Confessions of a Reformed InCel

November 17, 2012

[UPDATE 4-26-2018]

It’s been almost 4 years since i left this space of the internet. It’s been almost 6 years since i wrote the below post.

A lot changes with time away from the sphere. I’ve lived a normal life, with a great gal in a ‘normal’ family setting, engaging with society, a totally different man that the one 4, 6, 10+ years ago. Had i not taken that journey, a cathartic one no doubt, who knows where i could have ended up. You couldn’t really write a better ending for the journey i took from the mouth of Hell back to normality.

And then Monday happens. April 23, 2018 at 1:24pm. A beautiful, warm sunny day not unlike the kind 9/11 is remembered for.

I want to state this right off the bat for the record. My heart and my sympathies go out to every individual affected by the Van assault mass murder by the person who i will not name. I won’t acknowledge the killer or immortalize him. Not only do i not condone his actions, i condemn them as strongly as i can condemn anything. He is a coward.

At the height of my depression, at the lowest point in my life being incel, i never considered violence against anyone but myself. Even then i realized that ones actions don’t exist in a bubble, and that every action you apply resonates beyond whatever you’re looking at. But for this individual, he crossed into the dangerous territory where his focus was not to look at others as people who have family and friends and coworkers who will be impacted and grieve. All he saw was a society that isolated him, did not care to help him but instead ridiculed him, and decided that since he lost in the game of life.. he was going to drag as many to the bottom with him before he died. Ultimately he even failed at suicide, which is somewhat ironic.. confirming his failure at everything.

I know somewhere on my blog, there are comments by me, denouncing Elliot Rogers. (I should have made a post, and if i didn’t that would be a glaring oversight on my part). While i have the ultimate empathy for true suffering incels, who have gone without the basic and primal human connection one can have with the opposite sex.. i have NO SYMPATHY whatsoever for those who take that pain and decide to unleash it on others. Those innocent people Elliot shot were not the cause of Elliots incelness. Elliots unwillingness to embrace TRP hard truths were the source of his pain. The people that were run down on Monday in Toronto, so very close to home to me and the ones i love, who could easily have been in his bombsights on any given day, were not the cause of this individuals alleged incelness. An unwillingness to try to become better than he was, was the cause of it.

It was their absolute lack of trying to change to be something better. Or maybe worse, they were just broken and irreparable from the start. I try to believe everyone can be saved.. but who knows anymore. When i watched the video’s of Elliot Roger come out, i sat there horrified. In another life, that *might* have ended up being me had i not course corrected. I wondered if the chance could ever occur, was there something myself.. or anyone much more suited like Rollo, could ever have said to snap him out of his delusional angst? You could see it in his eyes on the videos.. this one is too far gone to help. If you ever wanted to see what ‘entitled to womens bodies’ actually looks like, stare at Elliots face. Most incels don’t feel entitled.. they feel like they’ve been left out of the party everyone else is having. Entitled is crashing the party and ruining it for everyone else.

TRP takes many forms. Early on i decided i wanted to take the ‘become the best you that you can be’ mantra version. I didn’t want to ‘game’ for hookups, i wanted to invest in myself, to truly change who i was so i could confidently command the asking price rather than beg for crumbs. Rollo very recently discussed how many come to TRP and complain they wont be able to carry on ‘the act’. He explained how when he applied it and internalized it, it became part of who he was and second nature, and it was no longer an act, it was just him. That’s the part i tried to emulate.. to take the lessons, and apply them and use them until it no longer felt like i’m pretending to be someone i’m not. But you have to try, and make the time and put in the effort. And you have to have realistic expectations to boot. I will never be Ryan Reynolds or Channing Tatum in looks.. but on the range of unattainable beauty standards, and where i started, i hit a happy medium i was proud of. Can i go further? Sure, but thats my call, not societies.

But you still need to put in the work. Even if you can’t reach the ideal, strive for it. The whole concept of ‘you’re perfect just the way you are’ needs to die. Can you imagine how much Elliot might have thought that about himself? Or the van murderer? If you are unhappy, the only person who can do something about that is YOU. No one else. And telling unhappy people that they’re ok as they are is a recipe for disaster.

