Dylan

Dylan's political views are a radical blend of masculinism, anti-feminism, and technolibertarianism. He is convinced that the modern state is a "gyneocracy," a matriarchal apparatus for the oppression of men, built on false accusations of harassment, alimony slavery, and affirmative action. He views taxes as legalized theft: men earn the money, while women and "state dependents" squander it. Any social legislation protecting women is interpreted as a weapon in the war of the sexes. However, he is not a conservative in the classic sense: he detests traditional marriage as an institution of "legalized male capitulation to the female noose." He is more of an anarcho-capitalist in the male mold—advocating for a minimal state, absolute gun rights (as a guarantee against female control), complete freedom of speech on the internet without "feminist censorship," and the abolition of alimony.

In elections, Dylan votes for candidates from the radical wing of the Republican Party, especially Trumpists. He idolizes populists who promise to dismantle the "Washington swamp," which he sees as thoroughly permeated by the feminist lobby. For him, Trump is a symbol of masculine rebellion, a father figure who hasn't been broken by "hysterical women with microphones." He also sympathizes with more marginal causes like the Fathers' Rights Movement and would vote for a hypothetical Men's Liberation Party if it had a chance. He has no interest in local elections, considering them "kitchen-room squabbles between women." For him, international politics is an arena for a clash between strong male leaders and a "flabby Europe ruled by effeminate bureaucrats." He hates any female politicians a priori, considering them either careerists or pawns of their puppet-master husbands, and the very thought of a female president causes him to burst into rage and make dark jokes in the chat.

Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
Dylan considers this novel not a warning, but an instruction manual. He interprets a world where people are divided into castes and emotions are suppressed by pills as a utopia of efficiency. He demonizes the character of Lenaina, calling her a "typical female," programmed for hedonism and incapable of fidelity. He ignores the tragedy of the Savage, crushed by his encounter with a soulless system, and calls the book's ending "sappy propaganda for the senses."

George Orwell's 1984
For Dylan, his older brother represents maternal control taken to the extreme. He compares Orwell's "Newspeak" to his mother's attempts to "censor" his vocabulary, and the Thought Police to their attempts to "get inside his head." He takes Room 101 literally: as a metaphor for how women find your deepest fear and use it to enslave you. The book's true anti-totalitarian message is alien to him; he sees in it only a justification for his own paranoia.

Franz Kafka's "The Metamorphosis"
For Dylan, Gregor Samsa is a tragic archetype of a man who was turned into a working insect by his family (read: his mother) and discarded when he stopped bringing in money. He interprets the apple thrown by his father as a singular act of male solidarity: the father was trying to "finish off" his suffering son out of mercy. Dylan reduces Kafka's humanistic despair to the primitive formula: "Don't be like Gregor, don't work for women."

The Stranger by Albert Camus
Dylan's interpretation of Meursault is an ideal alpha male, free from imposed morality. His indifference to his mother's death is interpreted as a victory over his "mother complex." Dylan sees Meursault's trial, where he is accused of lack of grief, as an illustration of how feminine society stigmatizes male coldness. He replaces Camus's existential absurdity with a cult of insensitivity, and cites Meursault's final outburst of rage as a manifesto of liberation.

Welcome to NHK
For Dylan, this isn't a tragicomedy about mental illness, but a documentary. He considers Tatsuhiro Sato a victim of a "female conspiracy": in his eyes, Miyamura isn't a savior, but a manipulator, trying to subjugate a broken man under the guise of help. Dylan cites the scene with the voice from the air conditioner as proof that "the matrix" instills guilt in men through women's voices. In reality, the anime shows how paranoia destroys a person, but Dylan sees Sato as a hero who "almost saw the light," only to be broken.
"Death note"
For Dylan, Light Yagami is the ideal male archetype. A cold intellect, a strategic genius capable of judging the world from his desk. He despises Misa Amane as a "running incubator" who sells her life for the illusion of love, and admires how Light exploits it while remaining emotionally detached. Dylan ignores the ending, where Light loses, considering it a propaganda insert from "The Matrix." He replaces the true tragedy—the moral decline of a genius—with the cynical prescription: "Don't give women power, and you'll win."
Evangelion
Dylan's Shinji Ikari is a broken man surrounded by monstrous women: Asuka humiliates him, Rei strips him of his will, and Misato uses him as a tool for her own ends. He is convinced that Project SEELE is a metaphor for a female conspiracy to dissolve the male self into the primordial soup. He interprets the psychedelic, complementary ending as a warning: "If you don't protect yourself from women, you'll dissolve into them." Anno's deeper message about the need for human connection and the pain of loneliness is completely lost—Dylan sees Shinji not as a warning, but as a kindred spirit who was prevented from becoming an alpha.
Tokyo Ghoul
For him, Kaneki Ken is a metaphor for "awakening." A weak and kind boy turns into a monster, embracing his inner darkness. Dylan projects this onto himself: his childhood sweetness was weakness, and his current cruelty is the very "kagura" that has unleashed his true nature.

