXYGhost
TheXYGhost
Monday, December 15, 2025
TheXYGhost III 350
She does not want to love a man. She wants a a man to love her. Isn’t that the the textbook definition of narcissism?
TheXYGhost
TheXYGhost
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