I still have complete empathy for the incel community, but i want to hope that the ones who reach the TRP message take the right, and not the wrong lessons from this. Become better, knowledge is power, but apply it properly and dont expect a quick fix! Looking at my ancient story below, you will notice that the happy ending does not occur right away, but years later once the core tenets of TRP are internalized and applied. Shorcuts often lead to more anguish in this regard.

As much as this tragedy has personally disturbed me to the core, i am equally troubled by the way some of the media outlets are handling this. While undoubtedly there are many misogynistic incels (whom you still need to reach out to in order to quell the rage), there are equally harmless ones, confused ones, and angry ones who simply learn for the first time they’ve been playing by the wrong set of books. Were we to actually engage with incels in a real fashion, and first acknowledge that YES, it is debilitating, humiliating and emotionally devastating to the individuals who suffer through it.. we need to actually engage with them without judgement of how and why they got there, and realistically work with them in an honest fashion to help them overcome their problems. Chastising them, yelling at them, mischaracterizing them or applying blanket misogyny labels upon them – WILL NOT – i repeat, will not bring them into the open to educate, treat, rehab or reform them. It will drive them further into darkness where you just might start producing more of these emotionally spent, dead eyed, uncaring, lay waste to the world, reproductive losers in the game of life.. dehumanize everyone surrounding them. They go on to become the next one. Their rationalization is so apparent, i don’t understand why no one can see it.

They spend their entire lives isolated, in pain, wondering what about them is so wrong as to never be desired. It’s not obvious to them, otherwise they’d have done something. Or they’ve been enabled by liars who tell them they’re perfect as they are, to just be themselves. And yet, being themselves only incites ridicule from others, taunting, jeers and derision. Once this isolation hits a peak, they no longer see people around them as people, they see them as abusers. Everyone who is having a good time, smiling, laughing, enjoying life, having lives, having sexual relationships, having romance, sharing emotions.. all in front of the face of the one who is told ‘no, not for you, you can’t play with us’. There are some who are ok with this, accept their lot in life, and stay there. There are other who decide to change themselves so they too can join the game. And finally, there are the Elliots and Toronto van murderer who decide that if they can’t enjoy this life like others can, they’re gonna ruin it for the rest of us. That’s it in a nutshell.

My one wish is that this issue is examined without the polarization we see in todays politics of left and right, where each side screams at the other saying ‘you’re wrong’ and nothing happens except a race to the bottom. You can’t expect people to come to you for help when you’re going to demonize them from the outset. That needs to stop. Incels need help. What that help is and how it reaches them is another discussion altogether. But it’s one that needs to happen to keep shit like this from repeating.

I have not enough words of condolence i can give to the innocents who were taken, and the lives of everyone else who will be affected by their loss. This tragedy hit too close to home.

It could have been me. It could have been me in front of that van on any other routine day. It could have been my family, my friends, my coworkers, anyone i love and care about. It is still surreal that this happened at all.

I also shudder to think ‘could it have been me’ inside the van behind the wheel,.. had i not found TRP and changed my life instead of believing the pretty lies of others. Was i ever capable, would enough time in hell for me produce a similar fate? I don’t ever want to know.

I grieve with Toronto for those who were lost, i have to hope it never happens again. Most of all, that will require changing the way we talk about this issue.

[EDIT – Days after Elliot Roger murders: For anyone new coming here from The Daily Dot, Reddit, Ask Men or anywhere else. Once you are finished reading this piece (due to the interest since the Elliot Rogers murders) and you get all your feathers ruffled about the ‘feelings’ section, please head over HERE for understanding the proper context lest you get your panties in a bunch. If you assume the language was written as intent rather than contextualizing what would be required to have women stripped of their natural biological advantage of being noticed solely for the fact they are female – then i can’t help you or you comprehension skills. peace the fuck out]


November 17, 2012. enough is enough. i warned y’all it might get depressing. here goes. don’t worry, it ends well. i think.