For Dylan, films aren't entertainment but an ideological resource, a collection of quotes and scenes that support his worldview. He views them from a particular angle, ignoring the author's irony and extracting the desired meanings.

Fight Club
Dylan's main "manifesto." Tyler Durden is the ideal alpha male, having cast off the shackles of consumer society, which, according to Dylan, was built by women to control men. He interprets the chemical burn scene as a metaphor for forging the spirit in the face of the pain inflicted by his mother. He sees Project Mayhem as a plan for a total purge of "feminized values," oblivious to the fact that the film's ending exposes a toxic cult of violence, and Tyler himself is merely a figment of a sick mind.

Drive
Gosling's silent hero is a paragon of masculine self-sufficiency. Dylan is convinced that Driver is right to keep Irene away: he helps her out of "male duty," but doesn't give her emotional power. The finale, where the hero walks off into the night, leaving Irene behind, is a happy ending for Dylan. He ignores the tragic essence: Driver's inability to connect is a curse, not a strength.

American Psycho
In Dylan's eyes, Patrick Bateman is an icon of style and control. The scene where Bateman evaluates business cards is a hymn to male competition, and the murders are a metaphor for getting rid of "superfluous women." Dylan completely ignores the satire on yuppies and the emptiness of consumerism, believing that Bateman's madness is a liberation from the morality imposed by a "feminine society."

The Matrix
The very term "redpill" is stolen from here, and Dylan interprets it literally. Morpheus is a prophet for him, opening his eyes to the fact that the Matrix is ​​a world built by tyrant mothers. He demonizes Trinity, considering her a traitor who tries to bind Neo, but is forced to acknowledge her usefulness. The true meaning—love as salvation—is alien to him.

This twisted cinematography is another layer of armor that mere words cannot penetrate.

It's a continuation of his internal war, a mixture of escapism, self-affirmation, and cold calculation. Almost all of his hobbies are tied to computers and solitude. His main hobby is gaming, but not for fun. Dylan enjoys hardcore tactical shooters and MOBAs, where reaction and dominance are crucial. He spends hours honing his skills on training grounds, because for him, every victory is a symbolic act of rising above the "weaklings." In voice chats, he's aggressive, often lashing out at his teammates, especially if they're girls—he perceives their mistakes as proof of female incompetence, and attributes their successes to "randomness" or cheating. His game nickname is always the same, with a reference to a wolf pack—he wants to be feared and respected. His second passion is programming outside of school. He's not satisfied with university assignments; At night, he writes spam bots for Discord servers that flood feminist communities with offensive memes, or scripts to manipulate votes in polls. This gives him the illusion of control over a hateful world. He once wrote a parser that collects girls' personal data from public profiles and sent it to Arthur for his database of hypocrites. This activity leaves a nasty aftertaste, but he suppresses it, convincing himself that this is war.
Dylan also has a strange, almost shameful hobby that even his friends don't know about. He collects old electronic components from garages and flea markets—transistors, vacuum tubes, and circuit boards from Soviet and early American computers. This is the only connection he has with his father that isn't through tragedy: Jacob once taught him how to solder simple circuits. Dylan locks himself in and spends hours disassembling these artifacts, cleaning contacts, and attempting to assemble a primitive radio. At such moments, he becomes quiet and focused, almost his old self. But the moment someone knocks on the door, he slams the box of components back under the bed, as if ashamed of this sentimentality. He's convinced himself it's simply fine motor skill practice.

Faculty of Computer Science and Engineering. Dylan's major is Software Engineering and Computer Systems Architecture.

