I had been dating John for two years. The relationship wasn’t without typical ups and downs, but it was a good relationship. I considered him a friend and a lover. I could see a future with him, too. Then I became an investigator in my relationship.

When you’ve been with someone for a while, and they’ve generally been good, you tend to give them the benefit of the doubt when you find something amiss. It didn’t start with something huge. In fact, I felt shallow for bringing it up.

John had opened doors for me, pulled seats, and had me walk ahead of him since we met. Frankly, before him, I hadn’t quite paid attention to such things, but I remember feeling safe and loved by the little gestures. Then they stopped.

“I miss when you opened the car door for me,” I told him.

“That’s for cucks. I’m not doing that anymore,” said John.

The drink I was taking went flying out of my mouth when he said those words.

“Sorry, what?” I asked.

“You’ve got hands to do it too, but you females enjoy it when weak men do such things because it makes you feel powerful. Like watching your maid do basic chores for you,” said John with a straight face.

I also sensed a hint of something, as though he thought he was saying something intellectual. “He must be going through something, and I am not about to struggle with those demons,” I told myself. It was just a door anyway, and I wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it.

Then the news about Prince Harry moving to the U.S. with his wife and kids hit the news cycle. There were thousands of think pieces on the matter, and John submitted one.

“That’s what happens when you date older woman who are past their expiry date. They’ll manipulate you and turn you into a beta man,” said John.

“How is it the woman’s fault? Did you follow the whole story? He’s just trying to protect his family in the manner he sees most fit. What does the woman’s age even have to do with anything?” I asked him.

“She’s with him for his genes and stature in society, after she’s been out there,” said John.

“One would think you know these people personally!”

“I don’t need to. Women think the same way everywhere, and she’s just lucky she’s found a man who fell for her manipulation,” said John.

“But she was successful even before meeting him. Is there a story out there I haven’t seen yet that would make you say that?” I asked him, struggling to believe that was the John I knew.

He went on ranting about high-value men and how women sought them out. Females was the term he used when referring to women. Each argument was more difficult to listen to than the previous one. I knew something had changed.

Before this, when he came over to my place, or I went to his house, we’d share the chores and costs, but since his conversion, he’s sounded entitled to my labour. It was almost as though I was auditioning for his approval with each task.

Then, one day, I decided to watch YouTube on the TV. I used a different account on the telly from the one on my phone. The puzzle was solved. The algorithm suggested red-pill content. It was one guru on masculinity to another influencer.

That was all John had been watching. I listened to some of the videos and quickly picked up on his shift in language and some of his thoughts. It felt like he had joined a cult, and I needed to stage an intervention.

Days later, he came home from work looking so furious. He’d fought with one of the female bosses.

“Females are so emotional. We know what she did to get that position. The game is rigged against men,” said John.

After he calmed down, I felt it was time for a long-overdue conversation.

“Do you think the content you’re consuming from the manosphere is affecting you?” I asked.

“Typical bitches. Always defending each other,” he said.

“John! I do not appreciate that type of language,” I yelled.

“Well, the truth hurts,” he said.

After I got past the slur, I pointed out that he had previously enjoyed good relations with that particular boss. He was adamant that she was the problem and the world was disorderly because men had given women too much freedom.

It became unbearable to listen to him talk about women and men, and even worse was dating a man who treated you like he was on a jihad to right a wrong. I broke up with him shortly after. He threatened that I would die alone with cats.

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