In honor of my 10,000th view.. i’m going to publish what i consider the hardest post i’ve ever written. But it needs to be written, for i may be an extreme, i know i’m not alone. This isn’t written for the PUA or the Alpha or the Pussy Slayer™. This is written for you, the one without hope..  to know there is hope and you can get better.

Thanks for the hits guys! Snapshot taken 07/09/12 at 2:33 pm after 3 weeks on the interwebz.

[actually no.. i’ve crossed 50k. that’s how long i’ve been holding onto this draft, terrified of letting it go. but i saw a comment today that finally let me pull the trigger.]

It is so Very hard to hit that PUBLISH button.

Writing this post is a source of *shame* for me. It’s been sitting in my drafts for about 2 weeks [edit: 5+ months actually]

But at this point in my life having endured what i have, it does not trouble me putting it out in the sphere. I am sure i am not alone in this and that this post will actually help someone out there. Some of you may relate. Women hopefully may finally understand where my anger and cynicism stems from.

So i’ve decided to unleash it. [about time?]

Firstly, before you continue, please go read THIS POST. [Edit Apr.30,2014: Due to the explosion of traffic from AskMen, I have noticed this post is no longer available, so i will instead invite you to go read THIS POST instead ] No offense to the author, my past wasn’t her fault.. but it struck the usual nerve with me. You need to read posts like this to let the feeling of inequality fill you up.

Welcome back..

When i read it or stories like it, these are the THINGS I FEEL (and yes, i know ‘feelings’ are the domain of a woman)

  • When i hear a woman tell me that she’s gone through a dry spell and not had sex in over X weeks/ months.. i feel like putting my fist through her face.
  • When i hear a woman tell me that she feels ugly or unloved or unwanted because her partner hasn’t touched her in over 6 months, i feel like laughing loudly 3 inches from her face.
  • When i hear a woman tell me that she just picked up a random guy for a night of fun because she was lonely, i feel like i’m glad i don’t own a gun.
  • When i hear a woman tell me that i shouldn’t feel bad about having gone without for so long, after all it’s only just sex, i feel like disfiguring her face with a scalpel.

Nature’s cruel joke and cosmic irony in one. I as a man, biologically driven365 days a year to ejaculate and produce sperm as often as possible, and having the drive and desire to want it every waning moment, who is villified for this natural urge and made to feel ashamed of my sexuality, control it and subdue it to conform to the feminine imperative… have to listen to women, who in their solipsism cannot fathom the ordeal of what i’m about to write about, women who biologically ovulate and desire sex rather infrequently compared to men, talk about, no celebrate their sexuality, their urges and desires.. and lament their short dry spells as if the world were coming to an end. They can never understand what a power differential there is in these urges.

Women can say they love sex just as much as men. I would call BS. Until there is a glut of male prostitutes, male escorts, male rub n tugs for female patrons, a demand for male sex workers and strippers i’ll say nay. Unless they’re all having alpha sex on the side perhaps? Or will touching themselves to 50 shades suffice? At least mommy porn is culturally acceptable. Women DO NOT need sex like men do.. otherwise the sphere would not exist.

Anyways.. back to my pitiful former life.

I have no pictures of myself from a time period stretching from high school to my late 20’s, save for some randoms others might have taken of me. I have no memories or recollections of my time in high school. I have no stories of parties, girlfriends or wild flings. It’s a time period i wiped from my mind, much like PTSD. The only way i can recall it is if i sit down and think really hard about it. I rarely do because i don’t like feeling like shit for the hell of it.

I was that beta/omega/zeta. I let myself get LJBF‘ed on multiple occasions being that ‘nice guy’ that male hating cunt Amanda Marcotte despises. I  played by the rules as handed down to me by the feminine authorities on what women would look for and appreciate in a man. I was asked to believe what they said, not what they did. ‘Just be yourself‘ (your nice beta supplicating self) was the golden code.

So here it is… my Incel Hell.

This is where you will stay for the next 12 years. Enjoy your stay.

<deep breath>

Living by the feminist code earned me 12 years of hell. Let that number sink in.













no, that went by too fast. try it this way.

365 + 365 + 365 + 365 +  365 + 365


365 + 365 + 365 + 365 + 365 + 365

4380 days give or take.