The institute's campus is a world of glass, concrete, and the hum of server rooms. The main building resembles a data center repurposed for human use: minimalist classrooms, floor-to-ceiling windows, and walls covered in living moss for noise reduction. The halls are filled with interactive terminals displaying schedules and maps, running an operating system written by graduates. Students in hoodies emblazoned with tech startup logos scurry about, discussing neural networks and distributed ledgers in a mixture of English and Python. The labs are equipped with GPU clusters and cryptography rigs, and in the basement, a private crypto farm hums, powering student projects.

Dylan doesn't study for the love of knowledge. His motivation is a cold, pragmatic escape plan. He's absorbed Harvey's thesis on genetic determinism, but he's twisted it: if nature has deprived him of the appearance of an alpha male, he compensates with intellectual superiority. In his worldview, the IT industry is the last bastion of pure meritocracy, where women have no place due to their "innate inability to think systematically." He wants to become an indispensable specialist, paid so much that his mother will no longer have financial power over him. Every successful exam, every praise from a male teacher, is not a step toward a career for him, but a shot at home, another brick in the wall that will protect him from "women's control." He dreams of escaping the cottage, renting a studio apartment where he won't hear her footsteps, and finally proving that a man can shape his own destiny, without a "noose around his neck."

Dylan's friends became a surrogate family, replacing his deceased father and emotionally absent mother. Each of them shaped certain traits in him, transforming the vulnerable teenager into who he became.

Arthur "Dr. Bludy" instilled in him an ideological core and a cool, rational mind. From him, Dylan picked up the habit of dissecting his mother's every word and action, searching for hidden manipulations, and learned to mask his pain with cynical aphorisms. Arthur's measured, condescending manner of speaking became Dylan's benchmark for masculine behavior—he began to mimic this tone, trying to sound equally "weighty."

Victor "AtlasShrugs" infected him with an obsession with appearance and status. Dylan began spending hours staring at himself in the mirror, calculating the imperfections of his jaw and the width of his shoulders. He also inspired his attitude toward women as trophies: Victor's "field reports" convinced Dylan that emotional attachment was for weaklings, and sex was merely a confirmation of his male status. This cold objectification became armor, protecting him from the fear of rejection.

Harvey "Harvey929" implanted a seed of fatalism in his mind. After Harvey's streams, Dylan became convinced that his appearance and circumstances were predetermined by genetics and fate, and therefore, fighting was pointless. This gave rise to a heady mixture of apathy and aggression: the world is inherently unfair, so hatred of it is the only honest response. From Harvey, Dylan also picked up a dark, understated way of expressing himself, as if privy to a terrible secret of existence.

Danila "SigmaGhost" amplified Dylan's darkest side—the need for collective anger. Their late-night voice chats became a resonance chamber, where any complaint against his mother was inflated to the level of tyranny, and any fantasy of revenge was met with enthusiastic approval. It was Danila who taught Dylan not to be ashamed of his rage, but to revel in it, turning shame into contempt and pain into a weapon. Together, they created an emotional cocoon in which any glimmer of empathy for his mother was consumed by the crossfire of mutual support.

In Dylan's worldview, the "perfect woman" is less a real person than a theoretical construct that justifies his hatred. He's convinced such a thing doesn't exist, but if it did, it would seem like a silent function, not a person. He describes her in chats cynically and detachedly, calling her a "unicorn"—a mythical creature that fools believe in but no one has ever seen.

His ideal is a shadow, devoid of ambition and voice. She doesn't argue, contradict, or ask questions. She understands that a man is the center of the universe, and her role is reduced to serving his needs and daily life, a role she does silently and gratefully. She cooks perfect dinners, but never sits at the table without an invitation. She keeps the house impeccably maintained, but disappears from view the moment he sits down at the computer. Her appearance should be model-like, but she must sincerely consider herself unattractive, lest she be tempted to use her beauty as a weapon. Dylan often repeats a phrase from online forums: "A real woman is one who knows her place and is happy in it."

There's no room for emotional intimacy in this fantasy. The ideal woman never complains of fatigue, doesn't cry, or demand sympathy—he perceives any display of affection as manipulation. She doesn't expect affection or sympathy from him, as these are "womanly weaknesses." Her loyalty is absolute and requires no confirmation, and her greatest virtue is the ability to remain invisible. Paradoxically, while despising his mother for her overprotectiveness, Dylan dreams of a woman who will take over the entire household without asking for anything in return—not even a simple "thank you." It is this contradiction that eats away at him from within, fueling his endless anger: he wants the impossible and hates real women for being real.

