The Spotless Mind of the Abusive Male: Ignorance, Arrogance, Indifference
Male abusers are blissfully unaware of the pain they inflict on others.
No man wants to admit to being an abuser.
Most of us have a world view where we are a great person, pure of intention, even if we make occasional mistakes.
As long as our intentions are good, we feel our good intentions wash away responsibility for our actions.
I Am An Abuser
I remember the first talk with my ex-wife after realizing my failings. I was ready to help her heal, ready to be the one who made things right. She said, “Your abuser can’t be the one to heal you.“
The word slammed into me, heavy and unyielding.
Abuser.
The old reflex kicked in, the mind grinding along its worn track: Not this abuser crap again. The thought flickered and stalled; But I failed to energize it with righteous certainty like during our marriage. The thought faded away.
And then, something else rose up—a pang, sharp, piercing my heart. Regret, raw and steady, stirred in my chest, a reminder of everything I'd tried to unlearn.
I could see the Truth beneath it now, my wisdom eyes unclouded:
Only her experience matters.
It hit me hard, undeniable. Face it—I had abused her. The excuses faded like smoke. There was only this truth, heavy and real, and no way to turn back from it.
Until then, I had never seen myself as an abuser. In my mind, I was clean—my actions measured, my motives good. I was not aggressive, loud, or derogatory, never struck her, never approached or crossed any lines. My family doesn’t appear in an episode of Cops. I was righteous, or so I believed, convinced I was doing the right thing, courageously so.
Since she was wrong, yet resisting my kind and giving attempts to change her, to get her to see the Bigger Truth, my viewpoint, I needed to soften her resistance, for her sake.
Time to bring the bravado, not a full salvo of male power that I’d deliver a man; she’s a woman, I pulled my emotional punches, I’m a softy. But I gave warning shots that she was treading into areas where questioning my authority was going to end badly for her: fear the wrath, comply.
I would employ the dogs of emotional war if necessary.
Steps have been taken, a silent uproar
Has unleashed the dogs of warYou can't stop what has begun
Signed, sealed, they deliver oblivion
We all have a dark side, to say the least
And dealing in death is the nature of the beastDogs of War—Pink Floyd
All this was communicated in a glance of course. The full ritual only had to run its course a few times before she was adequately conditioned to cut the resistance the moment I shot her that look. We never looked disturbed from the outside.
Astonishing how effortless emotional violence can be.
Sadly, it never bothered me, assisted by mindblindness, unaware of her pain.
As my wife, my property, I knew how to fix her, though. That’s what men do, right? Fix things.
She was misguided, missing the sense behind my choices. If only she understood, she’d see the purpose, even thank me for pushing her to grow.
I was helping her out of love.
That was the story I clung to, a story I thought was true—until it shattered.
I treated her like I treated everyone else, carrying that same hard, masculine energy into the space between us, softened only by my tender mercies.
Works well with men. With wives, not so much.
I was too blind, too caught up in my own certainty, to see any difference.
I carried on like that, year after year, arrogant and unbending, convinced my beliefs were truths. The damage piled up quietly as I dished out that careless indifference, sharp as any blade. Looking back, I see it for what it was—emotional cruelty, wielded with the ease of a Medieval torturer, too numb to even notice.
We picture abusers as monsters, cold and heartless, pure evil incarnate. And maybe that’s true for some. But most are just arrogant fools, blind to the damage, twisting cruelty until it feels like love in their minds.
I was one of those abusers.
I loved my ex-wife, deeply wanted her to be happy, free from pain. I tried to turn that feeling into something real—a good home, a good life for her and our son. But when it came down to what I actually did, I failed at every turn. A total failure, through and through.
Theory of Mind
A child learns the world isn’t just their own thoughts echoing back. Other minds exist. Around four or five, they start to see it: others have their own minds, beliefs, and reasons that don’t match what’s inside their own heads. They look at another and realize—they don’t know what I know. And with that comes empathy, the understanding that we all see life from our own strange angles.
Women see into others’ minds better than men. They feel more, see more, linger with emotions longer. They understand that caring about others' feelings matters in a way men rarely match.
Men know other views exist, but they often brush them aside, calling them mistaken, unworthy, childish.
That’s how ignorance hardens into cruelty, stepping past another’s world as if it’s nothing, as if only their own view matters.
Women, somehow, see the weight in each small feeling, each quiet thought, and treat them with the care men often forget.
Soy un perdedor
I'm a loser baby, so why don't you kill me?Loser—Beck
The Dark Side
If you’re a man, if you identify with the foolish ideas and attitudes I clung to with pride, ask yourself if you would do this to a woman, knowingly, intentionally. It’s important because I just lifted your veil of ignorance, leaving no excuses. Once you see her truth, recognize that only her point of view matters, you must decide between being a abusive asshole, or a gentleman. It’s that clearcut.