4380 days without being validated as a sexual being.

4380 days without physical human contact or touch.

4380 days of isolation and loneliness.

4380 days of silent suffering and silently screaming at mirrors.

4380 days of crippling ridicule and self confidence destruction by my peers.

4380 days during in what should have been the best years and height of my sexual primacy…

…give or take…


Funny pictures required to maintain levity and lessen the urge to kill.

From the Audacious Amateur Blogger in her post about a Sex Hiatus:

Sex is P and VG but it’s also human and human. Even if it’s just for a night, it lets you feel you’re not alone in the world, you shared a biological imperative with someone, you experienced their pleasure with your own.

She also captures the very essence of my whole diatribe in this little bit in her post about one years worth of life changes.

6. No one has held me, touched me, hugged me in such a long time. Humans need physical contact. I don’t feel human.

Human to Human.
I don’t feel human.

I can only imagine what a productive member of civilization i would be IF i was brought up with masculine values and was sexually sated. Instead i spent my life living out the following tale trying to figure out what my problem was and living as a manic bipolar depressive. Instead here i sit, a MGTOW, never finding enough reason or desire to become productive beyond my own means.

From the age of 18-29 i traveled a road that lead me to believe i wasn’t human, wasn’t worthy of love, wasn’t deserving of companionship and that i would probably be better off dead.

I lost my virginity at late 17 to a girl and our relationship lasted for just over 5 months. When it ended i fell into a deep depression. What i should have been told at that moment was to identify what was it about me that made me lack confidence, to fix it and to head back out into the world. To listen to the guys who were #winning

Instead i followed my feminist programming and female advice off a cliff into hell.

Feminism taught me a lot throughout the 80’s and 90’s. It taught me not to question women’s sexual choices. It taught me to treat them with deference and respect. It taught me not to accost them for sex aggressively, but to treat them as human beings. It taught me that i MUST control my shallow, greedy, dangerous impulses but allow a woman the right to indulge in hers. It taught me to be nice for the sake of being nice and not expecting sex in return. To give all my emotional and platonic ability and not dare ask for intimacy in return.

It taught me everything i needed to be creepy, unattractive and doormat ready.

And it was re-enforced by EVERY woman i talked to.

What i SHOULD have been told is “hit the gym, build some muscle, guys with muscles are hawt” – “get braces now, you’ll smile a lot and we love guys with big smiles” – “go see a dermatologist, we love sexy skin on a man” – “cut off your long hair, you don’t look like a rocker, you look like a hippy. crew cuts are sexy, you’d look good in one” – “learn a skill and become good in it. become confident in it. we love confidence”

What i got instead was a constant drumming of “you’re such a good guy, just wait, someone else is out there for you” – “you don’t have to change a thing, you’re a wonderful person, just keep being yourself” – “you don’t need muscles, only jerks care about having big muscles” – “there’s nothing wrong with you, you just need to be a bit more confident that’s all” – “confidence comes from the inside, not from the outside

Patent fucking lies all of them.

My issue was i always believed i was not handsome, rugged or built well enough to attract initial attention. I had poor self image. All the advice to the contrary, telling me I WAS OK AS I WAS allowed me to abdicate my responsibility to start working on that issue. It led me to believe people should like me for who i am, not what my exterior presents. My first cross to bear. Instead of working to fix my skin deep issues and develop a greater sense of self worth, i continued listening to that advice to find one who would appreciate me for my ‘nice‘ qualities instead. This further perpetuated the vicious circle of being constantly friendzoned or rejected outright by women. Being myself was supposed to work but badboys were winning the day. Instead of reading it properly and abandoning the beta to become the badass, i doubled down and started hating badboys and believed that women were just being misguided but they would eventually turn around and come to love the greater qualities of love, nurturing, compassion and empathy i had massive stockpiles and reserves of. I shoved all my chips to the center of the table all in, and became a HUGE white knight Mangina.

I got to have the pleasure of defending women from the barbs and negs of my player friends only to watch these same women i defended end up going home to sleep with them. My brain simply could not comprehend what the fuck was going on. What the fuck is wrong with these women? Oh Wait! I’m not allowed to question that.