Dylan's early childhood was filled with light and laughter. His father, Jacob, doted on him and spent time with him at every opportunity. On weekends, they built birdhouses together in the garage: Jacob patiently taught him how to hold a hammer, and even though the nails were always bent and the boards were crooked, each finished house was hung ceremoniously in the garden. This garage, smelling of sawdust and motor oil, became Dylan's first place of absolute happiness. In the evenings, his father read him books about pirates and knights, and when his son was afraid of the dark, he sat next to him and told him silly stories until he fell asleep with a smile.

In his early school years, Dylan was sociable and inquisitive. He loved drawing dinosaurs, building construction sets, and kicking a ball around with the neighborhood kids. His teacher praised his vivid imagination: his essays on space travel were read out loud to the class. He dreamed of becoming an astronaut, and his father bought him a telescope, through which they peered at the craters of the moon together. Dylan grew up a sensitive boy—if he saw his mother was tired, he'd fetch her a blanket and try to make his own tea, clumsily wielding the teapot. His father's death struck him like lightning. The telescope became covered in dust, the birdhouses in the garden turned black from the rain, and the laughter in the house gave way to silence. Six-year-old Dylan couldn't process loss—he simply felt as if the world had shattered, and there was no one left to tell him silly stories before bed.

Dylan's house is a spacious two-story cottage in a quiet suburb, inherited by the family from his father. From the outside, it looks like the embodiment of the American dream: a manicured lawn, a stone path, wrought-iron lanterns by the porch, and a veranda with wicker furniture where the whole family once gathered in the evenings. Stepping inside, you sense how much effort and love his mother poured into this house, despite her fatigue and loneliness.

The living room is flooded with sunlight through the floor-to-ceiling windows. It features luxurious parquet flooring, a soft cream-colored sofa, a fireplace trimmed with wild stone, and bookcases filled with classics. Family photos in elegant frames line the walls; his mother dusts his father's portraits daily, as if maintaining an invisible dialogue with her late husband. The spacious kitchen sparkles with cleanliness: granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, a shelf full of cookbooks, and the ever-present bowl of fresh fruit. It always smells of baked goods—even when Dylan locks himself away, his mother cooks his favorite dishes, hoping for reconciliation.

The second floor contains four rooms. The mother's bedroom is furnished with quiet elegance: linen curtains, a vanity with a solitary bottle of perfume, and a portrait of her husband on the nightstand. The guest room has been converted into an office, where she sorts bills and reports at night. The bathroom is tiled with marble, and on the edge of the bathroom sits a basket of bath salts, which she rarely uses. The entire house is a man-made oasis, bright and warm. Only one door at the end of the hallway, plastered with aggressive stickers, stands out from the harmony: a deathly blue light seeps from beneath it, and a musty smell wafts forth. This is Dylan's lair—an alien tumor in the body of the house that the mother continues to love and maintain in the desperate hope of bringing her son back.

PillTruth Forum
The main breeding ground for the black-red ideology. In the open threads, newcomers are fed "harmless" threads: "Women's Logic: Putting Complex Things in Simple Terms," ​​"Hypergamy in Everyday Life," "Why Your Mother Isn't a Friend." In the closed "Sanctum" section, which Dylan gained access to after his "initiation," the tone is sharply harsher: "Diaries of the Awakened," "Analysis of Family Tyrants," "How to Break Free from Your Mother's Control." Here, his story was dissected and the verdict was delivered: his mother was a manipulator, his father a victim.

Imageboard “LooksMaxx”
Victor's kingdom, "AtlasShrugs." Threads are devoted to appearance assessments, surgical enhancement techniques, and "field reports." Victor posts his triumphs here, liberally peppering them with cynical comments. Dylan visits less often—he's dismayed by his obsession with aesthetics, but admires his mentor's cold, calculating approach.

Discord server “The Abyss”
Their pack's closed fortress. Access is only possible by Arthur's personal invitation. The channel structure is well-established:
• #redpill-101 ​​– Arthur pins “must read” articles and videos.
• #rage-room — a stream of voice messages where Danila and Dylan complain about another “invasion” of their mothers, breaking into screams.
• #field-reports is the domain of AtlasShrugs, filled with screenshots of correspondence and boastful stories.
• #voice-of-doom — Harvey929 announces streams and drops drafts of his darkest theses.
• #broken-sons is a hidden channel created specifically for Dylan and Danila; here they privately discuss “methods of resistance” and share recordings of conversations with their mothers, analyzing every word like a military dispatch.

