Most men think they’re the exception.
They walk into the club, the OnlyFans DMs, the escort arrangement, and tell themselves this one is different. She laughs at his jokes. She texts first. She lets him take her to dinner. She calls him “baby.” Within weeks he’s paying her rent, buying the car, covering the surgery, financing the lifestyle.
Then she’s gone — still seeing other men the entire time — and he’s staring at a drained bank account wondering how the fuck it happened.
There are thousands of these stories. Same script. Different names.
A man meets a stripper, escort, sex worker, or OnlyFans girl. She gives him special attention outside the paid environment. They start “dating.” He starts writing checks. She keeps working and keeps other men in rotation. It ends when the money runs dry.
Therapists and financial counselors see this pattern constantly. It’s not rare. It’s predictable.
I’ve watched the same thing destroy students in our programs. The ones who get caught early, I send straight to Vince, Ross Jeffries, or Hypnotica — none of those men believe in paying for pussy. Sometimes a guy just needs another man to look him in the eye and say: stop being a fucking idiot.
Look when someone has low self-esteem, poor self-care, or has essentially checked out of improving their own life, paid sex often becomes the path of least resistance. It delivers physical closeness, temporary validation, and zero requirement that they become more attractive, more competent, or more emotionally available.
People keep asking why I write with a bite. Fine. Let’s get into it.
In 2018 a man I knew stuck a gun in his mouth and painted the wall with his brains after a porn star stripper drained him dry. He was 32. Full-time real estate broker in Miami. Steady job. Dead.
How do I know him? He reached out to me back then, told me he was cutting himself over some girl. Then he disappeared. A few months later Miami PD called me about his suicide and the emails he’d sent me.
I’m going to break down the exact con she ran on him so you don’t end up the same way.
I remember the call. He tells me he met her at a club. I’m like, “What kind of club, dude?” He says, “The club.” Then he starts sending me photos, going on about how fucking hot she was and how she was already playing games with him.
It always starts small. A little financial “help.” “Can you cover this for me real quick?” Twenty dollars. Fifty. A hundred. Just enough to feel helpful, not enough to raise alarms.
Then the asks get bigger and the competence disappears. Suddenly she can’t make rent. Can’t pay her phone bill. Can’t handle basic adult shit. And now he’s the one getting the panicked calls, the tears, the “you’re the only one I can count on” routine — while the money keeps leaving his account.
Suddenly she’s got a stalking, abusive ex-boyfriend she’s running from. Or some guy from online. Or some guy from the club. Always a new threat that somehow requires more money, more protection, more of his time and cash.
And the mark — yes, mainly guys like you reading this, the ones who see a pair of tits and their brain short-circuits — usually feels good about it. It strokes his ego. Makes him feel like the knight in shining armor.
But deep down you know you’re a fucking loser. Maybe you’re fat. Ugly. Got some flavor of Asperger’s. Zero social skills. Shit self-esteem. You know it. Still you tell yourself it’s fine. She’s just crazy. You can handle her. You’re smarter than her. You’re better than her.
That’s the key psychological move. The mark has to believe he’s above the con artist.
This is usually when the soft boundaries start. “I can throw you a couple hundred, but I don’t get paid till Friday.” You say it hoping she’ll back off. She doesn’t. She’s just feeling you out.
So you try to create some distance. You’re out of money. You can’t keep bleeding it.
That’s when the real pressure starts. Blackmail. Whining. Intensity. The big fight about how you don’t love her, don’t care about her, you’re abandoning her.
She blows the whole thing up, turns you into a fucking mess, then uses her cunt to pull you right back in. Fucks you after the explosion. Resets the cycle. Keeps the money flowing until you’re completely drained.
All the while she’s fucking three to seven other guys behind your back and running a full rotation of marks just like you to keep her afloat.
By the time he called me back in 2018, it had gone completely nuclear.
