Garbage In, Garbage Out

There is a term in photography relating to the outcome of your final product dependent on the source material you begin with. It originally derived from computer science in relation to data, because computers are dumb and only do what you feed into it. So if you feed it shit, it will output shit.

From the Wiki:

Garbage in, garbage out (GIGO) in the field of computer science or information and communications technology refers to the fact that computers will unquestioningly process unintended, even nonsensical, input data (“garbage in”) and produce undesired, often nonsensical, output (“garbage out”).

The same thing applies to pictures. Photoshop has come a long way from it’s heyday. It can make the ordinary extraordinary. But the same rule applies, the better the quality of the photo going in, the less Photoshop you actually require to make it amazing. And you should never be using Photoshop as a means of constantly trying to save garbage photo’s. Not if your bread and butter is photography!

I saw this photo floating around on Facebook, and it seems that art imitates life is more than an apt way of framing this picture as a snapshot of our current society’s behavior wrt relationships.

With the exception of the reference to negatives, i would say this picture describes the digital age quite well.

The digital age, even in guilty. My Nikon can take thousands of pics, throw away shots. Part of the strategy is to switch to ‘drive’ mode and continuously take pics hoping one of the many turns into gold, but this is usually for action shots where the motion is frantic.

However i like to think the best shots are the ones you plan ahead for, and with the right education in lighting theory, composition and mastery of your equipment you will get the best source material. The greatest photographers will wait patiently for the perfect shot to present itself, waiting hours for just the right lighting from the greatest light source we have.. the sun, and it’s position in the sky.

Garbage in/garbage out is the motto. Start with the best in-camera picture you can take so you end up using the most minimal amount of post processing (Photoshop) as possible.

In this regard, you can consider Photoshop as an analogy for Game.

Thank You

(apologies in advance, a lot of rambling and repeating in this post. it’s a poor writing effort but i just wanted to put this out there anyways. i’m too tired to play copy editor tonight. cheers)

I hear it often now, or some variation of it.

I hear it now where i once did not.

I hear it coming from the mouths of women. All women.

It used to only come from Asian women (who seem to naturally retain their femininity and deference, at least towards white men), and the elderly (who grew up in a time of chivalry).. but now it comes from  all women.

Young, old, thin, thick, blonde, brunette, redhead, hot, fugly, liberal, conservative. Maybe even feminists?

Doesn’t matter. They’re all saying it to me when i hold it open.

The door.

Yes folks, i still end up holding doors for ladies. Always have, always will. Le sigh..

So i have to ask “What’s changed?”

Why am i now getting thank you’s left right and center for an action that hasn’t changed one iota. The action of holding a door open for a woman?

One of two things.

1. Either the women have changed in reflection to a society that seems to be further distancing itself from the pollution that is feminism and attempting to regain/retain chivalry because it is scared that feminism has driven men to the brink of abandoning all women
2. Or i have changed, and women are not reacting to the action itself, but in how the action is performed.. and by whom.

The first may be a plausible scenario, but would still not explain the 100% increase in pleasant responses i have received. Such a percentile change would mean that this sea change has already taken place. We all know that isn’t the case, and the statistical odds of me running into woman after woman like this would be astronomical.

So i must conclude that a majority of it is they are responding to ME as the variable that changed in the equation.

Now.. i’m not saying i’m James fucking Bond, i’m not. I would never classify myself as an ‘alpha’. More like a reformed beta, gone into greater Beta. But those moments when i nail confidence down and am truly feeling it.. you’d be hard pressed to distinguish.

And it kind of makes sense to me now, when i think of who i was back then.. and who i am now. My firm belief is women of all stripes, colors, creeds and ideologies will be receptive to ‘MEN’ who open doors for them if they are attracted enough to them ever so briefly to consider what a possible tryst might be like. Experience tells me that women certainly abhor the idea of being inseminated with unfit and unworthy semen, so they would hiss upon undesirable men who might seek to curry favor by being chivalrous in the hopes of romantic persuasion.

When i was undesirable.. most women would find ways to bend space and time in an effort to avoid acknowledging my gesture.

Today, especially when wearing my tank-tops during the summer, women couldn’t curtsy and say Thank You fast enough, their smiles betraying their thoughts. The second glance they’d shoot me farther away granted me the same feeling as a scientist when his theory pans out correctly.

