If You Love Me, You’ll Stay: 8 Toxic Habits That Women Use Against Men

He didn’t knock right away. Just sat in his car outside for an hour. I watched from the window – engine running, hand on the steering wheel like he was still deciding if his pain was valid enough to speak aloud.

When he finally walked in, I could feel it. The weight. The shame. The silence.

He fixed his gaze on me, his eyes a storm of emotions, and said, “She bit me – her teeth sunk into my skin. 

Then she grabbed a knife, the blade glinting under the dim light. She threatened, saying if I dared to leave, I would never lay eyes on my child again… but she’s expecting, carrying our future, so I must keep my mouth shut.”

And that was the moment I knew that my friend:

• Wasn’t confused.
• Wasn’t unsure.
• He was falling apart!

But because he’s a man, he thought he had to break quietly.

He had been conditioned – like countless men – to equate true manhood with relentless endurance. To believe that mere survival equaled triumph. He convinced himself that staying put was a testament to his strength. He deluded himself into thinking that silence signified love. But in reality, what he was truly doing was vanishing into oblivion.

And the world around him? The world tells men like him to keep disappearing. Especially when a woman is pregnant. Because a pregnant woman gets all the grace – even when she’s the one swinging.

His therapist said what no one else had the guts to say:
“If she weren’t pregnant, I’d tell you to run like hell!”

But she is.
So the advice was:endure. Or perhaps the therapist meant keep on suffering until you fully break down?

This isn’t rare. This is real. Abuse doesn’t always wear a male face.

Let me show you what it looks like when it wears perfume, carries a sonogram in one hand, and a blade in the other.

Let me tell you about the eight toxic habits that are destroying men like him, every damn day.

1. Control Disguised as “Love”

She dictates the names of doctors he should visit and plans his meals, down to the last calorie. She outlines every detail of their child’s upbringing, from bedtime routines to educational paths, leaving no room for his input. 

Conversations at home are on her schedule, a rigid timetable dictating when he can voice his thoughts. 

His old friends rarely see him now, as she’s subtly steered him away from his social circle, claiming it’s for the best. 

Even his opinions have morphed into echoes of hers, as if his own thoughts never existed.

2. Emotional Blackmail

“If you dare leave me, you’ll never lay eyes on the baby again.” This isn’t a fleeting worry. This is an outright threat. 

She wields his child like a loaded weapon, cloaking her menace in a facade of maternal instinct.

It’s not about the child’s well-being – it’s about control. She knows his deepest fear is losing his bond with his child, so she dangles that fear over his head, ensuring he stays, not out of love, but out of terror.

But it doesn’t stop there. Emotional blackmail manifests in many forms. Sometimes, it’s a veiled warning: “If you walk away, don’t expect things to end peacefully.” 

Other times, it’s the promise of endless suffering: “You’ll regret this. I’ll make sure of it.” The words alone are enough to make him pause, to reconsider, to wonder if leaving is even an option.

3. Gaslighting

She tells him he’s crazy. That he’s imagining things. That he’s the abuser. Meanwhile, he’s hiding phone footage and screenshots just in case someone one day believes him. 

This isn’t paranoia – it’s protection. 

Every argument twists into a maze of self-doubt, where his memories are questioned, his emotions invalidated, and his reality rewritten before his eyes. “That never happened.” “You’re overreacting.” “You always twist things to make me look bad.” 

She chips away at his confidence until he no longer trusts his own perception of events. Slowly, he becomes a shell of himself, lost in a version of reality where she is always right, and he is always wrong.

4. Plays the Victim

She’s pregnant, and the public perceives it as a sign of purity and grace. Yet, beneath this glowing façade, the bruises she inflicted on him remain. 

Her violence was not born with the pregnancy; it existed long before the baby came into the picture. 

She twists every conversation into a reminder of her “suffering,” diverting attention away from the harm she’s causing and ensuring that everyone else feels sorry for her, rather than seeing the truth of her abusive actions.

Playing the victim is also one of the common traits of the miserable people.

The pregnancy merely provided her with a convenient veil, masking the turmoil and aggression that lay hidden beneath her seemingly serene exterior.

5. Ultimatums

He pleaded for partners’ counseling, hoping things would change. She let out a harsh, mocking laugh right in his face, as he told me. 

Her words cut deep like that knife in her hands would have pierced his heart if she did attack him: “I’m fine – you’re the one with problems!” 

There was no room for compromise, no room for growth, just a rigid set of rules laid down for him to follow. 

She held the reins of the relationship firmly, and if he dared question her, the threat of emotional abandonment was always hanging over his head. 

The underlying message was brutal and clear: I refuse to acknowledge my own issues, so I’ll watch you struggle and drown in your despair alone. Period.

6. Financial Control

He pays the rent. The weight of the never ending bills. Fills the cart with groceries. 