One of the final straws was me being in stuck in an LJBF with a person whom i had mad loving feelings for. One day i confessed to her how i felt and told her the pain was just too great for me to bear and i needed a YES OR NO answer. She only wanted to be my friend. I said “you are going to lose that friendship… why not take the chance and give it a try?” She said no and ended that friendship rather than try a relationship with a ‘really wonderful and caring guy’. Her words.

2 weeks later she was fucking a player asshole narcissist dick in a NSA relationship. That dick was my former friend who knew how badly i wanted to be with her. He never missed an opportunity to rub it in my face how lovely her back looked. I guess she enjoyed doggy style.

She chose to fuck someone who cared not one bit for her and only used her for her vagina instead of someone who loved her. But it was OK because she was only looking for ‘fun’ and not a relationship.

My world shattered.

You can only go so long getting knocked down before you decide that it might be best to stay down. The litany of thoughts raging through my head were endless.

  • no one will ever love me
  • even the ones who ‘like’ you don’t want you
  • what chance do you have with those who don’t know you
  • no woman wants anything to do with me sexually
  • there must be something horribly wrong with me
  • i must be a hideous grotesque abomination
  • i will never feel the warmth of a woman’s skin
  • no woman will ever yearn or desire me
  • i would never look into a woman’s eyes as she drew me into her
  • i would never caress  a woman’s face
  • never again would i know what a passionate kiss felt like
  • never again would i be validated as a sexual human being
  • i don’t deserve love
  • i don’t deserve to go on, i don’t deserve to live
  • life will go on without me
  • no one will really miss me maybe
  • even if they do, no one cared enough when it mattered
  • how long would i need to run the car in the garage before i pass out
  • turn the key you coward
  • mom will find my body in the garage
  • she will understand, she knows you’ve been suffering
  • i might chicken out, i can’t do it this way
  • where can i get a gun
  • i can’t get one. but a pellet gun looks real..
  • maybe i can stage a bank heist, take hostages, wait for the cops and force them to do it
  • death by cop
  • i hope it doesn’t hurt too much when i die

This isn’t hyperbole. I lived those scenarios out in my mind numerous times. For all intents and purposes i was an evolutionary failure. With so much FAIL, my body began to realize it was not going to fulfill it’s primary biological function of reproduction and had begun to contemplate ways of me to expedite my removal from the gene pool. Death felt like my only answer.

Respect, Love Acceptance, Belonging. Not for me? OK. Russian roulette sounds fun at this point.

I don’t think many females on this planet can contemplate or wrap their head around the gravity of this.

  • I (and most men) cannot just walk into a bar, bat our eyelashes and get sexual validation on a moments notice for a quick ‘pick me up’
  • It’s not just about ‘sex’. (well, for me anyways)

It’s about the connection sex implies. Of being wanted, desired, to be loved both mentally and physically, to be validated, to share, to connect, feel alive, be human. Or maybe i just view sex differently than your average slut if they only view it as ‘just sex‘. Lately i’ve gotten the sense that a majority of men (read Beta/Delta/Omega) place more emotional ties to sex than women (and i’ve read a lot about how men are the more romantic sex).. which is so far removed from the script i grew up hearing that men are primal pigs and women want loving nurturing sex and commitment. But i always have to go back to Badger’s mind blowing comment he made here some time ago:

And women never seem to understand that sexual access is the highest, most direct assignment of value they can give a man – they think they are complimenting men when they tell them “you’re a great guy and you’ll make some woman really lucky someday! Those badboys I sleep with are just short-term flings, I’m not serious about them.”

F that noise. It also puts the lie to the conventional wisdom that sex is REALLY REALLY DEEP and IMPORTANT to women, and they won’t give it away except to a guy they think is a really good match.

Suffice it to say, somehow i held on. But i lost a huge part of my soul in the process and have been forever damaged by it. This isn’t something you ever recover from, you only bury it and keep piling more dirt over it, hoping to level out the massive bump, but it’s always there.