He was stealing money from his own clients to keep funding her lifestyle. Straight-up embezzling commissions that belonged to the realtors who worked under him. The entire organization came after him. Not one lawsuit — a coordinated legal assault from the whole firm. He got served with a massive suit that was going to destroy him.
One night it all hit at once. The girl was gone. She’d called him a rapist, a loser, a fucking geek. He had already sold the car. He was living back in his parents’ house in North Florida, broke, trying to scrape together money for a lawyer.
That night he killed himself.
They found alcohol and crack cocaine in his system. His parents said he’d never been a drug addict. He got addicted to crack through the stripper who had been running the con on him the entire time.
Now had I actually helped that guy before he blew his fucking brains out, and he didn’t disappear on me. He could still be alive. That is why I tell dumb ass men coming to me to stop playing with their dicks around women and act real fucking serious about their criteria and to pull women into their frame.
I have one student whose face looks like my dog’s asshole. He’s loaded. Thinks he’s some kind of Casanova.
He flies random women out — not even escorts, just regular girls who might as well be — so they can play house with him for a day or two. He wants the feeling of connection without the actual risk of getting close to anyone.
But he’s fat and ugly as hell. First time I saw his face in person I just stared and said, “Is that a drinker’s rash? Get that shit fixed.”
I’m not soft with these guys. If you have obvious appearance problems, fix them. If you have obvious behavioral problems, fix them. Help exists. And if you’re sitting on money, buy some goddamn face cream and stop looking like a melting candle.
But low self-esteem keeps them locked in the pity party. They choose to stay fat. Choose to stay ugly. Choose to keep the drinker’s rash from pounding alcohol every night. Refuse to set foot in a gym… while paying women who do go to the gym to fly in and fuck them.
Makes zero sense.
Get off your fat ass and go to the gym yourself.
Congruence matters. So does the wiring of low self-esteem. You can hand a man a million dollars and inside his head he’s still the same rejected 16-year-old no girl wanted. He still won’t take initiative with his body. Won’t take initiative with anything.
That’s why you see so many moneyed betas — guys with cash who still refuse to train, refuse to clean up, refuse to take care of themselves.
They’re not a 10. Not even close.
But they’ll fuck a 10 and walk away telling themselves, “I’m good… I just fucked a 10.”
The logic is simple and broken: I fucked a 10, therefore I am a 10.
Look at them. Look inside their heads. You’re staring at a fucking blob of a human.
All they really were is a guy in the right place with the right amount of cash at the right time. That’s all money buys in that moment.
So no. It’s fucking dumb. Complete guy-land logic.
These are the guys sitting at the absolute bottom of the masculinity spectrum.
Okay, for 20 years i have worked with close to 400k men now. Probably more, I lose count. All different wealth levels, all different self-esteem issues, all different education levels. From all over the world.
And this is nearly across the board with guy-land logic:
“I’ll find the stripper. I’ll be the one who saves her. I’ll throw enough money, attention, and white-knight energy at her that she’ll finally see I’m different. I’ll be the exception. I’ll get the hot girl to actually like me.”
Then the second the money runs low, or he gets too vulnerable, or she starts treating him like the mark he is, he dumps her.
Immediately the internal script flips: “I’m such a loser. I always knew a girl like that would never really want me. I was an idiot for even trying. I should’ve just stayed in my lane.”
Classic guy-land loop. Chase the unattainable with cash and fantasy. Crash. Self-destruct. Repeat.
Just don’t put a glock subcompact in your mouth and blow your fucking brains out.
Don’t end it. Get help.
He tried to get help.
He disappeared because he was terrified of self-accountability. He couldn’t face his former employer and explain the “why” behind what he did.
So no — I refuse to play sweet and soft. You’ve got problems? We’re going to fix them.
So you don’t fucking end it. Okay?
Sometimes you need tough love.
Want the full breakdown of every con in the book?
Grab The Predatory Female — it covers the exact games, scripts, and financial traps women run on men who think they’re the exception.
Want a copy? DM me on Discord.
https://discord.gg/Cjw2EwUGh
Dr. Kali DuBois, PhD
