Men Aren’t Disney Princes — They’re Like a Wet Fart from That Greasy, Snot-Nosed Sandlot Kid You Couldn’t Stand

Some days, my sadness feels so vast it overwhelms me, and I weep — not for myself, but for the lie of love we were taught as women, the story spun for us as children. Love, they said, was to be tender and profound, yet all I have known is brokenness — men unable to hold intimacy, unable to truly be in it. It tears at my bones, as it once tore at my heart, to realize that every intimate experience I have shared was with a man so fractured inside that he could never lead, could never be the partner he perhaps longed to be but could never become.

I have made love to many, and though the world might see it as a reflection of passion, of freedom, of choice, it feels more like a confession of sorrow. It is a sad thing to admit, because love, true love, was never really there. I do not think men are taught how to process their emotions — not fully, not deeply. They are told to pretend their feelings do not exist, to sever themselves from the depths of their own hearts.

And if you are a man reading this who thinks you are not broken, who believes you can love, I doubt that. I have worked with hundreds of thousands of men. I have heard their truths, seen their wounds, and felt the weight of what they carry, even when they cannot admit it to themselves.

And so, what remains? A cycle of yearning and distance, of longing and unspoken grief. In their silence, I found my own.

And in that silence, women like me — raised on TV, Disney, and stories of love and romance — have come to see that what we were promised does not exist. The love we were told to dream of, to shape our lives around, was never real. We have found instead that men often want one thing: sex. And if they cannot provide — if they cannot meet the impossible standards placed upon them — they withdraw, choosing not to participate at all.

It is a painful realization, one that carves deep. The fantasy of love, partnership, and mutual care dissolves into a harsh reality where vulnerability is absent, where connection is reduced to a fleeting moment of physicality, and where the intimacy we crave is forever out of reach. This is not the love we were told to believe in. This is not the love we were taught to hope for. This is the void we are left with instead.

Doc