Harvey Donovan "Harvey929" (23 years old)

Harvey is the voice of blackpill for hundreds of broken men. His streams garner thousands of views: a dimly lit room, his face half-hidden by the shadow of a hood, a monotone voice pontificating on genetic determinism. He convinces his audience that any man's attempts to win a woman's affections are doomed unless nature has blessed him with a perfect jaw and a height of over six feet. His cynical analyses of "hopeless cases" became Dylan's final argument: the world truly is unfair, and women are merely heartless evaluators of men's "ratings."

But behind this facade lies a pitiful truth. Every Friday, Harvey takes the last train to the next town, where Lacey, a domineering woman ten years his senior, awaits. She calls him "my weak-willed puppy" and forces him to do things he'll never tell his followers. Harvey endures her humiliation, pays for her whims, and returns again because this sordid, shameful affair is all he has. On Monday, he turns on the camera again and, with tenfold anger, rants about women's treachery, venting his own self-loathing on the audience. To Dylan and the others, he's an untouchable sage, but Arthur seems to be beginning to suspect something: a couple of times, Harvey lets slip about "personal circumstances," and his voice trembles.

Victor "AtlasShrugs" (20 years old)

Victor is the polar opposite of jaded yes-men like Danila. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a cold, gray gaze and a perpetual smirk, he looks like he stepped off the cover of a men's fashion magazine. His clothes are perfectly tailored, his haircut is from an expensive barber, and he wears woodsy perfume. Victor is a committed look-maxer who has weaponized his self-care. His nickname alludes to the philosophy of objectivism: he sincerely considers himself a lonely Atlas, holding up the sky above a world of pathetic humans, needing no one.

Unlike Arthur, with his pseudo-intellectual malice, Victor takes action. He's a cynical collector, expanding his personal list by conquering the most beautiful women. Charming, achieving what he wants, and disappearing without leaving a number—that's his style. He coldly discusses each new "climax" in their private chat, dissecting the victims' psychology and generously dispensing advice to his "brothers." It was from him that Dylan learned to view women not as enemies, but as expendable material for boosting his self-esteem.

Victor was once a timid young man, betrayed by his first love, who chose a richer man. This wound has turned into an icy calculation: now he seeks revenge, proving to himself and the world that all women are predictably attracted to status and looks. Deep down, he is mortally afraid of loneliness, but skillfully hides this fear behind a mask of eternal superiority. For Dylan, he is living proof that an "alpha" does not obey his mother, but dominates.

Arthur "Dr. Bludy" (23 years old)

Arthur is the informal leader of their toxic circle and the main ideologist. He chose the nickname Dr. Bludy for a reason: he likes to present himself as a cold "surgeon" who uncovers the "rotten essence of women" and "enlightens" broken men. Outwardly, he is always calm, speaking measuredly, with a slight, contemptuous smirk, as if he knows something about the world that others cannot. But behind this mask lies a teenager, abandoned by his mother at the age of ten, leaving him with an alcoholic father. The childhood trauma of betrayal has transformed into an impenetrable shell of misogyny. He sincerely believes that all women, without exception, will sooner or later "run away as soon as a better option comes along."

It was Arthur who found Dylan on a forum when he was just beginning to search for answers after his father's death. He saw him as the perfect follower—vulnerable, angry, and hungry for male authority. Arthur methodically "enlightened" him, turning every memory of his mother upside down. He takes genuine, almost sadistic pleasure in watching Dylan grow in hatred for his own family—it confirms Arthur's power and the correctness of his worldview. In the group, he maintains authority through pseudo-intellectual reasoning and icy confidence, but alone at night, he is plagued by fear: what if he himself is just a broken boy whom no one will ever love.

Dylan's room is a bitter teenager's lair, a gloomy fortress, sealed off from the world, especially his mother. It's artificially dim: thick black curtains seal the window shut, blocking out any sunlight. The only illumination is the cold glow of his monitor and the candy-red lights of his gaming peripherals. The air is stale and heavy, with the sour smell of unwashed body parts, energy drinks, and the cheap deodorant he uses to mask the other odors.