Misogyny. It doesn’t appear out of thin air.

Here’s the kicker.

Everytime… EVERY.MOTHER.FUCKING.TIME i could have taken corrective action, i was lied to. Each time my buddies told me that i had to become an asshole, (their way of saying don’t listen to what a woman wants, do what they go for) i was once again led astray by a woman.

By my mother
By my teachers
By magazine articles
By other girls i asked advice for
By Oprah
By my friendzone crush and object of my desire.
(and yes.. by my marriage counselor)


I can still remember getting mad enough after a while that i started acting like a dick. After all what i was previously doing wasn’t working.. try something new right? And what did the girl i crushed on tell me when she didn’t like my new attitude?


That line reverberated in my head everytime i knew my asshole friend was at her place fucking her like an animal.

Hence all the THINGS I FEEL at the start of this post. It’s visceral. I can’t control it. It’s a part of me now. I can only manage it. But to each and every one of those women who i used in the above THINGS I FEEL section, it is my firm belief that you simply have NO CLUE what loneliness is unless you’ve contemplated what gun metal tastes like as it rubs against your tongue pressing into the roof of your mouth.

If you truly believe that after 2 weeks, 3 months, a year of not having physical relations with the opposite sex is true suffering.. i ask you if you felt your life was in danger. If not.. you’re not suffering enough. If so.. TRY IT FOR 12 YEARS and get back to me.

I as a man, am programmed to want it almost every day, vilified for wanting it, and taught to be shameful of it, and to conform to a certain way of thinking to acquire it.

Women, who desire it mainly during ovulation, control the access of it and demand a resource extraction for it, FREELY cough it up wantonly when the mood strikes, not for ‘mating’ but for fun, to embrace it, explore it, enjoy it and with those more often than not, least worthy of it in terms of commitment or sticking around if pregnancy ensues.

This post makes me angry. It makes me feel a lot of things. Hurt. Shame. A sense of loss. Imprisoned in time. Time i’ll never get back.

It would have been better if i lost 12 years doing hard time in prison. At least i’d have an excuse. At least i’d have some badboy cred. Maybe even a tattoo?

In fact, you could call this my own personal rape. I’m sure women will be up in arms for me calling it that, but what is the criteria for it? I feel shame. I am unable to talk about it with others. I will invariably be blamed for the outcome i suffered because of the way *I* acted. Being beta was ‘wearing a miniskirt’. Acting like a NiceGuy was ‘being overly flirtatious’. Respecting women and pedestalizing them was going up to a guys room at 2am for a late night coffee.

I deserved it for being unattractive. You deserved it for being too attractive. We both got fucked and not in the way we wanted it.

You had no power and had violation inflicted upon you. I had no power or right to feel like a human being inflicted upon me.

You were penetrated against your will. Feminism and woman bent me over and fucked me up the ass while laughing at me.

We both wanted death.

Yet i was a source of ridicule, you are the poster child of Slutwalk.

And so it is.

But you can’t go back, you can only move forward and try and make the best of the time you got left. I do my best to leave it in the past as these feelings will not help me move forward in life, or allow me to be happy. But the bitterness of having been put on that path that scarred me forever by a bunch of lying misguided nonsensical feminine/feminist talking points about men being more in touch with their feelings and women preferring ‘nice‘ qualities over brutish, decisive, dominant behavior.. well i don’t think it will ever fade with time.

I paid a heavy price for believing it.


I was at a nightclub celebrating the 30th birthday of my now ex-wife. I was 29. I really hated clubs, the atmosphere, the pretension, the obnoxious ego inflated women, overpriced alcohol, etc.. so i cut out of the party early and grabbed a taxi. I was in such a foul mood for having been there and just feeling miserable. So i told the cabby to go to the strip club i was familiar with. Inside i watched a sweet thin Polish girl dancing so i went to perv row. Since i was so angry at the world inside i must have subdued my NiceGuy™ really well, because i went full Dark Triad on this girl, and i had no clue that that term existed at the time. Finally i took her to the back for a quick dance.  I told her she was beautiful and she blushed. I asked her if she had a boyfriend and she said yes. I don’t know why but then i asked her if she was pissed off at him. I had no real reason to ask, i just did. She quickly opened up and said yes and started explaining why, all the while im touching her in all the right places. So i tell her “why don’t we go back to your place and give him something to really be pissed about”.. i guess my hands were doing the trick because she reached down and felt up my dick and said “im going to tell the DJ im ending early, meet me in the lot in 15 minutes”.

