My Sweet, Smart Boyfriend Got Sucked Into The Manosphere

At first, it’s subtle. Maybe it’s a podcast clip about “high-value men” or a TikTok breaking down why women should be more “submissive.” Next, maybe there’s a YouTube video framed as dating advice that slowly slides into something darker. Then, one day, your boyfriend repeats it back to you — not as a joke but as a fact.

A new Netflix documentary, Louis Theroux: Inside the Manosphere, explores how this kind of misogynistic content has inundated social media and infiltrated some men’s worldviews. In it, the journalist interviews radical influencers who spout toxic ideas about dating and gender roles. Justin Waller, for example, says “women have contributed nothing to society.”

He and other influencers, such as Andrew Tate and Jordan Peterson, claim the world is set up to work against men. They say that becoming “red-pilled” helped them understand this more clearly, referencing a term from The Matrix in which you either take a blue pill and remain blind to the truth, or take a red pill and “see behind the curtain.”

A 2025 Movember Foundation report found that two-thirds of young men are regularly engaging with masculinity influencers online. Many of those viewers take it with a grain of salt, but some get sucked in. Below, Bustle spoke with three women who unwittingly found their partners sliding into the manosphere.

“When women receive gifts from men, it’s prostitution.”

Caleb* and I met in college. He was a D1 athlete and a year older than me, and I met him on Hinge even though I’d already seen him around campus. My ideal partner is someone who uplifts me, and in the beginning, Caleb appeared to do that. He was so nice. He would compliment me and was very helpful.

But after he graduated and moved to a different state, it felt like every single time we talked, he would say things that were factually incorrect or sounded like red-pilled taglines. Like, "Women cheat more than men.” He would never tell me where he was hearing these beliefs. At first, he’d watch that hyper-masculine fitness content but he never admitted what else he started watching.

He’d say that when women receive gifts from men, it's prostitution, and they're trying to receive gifts in exchange for sex, which was his reason for never buying me gifts. He’d constantly accuse me of talking to other guys and say that my friends weren't good women. If I wanted to go out for a dinner date, he would say that women always want to take advantage of men, or say, "Oh, you just want a free meal out of me." I'd be confused and push back on that, but it was like he had made his mind up.

I’m a very confident, headstrong person, but I started genuinely hating myself.

It got to the point where I stopped seeing my therapist and telling my friends about what I was dealing with because I knew everyone would tell me, “Leave him.” He’d say that my face was starting to look puffy and that I’d gained weight, which I couldn’t do in our relationship. It was like he was aiming to hurt me. I’m a very confident, headstrong person, but I started genuinely hating myself.

I was constantly walking on eggshells around him and essentially apologizing for existing, and that’s when I knew I had to break up with him. He basically said, "OK, well, if that's what you want." I think that’s what the manosphere teaches you — don’t beg them to stay. Don’t concede to a woman.

— Olivia*, 22, Washington, D.C.

“The first person I’ve seen get radicalized by TikTok.”

Mike* and I met on Bumble about three years ago. On his profile, his political affiliation on the app was liberal, and he listed women’s rights as one of the causes he cared about. We were really aligned on our values. About a year into our relationship, he and his friends started watching Andrew Tate videos just to make fun of them and talk about how wild his takes were. I’d hang out with them, and at first, they’d be like, “I can’t believe these manosphere bros have a following. They make no sense.” Then, about six months after that, they’d subtly say things like, “OK, but this part of what they said I agree with.”

One day, I walked into Mike’s apartment, and he was having a very real conversation with a friend about whether women should be in the workforce, because that’s what’s causing inflation. They’d apparently heard it on a podcast. That was the first time I thought to myself, “I’m not sure how much of this is a joke anymore.”

They also blamed women for many men’s lack of dating prospects, saying that because women are more educated now, they want more from their heterosexual male partner, and men are suffering for that reason. One manosphere creator Mike watched would talk about how even though he's short, he's still able to get women to have sex with him, and then he discards them.

There were certain social gatherings I felt like I could no longer invite him to in fear he’d bring up one of his “hot takes.”

Still, Mike’s behavior toward me was good for the most part. The two of us as a unit were fine, which made it hard to leave the relationship. But his expectations changed slightly. He has a master’s degree, and when we first met, he would often say that having two high-earners in a relationship — he works in tech, I’m an attorney — means more income for the household. But then, he started to say things like, "Oh, but you'll leave your job once we have kids.” There were certain social gatherings I felt like I could no longer invite him to in fear he’d bring up one of his “hot takes.” I used to joke, "I had heard of people getting radicalized off TikTok, but you're the first one I've seen,” and he would laugh in acknowledgement. But suddenly our humor no longer was aligned.

When I broke up with him, I told him, "I feel like you're becoming a hateful person. I don't want to feel like I constantly have to advocate for women. My relationship should be a safe space.” His response? I was “too progressive” for him now.

—Leila*, 30, New York, New York

“I would ask you to come over but I don’t think you’re confident enough for me.”

I was married for over 25 years, and when that relationship ended I started online dating. Most of my matches were between 28 and 35. That’s when I met Will*, who was 30. He was charming and well-spoken. He told me he didn’t have to work because he sold some app for loads of money, and he lived in a really gorgeous apartment in an affluent area, so he presented like a really polished person.

Will was very smooth at first, but I’m a social worker so I started picking up on his behavioral patterns pretty quickly. I think he realized that straightaway, and he didn’t like it. One night, I went over and he got wine, he had soft jazz on, he asked if I wanted to watch Fifty Shades of Grey. I realized instantly what he was trying to set up and said, "Well, one, I don't drink. Two, that music is dreadful. And three, I'm so not watching that."

Although I've dated someone that age before, I've never come across anybody who was quite so controlling. Will’s ego was untenable, and he wasn’t the cleverest. His big thing was negging. I didn’t think he was doing it on purpose, but he’d say negative things to me in hopes it would make me more attracted to him. Like, "I would ask you to come over, but I don't think you're confident enough for me” — to which I’d say, "Then I'll go and find somebody else."

He’d sometimes ask me to come over and tell me what I should wear, like, “I want you wearing a skirt with stockings and heels. Send me a picture before you come over, and I’ll let you know if it’s OK." The level of control he thought he had, if it hadn’t been so funny to me, would have been quite disturbing.

Ultimately, our fling ended because a guy I was previously seeing came back into the picture, and my relationship with Will faded out. But a few months ago he came up as a suggested follow on Instagram, so naturally I looked at his profile. There, I found a website he made that was mostly about his crypto business, but also had a section called “love and relationships” where he wrote red-pilled dating advice. There was a post about how negging creates sexual tension, so now I know for certain that he was doing it on purpose.

— Rose*, 56, Warwick, United Kingdom

*Names have been changed.

Interviews have been edited and condensed for clarity.