Yet, she grips the reins of their finances with an iron fist. Dictates what’s hers, what’s off-limits. Lays down the law in the very house he constructed with his own hands.

His hard work becomes a tool for her dominance, not a symbol of shared effort. She might use money to create barriers – telling him that he’s not allowed to buy what he wants, even when the funds are available. 

In this power struggle, it’s not about partnership; it’s about control, making sure that even his financial autonomy is kept in check, ensuring he never feels free from her grip.

Provider? Yes. Prisoner? Hell, yes! Uncuff him!

7. Isolation

One by one, she made sure he disconnected from every person who could remind him who he really is, or rather, was. 

Slowly but surely, she drove wedges between him and his friends, his family, anyone who might offer him a glimpse of clarity, an escape from the fog she had woven around him. 

She knew that the more isolated he became, the more power she could wield over him, and she worked relentlessly to make sure he had nowhere to turn.

Now, he’s a stranger to his own reflection. His laughter is lost, his hobbies abandoned, his once vibrant connections severed. The isolation is suffocating, and even in a crowded room, he feels completely alone. 

Abuse doesn’t always show up in bruises – sometimes it shows up in silence. It’s the empty void of an unreturned call, the long days without a friend’s comforting voice, the absence of support when he needs it most. 

And in that silence, the weight of manipulation grows heavier, until the person he once was seems like a distant memory, too far gone to recover.

Related article: I Was a Woman Who Manipulated Man – And I Had to Face It

8. Society’s Double Standard

He’s scared to tell the truth, because no one believes men when women are the abusers. They’ll say, “She’s hormonal. She’s overwhelmed. She is just having a bad day…” The list goes on.

Society is quick to label men as perpetrators and women as victims, leaving him alone in a storm of confusion and shame. 

The words “domestic violence” don’t seem to apply to him – he is expected to endure, to suffer in silence, to accept the blame without being seen.

Meanwhile, he’s scared for his life – but not allowed to call it what it is: domestic violence.

And even after all of this, he still says to me: “Maybe she’ll change.”

Not because he believes it. But because the alternative is too heartbreaking to hold.

He remembers the man he wanted to be: the one who stayed. The husband. The father. The rock.The provider. The guardian.

The Hardest Truth: Leaving Doesn’t Make You Weak

Here’s the truth no one tells men like him – Staying with someone who’s destroying you isn’t love. It’s self-harm in slow motion.

She hit him long before she was pregnant. She threatens. She lies. She knows how to manipulate the system, and she knows the world will likely take her word over his. 

That’s not passion. That’s pathology.

And yet, when I look at him, I still see a man trying to protect something – her, the baby, his image, his identity as a “good man and a father.” It is a real trauma bond.

But protection without boundaries isn’t noble.

It’s deadly!

A Final Note for You

If this article felt like a mirror – if it touched something raw and familiar, know this: you’re not weak for recognizing it. You’re brave for finally facing it.

You were never meant to carry someone else’s rage.

You were never supposed to trade your peace just to protect a child from their chaos.

And love? Real love never demands your silence, your sacrifice, or your sanity.

But toxic abuse does. And the hardest part? It doesn’t always come with bruises or broken bones. Sometimes, it sounds like gaslighting, guilt trips, silent treatments, threats disguised as “concern,” or even praise followed by punishment. 

It makes you doubt your own memories. It rewrites your sense of reality. And over time, it breaks something sacred inside you – your trust in yourself.

That’s what Toxic Abuse Recovery is really about.

Not just surviving the storm, but learning how to rebuild in the aftermath.

And that’s where the MyTAR App comes in.

TAR stands for Toxic Abuse Recovery – and it’s a healing method designed for people who’ve been hurt in invisible ways. 

It’s for the ones who were told to “tough it out,” to “just move on,” or to “stop being so emotional,” while carrying decades of pain that was never named, let alone healed.

Inside the MyTAR App, you’ll find TAR Quest – a 90-day, story-based journey that helps you turn your pain into power. It’s designed to take just 8 minutes a day, because healing shouldn’t be another heavy burden.

What makes it different?

It’s not therapy-speak. It’s not lectures. It’s not about fixing you – because you’re not broken.

It’s healing through story, strategy and fun. Through daily quests and guidance from our Heroes who’ve walked the path before you.

It’s a gentle structure that helps you build the courage to feel, speak, and set boundaries – without guilt. To help you:

• Reclaim your story
• Set boundaries and say no without guilt
• Break free from emotional manipulation
• Heal with clarity, purpose, and self-respect

Because survival isn’t the end goal. Peace is. 

And now – for maybe the first time – you don’t have to choose between healing and joy. You get both.

Join the waitlist for MyTAR.

It’s your story now. Let’s make the next chapter about freedom.