Consider this: your actions define you for others. Your mysterious inner world concerns no one but you. Your victim story, prideful views, the bullshit you imagine define your character — it’s merely a thought in your head, a fart in the wind.
Once you see the wrong you’re doing to a woman from her perspective, and you choose to continue, gleefully traveling that road, then your actions embody the evil you profess to detest.
Warrior or Executioner
A warrior faces an equal, a foe who can fight back.
An executioner cuts down the helpless.
A warrior stands noble, risking his life for his cause.
An executioner is pure evil, killing without a thought for mercy.
When a man turns his strength against a woman, thinking himself a righteous warrior for some twisted cause, he’s no hero—he’s an executioner, Darth Vader, the Devil’s right hand.
If you break your lover enough, make the pain a sure thing, you’ll reach a point where just a glance from you does the killing. You enslave her heart.
If this sounds like you, and your mind's spinning with excuses and arguments, I’ve got something to say.
Man to man, Warrior to executioner: Fuck you.
I’m not sure I can face you like a warrior. You’re hardly a threat.
You’re a small, soft excuse of a man, delicate as a petal, picking a fight with someone half your size just to satisfy that frail ego of yours. Pathetic.
All it shows is your courage to emotionally beat down someone who can’t fight back, nothing more.
Gentlemen outshine you, we call you out without a word, you’re transparent to us, we laugh in your face, turn our backs, ghost you from our world, the world of honor.
Just by not being you, a gentleman stands apart.
The Masculine Mind
A gentleman’s character runs deep, shaped by a mind and heart trained in virtue. He holds true masculinity—not the loud, swaggering act Hollywood sells, but a quiet strength, steady and unshakable. His mind is sharp, his thinking focused. He moves with purpose, a zest for life, driven by a hunger to build, to pursue his passion with relentless energy.
When two masculine minds collide, one overpowers, one submits; there’s no middle ground, only the victor and the vanquished. But when the masculine meets the feminine, it must bend, soften, engage her on her ground. Resolve conflict, not sustain it.
A man who can’t see the difference will try to force his view on a woman, pushing her to see as he sees, to live as he lives. In that insistence, he crushes something vital in her.
It’s a violence of the spirit—a quiet brutality that bruises the tender feminine heart.
The masculine mind knows the difference between itself and the feminine. A true gentleman never forces his view onto the woman he cares for. He stands firm in his own beliefs, but when he’s with her, he steps into her world, letting his own view fall away, understanding that only her world matters.
A Gentleman’s Guide
A gentleman meets a lady on her ground, never letting passion’s sharp edge penetrate—except in the bedroom. He lives by simple rules. He accepts her insecurities without judgment or urge to change them, holding her most vulnerable places with quiet respect. When anger rises in her, he meets it calmly, without defense or retaliation, knowing she poses no true threat. He takes her as she is, as he expects her to take him, flaws and all, never pressing her to be anything different.
If he fails in this, it’s his own failing, not hers. He may be with the wrong woman, but more often, the fault is in his own lack of mastery over himself. True strength lies in that control, in meeting her with an open, steady heart.
Reader’s Note
If you’re a woman, troubled by a man who refuses to enter your world, care about your concerns, treat you with kindness, decency, respect, please forward this on to them, acknowledge their kindness in reading it because it is important to you, confirm they got it, and evaluate their reaction.
A man’s reaction to this post reveals much about his character.
Resistance or Reflection
Most abusive men resist reading this post, too uncaring to grant a woman’s request, perhaps glancing, skimming quickly, dismissing it as unreal AI slop, too afraid to face their weakness, too gutless to see the cost of their selfishness.
That’s the way with these losers, so start planning your way out now.
If they read this and come at you with lectures on why it's wrong, nonsense, not worth a thought, or worse, get mad just because you had the temerity to challenge them, then there’s little hope left.
Prepare to stand tall and walk away.
Time to show strength.
A true man, one who’s got character, he’ll see himself as the hero, feel gratitude that you see it. He’ll recognize the respect you’re offering by sharing this post. You validate him, he acknowledges your world, drawing you both closer.
He’s a keeper.
Then there are the reflective ones with potential, troubled but not lost. They’ll take these words to heart, measure the logic, decide for themselves. Some will find the truth, change, step up as I did, others will soften, keep working, gaining control little by little, becoming better men.
These guys are worth sticking around for; they just might catch on.
Be patient.
With this guide, you’ll know what steps to take next.
The Weak Man’s Bind
I provided you help to set men straight, to make them see the line I’ve drawn. They’ve read it, they know the score, they know how you’ll weigh their actions. If they fob you off, mess up, lose their cool, or flare with emotion, they expose the weakness they’d rather hide, clumsily admitting their failure.
They must become gentlemen or storm off in denial, secretly consumed with self-loathing, solid and confident in their identity as hapless, helpless losers.
