Hey brother, He contacted me to potentially attend the Intimacy Circle I was planning on hosting. He said he had some doubts, so we decided to have a call about it. On it, he quickly said: “Sanne, I’m going to be transparent here, you trigger the shit out of me. Only giving erotic massages to women, that smells like manipulative and predatory behavior.” I laughed, because honestly I understand his point. My industry is riddled with men abusing their position for their personal gains. It’s exactly why I waited to do this work for as long as I did, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to do it with fully pure intentions yet. And it’s exactly why I have the rules in place that I do. Rules for myself, rules for the women, and rules for how we communicate about it. He continued: “I understand this is not really about you, but it’s something that lives within me.” What emerged here can be best be explained with a few lines from the book ‘Sex Shamans’: “Your suspicions are the perfect reflection of your own shadow. Take accountability for your own sexual integrity, brother, and I’ll take care of mine. Being the self-appointed hero that saves women from other men isn’t going to repair your sexual shame or make up for the times you’ve been out of integrity or hurt by someone. That’s your inner work, my friend.” […] “In the same way that women objectified men’s desires, men also do this with other men and with themselves. It’s internalized oppression. What we saw […] was an outward reflection of the deep sexual mistrust that men have for each other.” I know this distrust very well. Because I’m fighting against it to this very day. In others, and still in myself. He eventually did conclude that him being triggered came from the desire to also be forthcoming about his desires towards women. Which he never really allowed himself to do. He never approached a woman for example. So all men who do must be assholes and disrespectful predators. The reason I took his comments as a compliment, is because in a strange way he validated the journey I’ve been on for the last 13 years.

Hey brother, I watched the Louis Theroux Manosphere documentary three times last week. Not because I enjoyed it. But because something kept nagging at me that I couldn't quite put into words. Everyone is talking about it. The hypocrisy, the hostility toward women, the performative confidence. And they're not wrong. But to me, all of that is surface level. What bothers me most is what's underneath it. These men are exploiting the genuine pain of young men who never got what they needed. And are calling it guidance. Here's the thing though. None of us got properly educated about what being a man means. Not really. No one sat us down and said: this is who you are now, this is how you do it, we've got you. We all just figured it out as we went. And we all, in our own ways, paid the price for that. That absence is ancient. It goes back further than feminism, further than social media, further than anything we can easily blame. Somewhere along the way, the rituals that turned boys into men just quietly disappeared. And nobody noticed until the consequences started showing up everywhere. The manosphere showed up into that vacuum. And for all their many flaws, at least they're offering something. A sense of direction. A feeling of brotherhood. An answer to the question every uninitiated boy is quietly asking: am I enough, and do I belong? The tragedy is that their answer to that question is so deeply immature. Because that's what this actually is. Not toxic masculinity. Immature masculinity. The fantasy of what a teenage boy thinks being a man looks like. Rebellious, edgy, status-obsessed, hostile, performative. It's not masculinity that went wrong. It's masculinity that never got the chance to grow up. And when you see it that way, the anger fades a little. What you're left with is something closer to sadness. These are uninitiated men, inspiring uninitiated boys, in an endless loop. The ones drawn to this content aren't bad people. They're hungry people. Hungry for exactly what you and I are still working toward ourselves:

Hey brother, Most men think their problem with women… is women. That was me too. For a long time, I surrounded myself almost exclusively with women. I didn’t really resonate with other men. I wasn’t into the competitiveness, the roughness, the loudness that often comes with male groups. I preferred conversation, softness, connection. So I became the guy who had female friends. And I was almost always… just the friend. Not because I didn’t have opportunities. Looking back, I can see that clearly. But I lacked direction. I didn’t trust myself. I didn’t know how to act on desire. I had access, but no examples to follow. When I finally decided I wanted to get better with women, I ran into a problem I didn’t expect: The men around me were holding me back. I remember going out, wanting to approach women, and hearing things like: “Don’t bother her.” “You’re ruining the moment.” “That’s weird.” And the worst part? Those were the same voices already inside my head. So I wasn’t just battling my own insecurities. I was surrounded by people reinforcing them. For a long time, I tried to figure it all out alone. I went out alone. I approached alone. I failed alone. And it was brutal. There were so many nights where I wanted to take action, and I just couldn’t. And there was no one there to call me forward. No one to reflect back to me what I was capable of. That’s when I started realizing something: You cannot build confidence in isolation. Things only started to change when I began meeting other men who were on the same path. Men who also wanted to grow. Men who also felt the fear. Men who were willing to act anyway. And suddenly, everything shifted. Not because I became more skilled overnight. But because I was no longer alone. There’s something powerful about being around men who expect more from you. You stop negotiating with yourself. You act. But that wasn’t even the deepest realization. The deeper one was this: I didn’t just lack male friendships. I distrusted men.