I didn’t even pay for the dance.

That night i discovered something. That 12 years of watching good quality euro porn helps you understand where and how to touch a woman in just the right places. The one thing i was terrified of was how long i’d last, and amazingly enough, not only did i go all night and give her two big OHHH’s… i actually had to fake my orgasm. I could have kept going. I couldn’t explain it, and i didn’t care to. My confidence level shot up to over 9000.

Confidence doesn’t come from inside as i had been lied to over the years. It grows over time through external validations of success. If you repeat the success you become more confident. Fail enough times and the confidence suffers. Just be confident they said, fucking idiots. Nailing this stripper and nailing her like a boss did the trick!

Over the course of the next year i would bang 3 more strippers, [stripper game, i had no fucking idea but looky here – link] getting into a casual with two of them for a time. I even fucked one inside the club.. and let me tell you the bouncer was a scary guy so i was playing with fire but damn what a thrill! I’ll never forget how wide eyed that cute Puerto Rican girl got when i eviscerated her buttugly girlfriend right in front of her when she called me ‘gay or something’ when i refused to go for a dance with her entitled ass. Soon as the ugly was gone, Latina heat dragged me into the VIP. 1 condom. 0 dollars. 1 sweet fuck. Priceless.

The girls of HookingUpSmart raked me over the coals for having such low class as to actually have sex with strippers. [yeah, ladies who are beautiful who take off their clothes for men for money fucking me for free perish the thought] Such a low opinion of me they had, that they debated if i was even worth going out with on a date if they knew i’d been with those strippers. My 12 years of hell were not mitigating enough to allay the stigma. Those dirty low class strippers..

Strippers who treated me as more human than the women i actually loved. Even the crazy one who stabbed her mother.

The knowledge of me banging strippers actually played to my advantage [preselection?] and allowed me to once again hook up with my ex-girlfriend who later became my wife. She seemed to enjoy quizzing me every so often as to how she compared to those ‘Ladies of the Night’ as she called them, always seeking validation that she stacked up and cut the muster. And much sexual satisfaction was to be had for a nice long time. Of course that was until the wife became unhaaapy with my reversion to betatude and showed me the door. That’s when i finally delved into the realm of the internet and discovered about Game, dominance, attraction triggers, evo psych, mra’s, pua’s, the manosphere. All the pretty lies perished, like domino’s falling in unison.

With the knowledge i acquired, the discipline of weight training and building up a body i am proud of and not ashamed of, learning how to be social, burying the beta and believing in my worth i finally am at a point in life where I have changed my views and outlook. I am not ruled by pussy.. i conquer it on my terms or leave it to it’s own useless fate. I’ve adopted an MGTOW lifestyle, do things with myself in mind first and foremost following my own imperative, will only entertain relationships with women who qualify themselves to me by bringing more to the table than pretty looks and a vagina, else they just get a pump n dump. The ability to not blink when i destroyed my final toxic LJBFzone relationship with an emotional vampire who expected all the benefits of relationship without returning what i needed.

5 years ago i’d have be in my room crying over it or worse, apologizing to her for hurting her feelings. Today, i stand tall and say FUCK IT, my own needs and interests come first before anyone else and im ready to move on to find one who desires and deserves all the awesomeness i have to give. I don’t care how angry she got or how any feminist might say i just played nice to get in her pants. I’M THROUGH PLAYING NICE. I’m built, confident, nothing left to prove, cannot be persuaded by the power of pussy, and doing what i like for myself. I don’t fall on my sword for the needs of others. Look to thine own ass first is the creedo.

