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The Manifesto

A man, exhausted by vagueness, decided to be specific. He wrote a profile—not a bio, a manifesto . “Seeking a woman who is emotionally intelligent but never emotional, independent but deeply dependent on us, successful but not competitive, ambitious but flexible, healed but still in awe of me, confident but easily reassured, feminine but powerful, gentle but resilient, sensual but pure, interesting but low-maintenance, supportive, calm, inspiring, funny, fit, loyal, endlessly patient, and preferably has done the work.” He hesitated, then added: “Bonus if you don’t take this personally.” He posted it. The reaction was immediate and biblical. Women did not dislike it. They experienced it. One felt “unsafe.” Another felt “reduced to a checklist.” A third said it reminded her of her father, which was somehow his fault. Screenshots spread. Group chats lit up. Think pieces were drafted. “How dare he,” they asked, “expect a woman to be that much ?” He got blocked. The man was baffled. He had...
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I can’t help with manipulation, deception, or “detonating bombs.”

The ethical stress tests (no games, no sabotage) 1. Scarcity test (without theatrics) Have a full life. Real constraints. You don’t over-optimize availability. You don’t cancel priorities to accommodate last minute. Signal observed: Does attraction rise with autonomy—or does she punish boundaries? 2. Disagreement test Calmly disagree on something non-trivial. No hostility. No justification spiral. Signal observed: Can she tolerate male independence of thought? Or does disagreement trigger contempt, shaming, or withdrawal? 3. Cost test (small but real) Ask for reasonable reciprocity: effort, planning, compromise. Signal observed: Does she invest when it’s not immediately rewarding? Or does everything flow one way? 4. Emotional regulation test Don’t rescue emotions immediately. Stay present, not reactive. Signal observed: Can she self-regulate? Or does she escalate to regain control? 5. Future consistency test Listen over time, not words in isolation. Signal observed: Do preferences st...
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The Economics of Desire

Desire follows the laws of economics, not morality. Unfortunately, we keep regulating it with slogans. Attraction responds to scarcity , not availability. Value rises when access is uncertain. This is not cruelty. It is basic market behavior. Mr. Nice Guy floods the market. He is always available, endlessly accommodating, competitively agreeable. His price drops accordingly. Mrs. Enlightened insists this should not matter. She prefers a fair trade, transparent terms, and emotional subsidies. But desire is an unregulated market—it responds to leverage, not legislation. She wants a man who chooses her, not one who needs her. Choice implies alternatives. Alternatives imply power. Power, annoyingly, is attractive. So the man who structures his life around her signals low opportunity cost. The man who doesn’t signals options. Only one of these increases demand. The tragedy is not that women lie. They don’t. They describe the partner optimal for long-term governance , not short-term demand...
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The Paradox of Mr. Nice Guy

Mrs. Enlightened knows exactly what she wants. She wants a man who is kind but not weak , confident but not arrogant , emotionally available but not needy , ambitious but always present , masculine but safe , dominant but consensually invisible . In short, she wants a man who behaves like a monk, feels like a therapist, earns like a CEO, looks like a rebel, and desires her exclusively—while never needing her, because need is unattractive. Enter Mr. Nice Guy. Mr. Nice Guy listened. He adapted. He communicated. He respected boundaries so well he erased himself entirely. And Mrs. Enlightened says: “He’s perfect… I just don’t feel that way.” Because desire, inconveniently, did not attend the workshop. What she responds to is not what she requests . What she requests is socially legible. What she responds to is biologically embarrassing. She wants the man who could leave , not the one who promised he wouldn’t. She wants autonomy mistaken for mystery, strength mistaken for effortlessnes...
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Marriage: the silent empire of control.

Throughout history, marriage has been presented as a sacred union, a merging of souls, a natural expression of affection. But beneath that poetic veil lies an ancient social contract designed to regulate possession, inheritance, reproduction, and loyalty. What began as a means of controlling women’s bodies and lineage slowly evolved into a subtler dance — one where control became mutual, but never disappeared. What we call “love” is often the most refined mask of domination. Every marriage begins with desire — the will to possess, to be chosen, to secure one’s reflection in another. But beneath that tenderness lies a deeper instinct: the will to control. Nietzsche would call it the  will to power  — the impulse that drives every human bond, disguised as devotion. For centuries, men ruled women through law, property, and religion. Marriage was their fortress. But every structure of control breeds its mirror — and so women, denied outward authority, mastered inward power. They l...
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The Great Delusion

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Men do not understand love; they hallucinate it. They mistake instinct for destiny, attraction for meaning, affection for eternity. They take the tremor of desire — brief, electric, real — and build cathedrals upon it. They call this “love.” Women, on the other hand, have never fallen for the illusion. Their love has weight, not wings. They love through measure — through the eyes that evaluate, through the mind that remembers what is safe, what is strong, what endures. It is not cynicism. It is intelligence shaped by survival. A man wants to be loved like a god: for existing. A woman loves a man like a gardener loves her soil: for what it yields. Thus, he offers devotion; she offers discernment. He kneels — she chooses. And when she leaves, he cries that love is dead, not realizing it was never what he thought. Men are not victims of women. They are victims of their own metaphysics. They invented a heaven called “unconditional love,” then cursed women for refusing to live there w...
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O Frio

O frio lá fora sussurra contra o vidro, um xale de geada, um mundo enregelado. Mas aqui, o teu corpo é o meu abrigo, e o inverno é apenas um quadro esquecido. As chamas dançam, um balé dourado e voraz, lambendo a escuridão com suas línguas de paz. E na pele nua, o seu reflexo a tremer, o calor que sinto não vem só do lume a arder. Tua mão desliza, um brando assédio de verão, sobre a geada interior da minha solidão. O crepitar da lenha é um ritmo, um segredo, que acompanha o baile do nosso desejo quieto. E quando os suspiros se confundem com a fumaça, o inverno dobra a esquina, a alma fica farta. Pois o fogo que queira não está na lareira, mas no verão sem fim que a tua pele liberta.
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