Hey brother, Last month a man joined our monthly men’s gathering. He was going through a divorce. He told us he had been thinking about coming for a while. But like many men, he waited until life forced his hand. When he shared his story, something interesting happened. On the surface, he sounded optimistic. He talked about the future. About the extra freedom he would have. About the things he had learned about himself since the separation. But there was something else in the room. Something you could hear between the lines. Underneath his optimistic words sat a broken man. A man who would have given anything to go back in time and repair the rupture between him and his wife. And in that moment, a familiar pattern made itself painfully clear. The most common moment men wake up and realize they need help… is when they are losing their woman. Not when things are still good. Not when the relationship still has warmth. But when something essential has already broken. And by then, the work becomes much harder. The reason so many relationships fail is because men forget a basic truth. At her core, a woman needs two things: Security and Passion. They are her water and her air. She is always searching for the man who can give her both. Yet most men unconsciously fall into one side. Some men become the Nice Guy. He offers safety. Stability. Reliability. He is kind, attentive, and emotionally aware. But somewhere along the way he lost his edge. He avoids tension. He avoids conflict. He avoids desire. And without tension, passion slowly disappears. Eventually the relationship becomes a partnership built on logistics rather than attraction. Many men only realize what they lost when the distance has already grown too large. Other men go in the opposite direction. They become the Bad Boy. He brings excitement. Adventure. Erotic charge. He makes her feel alive. But he fears commitment. He fears vulnerability. He fears the responsibility of holding another person’s heart.

Hey lover, “I can't find a man who can handle my intensity." She had repeated that phrase multiple times throughout our correspondence before our session. "What do you mean by intensity?" I finally asked. She hesitated, searched for the right words, and finally muttered: “I just feel a lot, okay…” It was a classic "I don't know" wrapped in a different label. A woman who wants something deeply but doesn't have the words, or the permission, to name it. It’s a gap that men throughout history have struggled to bridge. I sure as hell have. But I’ve realized that the frustration we feel as men in these moments reveals a fundamental misunderstanding of her wants and her fears. When a woman says "I don't know" (or hides behind words like "intensity"), there are usually three psychological layers at play: 1. She hasn't experienced it yet. You can’t describe a flavor you’ve never tasted. If she’s never had a lover bold enough to lead her into new terrain, she literally doesn’t have the vocabulary for her own pleasure.  Her "I don't know" is an invitation for you to be the explorer. 2. She’s testing the safety. Sharing a desire is the ultimate vulnerability. She may be silent because she’s waiting to see if you’ll judge her, dismiss her, or crumble under the weight of her honesty.  Her silence is a request for you to build a bigger container of trust. 3. She doesn't want to be the Boss. To fully surrender, she has to let go of the "Instructor" role. If she has to give you a roadmap, she’s stuck in her head, not her body. She wants you to know her pleasure so well that she can finally stop thinking.  Her "I don't know" is a desire to be led. I go into more detail in this week’s video. I also reveal a secret 4th reason. Why not have a watch. Solving this isn't about interrogation or asking more questions. It’s about a shift in your leadership: - Better Framing: Stop asking open-ended questions. Start asking specific "Yes/No" questions. - Bold Invitations: Offer new experiences instead of asking for permission (within consent). - Deep Sensitivity: Learn to read her body language better than she reads it herself.