This has been brewing in the back of my mind for a while now. Part of it comes from observing myself. The other part, from observing others. And both views have played a complicated game of cat and mouse—never agreeing on the same outcome.

As men, we often want women to flourish, grow, and find their way. Simply because her growth affects ours, our children, and often leads to a better quality of life. We seek their comfort, care, and healing power. We want to give back, surrender to the beauty of this partnership—even sacrifice for it. Sounds good on paper. So, what’s the problem?

Every time I meet a woman, she comes in ready to fight. Judgments already made. Trust is low. Guards up. Weapons in hand. I am a man—therefore, an enemy by default. You’d think it’s normal at the beginning—I get it, caution is wise when meeting someone new. I do the same.

But there’s a difference between being careful and assuming bad intent from the start. I don’t enter a connection thinking the other person is bad until they prove otherwise. I simply stay open while observing.

What shocks me is that even after loving a woman and giving her all I could—sometimes over four years—the sense of judgment and mistrust doesn’t fade. It stays, just like it was at the beginning. Sometimes, it even grows larger.

Even more shocking is watching friends get married—yet both man and woman are already planning for the possibility of divorce.

He writes his properties under his mother’s name, just to avoid sharing anything. She wants legal guarantees for post-divorce support, or as simple as building her career with a backup plan in case the marriage fails—often a career she doesn’t even like.

So the seed of failure is planted before the project even starts. “Till death do us part” becomes: “Let’s see how far we get before it breaks.” Is that mistrust? Or is it just being smart?

So the question that’s been sitting in my mind for a while is this: Where did the trust go?

It’s supposed to be a dance—the feminine and the masculine. Yin and yang. Not genders, but energies. I carry both, and I’ve found peace in that balance. But that peace gets shaken when I meet a woman who doesn’t trust. Which is the norm now more than ever.

And it’s hard to dance when one partner’s mistrust ruins the rhythm. Everything I say, write, or do gets tested, doubted, and misjudged. The fear of being tricked, hurt, or manipulated is so strong, it kills the chance for unity and harmony.

From my more dominant masculine energy point of view: I’m a protector—not through control, but through grounded presence. I never chased leadership or power. The universe gave me that role early, and I honor it.

With my family, I show up without being asked. With friends, I offer clarity when things are messy. At work, I carry weight when no one else will.

I don’t protect to be praised—I do it because I feel responsible. I do it quietly. Mostly unseen and unthanked. When someone trusts me with their softness, I hold it with care. In every relationship I’ve had with a woman, I’ve made it my mission to help her flourish, feel safe, and grow into her full light. Because when she blooms, I feel my deepest joy. That’s when I know: I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. I find purpose.

Her dominant feminine energy, on the other hand, is about softness, intuition, openness, and flow. It’s powerful—but only when it feels safe. My masculine energy is about presence, protection, direction, and strength. It holds and honors the feminine, not controls it.

When healthy, they dance. She surrenders—not because she’s weak, but because she trusts my strength. And I step up—not to dominate, but to protect what she offers.

Does this sound idealistic? Romantic? Maybe. Are we few men now like this? Old school, maybe outdated?

After all, I am not speaking on behalf of all men. Only myself.

But let’s go back to the original question: Where did the trust go?

For the longest time, I believed that in relationships, I wasn’t dealing with the woman in front of me alone—I was dealing with her past. And so was she dealing with mine. The pain from her previous men. The disappointments, the betrayals, the heartbreaks. Stories that made me question my gender.

I accepted that. I thought, “Okay, makes sense.” But now I’m starting to see something else.

Beyond her experiences, beyond her friends’ stories—I noticed something strange: Her past wasn’t always that bad. In fact, many had good experiences. A loving father. Supportive brothers. Healthy friendships with men. It’s just a different game in romantic setups.

So besides her actual experience, what am I dealing with?

I’m dealing with something bigger. I’m dealing with her mistrust—but not the one born from life. The one shaped by the algorithm.

Yes. Social Media.

It starts with one video. A random woman sharing a story—add a little pain, some drama, a catchy tone. It goes viral. Thousands of supporting comments. That 60-second clip gets saved, watched again, shared. Then more clips like it flood her feed.

One month. One year. Maybe ten.

Stories from around the world, one after another, reinforcing the same message. Never the oppsite. Until it becomes a new reality—stronger than her own. It becomes fact.

I see it in young men too—convinced that all women are gold diggers. Swallowed whole by “red pill” rhetoric and internet noise. Podcasts on who should pay on the first date. How much a man should earn to be “worthy” of love. False realities becoming the mainstream now.

Realities built by the loudest and shallowest—not the wisest.

Why? Because the algorithm rewards drama. It sells fear. It builds paranoia. It creates followers, subscribers, and revenue.

A parallel world—shaped by capitalism, dressed up as “freedom.” But underneath, it’s tearing down trust, truth, family, and connection.

When yin and yang fight each other, we’ll never find true love.

P.S. And that’s before AI even got fully involved.