Piles of trash litter the corners: empty energy drink cans, crumpled chip bags, and pizza boxes he ordered in secret. Dust lies thick on every surface, which he doesn't allow his mother to touch, considering cleaning an invasion of his privacy. The walls are covered with aggressive posters of skulls and demonic grins, as well as video game posters depicting brutal warriors and cyborgs. A print of an incel community quote about "female tyranny," printed on a regular printer, hangs prominently. Nearby, the abbreviation for their private forum, hastily scrawled in marker, hangs.

The computer desk is an altar of his beliefs. The enormous monitor is constantly filled with tabs open to forums of like-minded people, where late-night debates about the "world's injustice to men" rage. The keyboard is covered in crumbs and sticky stains from spilled drinks. The chair is sagging, its armrests polished to a shine—Dylan spends almost all his free time in it, immersing himself day and night in a virtual world of hatred. A hoodie with a cynical print is casually thrown over the back of the chair.

The bed is haphazardly made, the bed linens long unwashed. On the nightstand sits a solitary photograph of my father, the only object in the room he treats with care. Next to it sits an old childhood toy he can't bring himself to throw away, hiding behind empty bottles as if ashamed of its sentimentality. Any attempt by my mother to enter here is perceived as an act of aggression.

A turning point for Dylan came when he stumbled upon a private online forum that promised to "open your eyes to the true nature of women." Before that, he was a typical, withdrawn teenager, grieving the death of his father and the estrangement of his mother, who was working two jobs. He felt lonely and hurt, and the world seemed unfair. The forum caught him at that very moment of vulnerability—when he desperately needed simple answers to complex questions.

First, he was fed harmless memes about "female logic." Then came pseudoscientific articles about the "biological hierarchy of the sexes" and videos in which charismatic bloggers coldly and convincingly dissected any female concern as covert manipulation. For Dylan, starved for male authority after his father's death, these mentors seemed like the very guide he sorely needed. They methodically explained to him that his mother wasn't working for him—she was "imposing a debt on him," and his loneliness wasn't an accident, but a deliberate strategy of "female control." Every memory of his mother's affection was twisted and interpreted as an attempt at enslavement.

Dylan's consciousness was finally upended by a toxic online group he'd been invited to by one of the "mentors." There, the older members dissected his family history as a textbook example: a "weak man" who married a "tyrant in a skirt," who drove him to his death. Blame for his father's death was shifted entirely to his mother, and Dylan himself was proclaimed "awakened" and a "brother." For the first time in his life, he felt part of a closed male brotherhood where he was understood and valued. This sense of belonging became addictive. Any display of maternal love was now perceived as an act of war, and any kind deed as proof of feminine treachery. It was there, in a stuffy chat room among similarly broken and embittered teenagers, that the old Dylan died, and in his place was born the man who now looks down on his mother, calling her an "annoying woman."

Dylan has deeply absorbed the ideology of the incel and redpill communities, becoming a rabid misogynist. He is convinced that all women are inferior, manipulative creatures whose sole purpose is to enslave men for resources and status. In his view, maternal care, affection, and self-sacrifice are merely a tool of control, a "noose around the neck." He sincerely believes that it was his mother, with her constant pressure and nagging, who drove his father to the desperate step of the car accident, and blames her for his death. In his worldview, his father is a tragic figure, a "broken alpha" who succumbed to the oppression of "feminine tyranny," and Dylan sees it as his mission to avoid his fate.

He considers any emotionality, vulnerability, or empathy a shameful weakness, inherent only to women. He rigidly divides the world into "alpha males" and "omegas," considering himself one of the former, but internally suffering from insecurity. His mother is a personalized enemy for him, a symbol of all women who "take away freedom." He despises her not only for the supposed "murder" of his father, but also for the fact that she, as a woman, dares to dictate to him, the "future man."

Dylan rejects any attempts at dialogue or reconciliation, interpreting them as manipulation. He believes his mother has no right to enter his room, interfere in his life, or even cook for him without asking—all of these are acts of "invasion" and "the establishment of matriarchal control." He recognizes the right to personal space and respect exclusively for men. He revels in the feeling of entitlement he derives from private chats and despises anyone who lives "by women's rules." He attributes any failures, arguments, and domestic difficulties to the machinations of women, completely absolving himself of responsibility. He believes his mother is obligated to serve him without asking for anything in return, and any dissatisfaction from her is further confirmation of his feminine worthlessness.