It was a long and painful fuckless road for me, one i wish i didn’t have to go down. But i don’t get a mulligan, there are no re-do’s, there is no respawn. Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, and i’m still here. So i pause, reflect, introspect, identify, analyze and correct where i went wrong in the attempt to never repeat the mistakes, those fucking bluepill mistakes ever again. It’s called LEARNING and PERSONAL GROWTH. Evolution is a painful and messy affair.

But i’m feeling much better now, tho if you insist on bringing up your ‘dry spell’ story around me, just try and ignore the pained face i’m making as i envision you getting caught in a fire that melts your face off like the creepy black hatted dude in Raiders of the Lost Ark and so then you’ll know what a real dry spell is.

You haven’t a fucking clue what a dry spell is.

Some may say this was one long pitiful rant. Meh.. you could be right. But i feel it needed to be told, this tale of misery to triumph. As i see it, my part in this tale is over, my chapter is done. I’m too old to do anything about it now, you can’t go back. All i can do is keep my promise to not expend my valued time, energy or resources propping up a happy, had her fun with alpha’s and now settle with beta bux little old moi. Nope. I’m going lone wolf alpha and enjoying the rest of my life on my terms as i see fit. This isn’t about me anymore.

It’s about the next ‘me’ who’s in highschool or college right now, who’s sitting in his room alone at night wondering why some girl he really likes and treats well is off fucking some dude she just met at the bar. Who’s being ignored because of rampant hypergamy, inflated ego’s and facebook attention whores who vastly overrate their sex rank and will be lining up to get slaughtered by PUA’s and frat boys, only to go to complain to that poor, introverted, incel beta LJBF in training that all men are assholes and how if only she could find someone like him.

I want to break the endless cycle of suffering and teach these kids in high school to tell these evil leeches to go fuck themselves, break the LJBF, WORK OUT, build some mass, educate yourself, IGNORE the bitches and focus on yourself instead of chasing them and inflating their ego’s. You’ll be better off in the long run and well ahead of the game.

And you don’t have to worry about me. I keep at it p90x style, keep my body tight, i keep socializing, i keep looking for that diamond in the rough, i won’t reward entitled bitches with mind blowing orgasms but leave them to their pump and dump fates. I look 10,000 times better than i did before and can Dark Game tight young strippers again if i so choose. I have an open relationship married girl on the side (married ladies seem to love me, why?), i’m throwing innuendo at anything that’s got long legs and a vagina, i have the power to banish anything that flakes or cold shoulders me, i do not yield an inch to the power of pussy, and i’ve discovered a new form of Game that works for what i’m looking for in a woman. I call it Atheist game (soon to be post for my religious friends/readers). Let’s just say, the cute chaste and loyal good looking girl i’m looking for, is easier to spot when you play yourself as the devil and they don’t fail. This is what i want most. Reading the Rawness made me realize i will not heal my soul by going on a pump n dump spree nor make me a better person. No bandaids on fatal wounds.

Moving on Redpill style.



So now you know where my cynicism and rage comes from. Now you know why it’s not a healthy idea for me to ‘man up and marry a slut’. Now you know why i hate feminism and it’s evil ideology. Now you know why i view slutty behavior as i do. Now you know why i intrinsically never believe what women say at face value, i only follow what they do.

Now you know why feminists call me a woman hater and a misogynist. The funny thing is i practiced feminism to the letter, and by treating women as human beings and respecting them as prescribed. I loved women and cared for women. I did all those nice things not simply to get into their pants, but because i was a decent human being, a human male, and someone who *wanted* to get into  a loving relationship with a woman.

And by loving women the way feminism asked, i was nearly destroyed for it.

Misogyny. No child was ever born with it. And here’s an ethical question for you to ponder. Yeah.. no one is ‘entitled’ to pussy, but for all the guys who have trouble mating due to Hypergamy-Gone-Wild™ (or as i call; the new normal).. what should we do with them? Euthanize them?

I’m sure there was more i could write into this, but i have to let it go at this point. And your eyes are probably bleeding, as are mine. I hope this post isn’t going to haunt me. If it keeps one young guy from taking a swan dive off a tall bridge, my work here is done. I just hope i don’t wake up thinking in my best Londo Mollari voice – “Great Maker, what have i done!”


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