Simply from the way and manner in which i confidently open a door.

And it is without reservation that all aspects of Game helped me get here. From my initial Dark Triad game which got me out of my nightmare, to learning about Game and attraction, along with Inner Game and fixing the core. Every facet of game helped.

I’ve tracked a lot of my incoming traffic, i like to see who’s talking about me and what i’m adding to the discussion. I have seen my name alot on a lot of forums and so forth. I do recall one person saying that they liked what i wrote but that i still used too much PUA crap in my writing. They don’t like the concept of ‘pretending to be someone you’re not‘ or ‘faking it till you make it‘. What they’re actually saying tho is that they are scared of working on changing themselves for the better and instead should simply be accepted as they are.

(Fat acceptance anyone?)

To each their own, i won’t dictate to any man how they wish to live. I only show my own example from where i started – to where i’ve ended up as an example for others to explore if they so choose. They think that people who peddle game are parasites taking advantage of the vulnerable.

Suffice it to say, you can see i offer no books, courses or any monetary sink holes for people to fall into. While i will agree that there is a group of people who sell the downtrodden unreasonable hopes of landing HB9’s with 3 simple questions that will make her want to fuck you, and the idea that you can turn a love shy, introverted, and socially awkward wallflower into a Mac Daddy over the course of a weekend seminar is selling snake oil at it’s finest.. it doesn’t invalidate the central tenets of Game philosophy, Evo Psych and attraction triggers evolved from our cavemen ancestors. Or as Private Man says – Biology Always Wins.

I think what rubs some of these guys the wrong way (and i will concur) is that alot of the salesmen are duplicitous charlatans who start off from a dubious premise. I’ll use Paul Janka as an example. This guy sells ‘The Attraction Formula’.. and for what it’s worth, i read it. I read it 3 weeks after breaking up with my exwife. I downloaded it from das Pirate Bay so i didn’t contribute to the pool of unfortunate men funding him. The book is almost a collection of core game rules that you could end up figuring out for yourself if you spent enough time bloghopping in the sphere. The reason i pick on Paul is because he starts his sales pitch with a doozy (and i’m paraphrasing because i can’t recall it) that sounds something like this:

Look at me, i’m not the most attractive, or good looking guy out there. I’m Joe Average. But with my system, you can get laid with many different women, one for every day of the week!

• Full head of hair – check
• 5 oclock shadow – check
• masculine jawline – check
• dark full eyebrows – check
• alpha features and facial tone – check
• perfect teeth – check
• looks great in a suit – check

Yes. Joe Average indeed.

 

I do not see him as having trouble with woman since he has his foot half way through the door and many women will be pleased to be approached by him. It’s his ball to fumble afterwords but he has ‘Game’ built into his face.

I’ll bet most of his students do not. There are some guys who will never be able to pull HB9’s no matter what. Like attracts like and +/- a point or two is the basic operating trend.

So yes, the detractors of game have a point i might concede in that some people who peddle game are really selling false hopes in order to monetize on the misfortunes of the beta to omega class. I’ll grant that.

I’m not one of them. I’m not peddling anything other than a collection of my stories and my transformation (and the odd rant or two about rape/sluts/frivorces/mens rights/mgtow advice/yadayada) nothing more.

So it hurts when people say that learning game is bogus, or it sucks that you have to act or pretend, and they feel like they’d be tired sooner or later having to keep up the facade.

When you fulfill your transformation, there is no facade.. there is only you.

It is not the spoon that bends, only your mind.

I can surely assure them and assuage their feelings that i am neither pretending to be someone else or faking anything. I am not ‘play acting’. I am the very same person who i was 20 years ago, in mind and spirit. The only thing that changed is how i present myself to the world.

Through my physical appearance, to the better fitting and fashionable clothes, to the grooming (and accepted loss of hair gone cue ball, embracing instead of ashamin’), to fixing my teeth, and learning both what women find attractive (and being able to fit in without much fuss), and knowing what they find unattractive (and knowing when and by how much to taper off the bad beta), and in knowing when not to partake in any drama or fuss (mgtow, knowing my objective real value, treating myself as the prize, no pussy pedestal, easy dismissal of entitled brats/whores).

Game isn’t all smoke and mirrors, fakery, pimp hats and feather boa’s. Those who are internally confident and sure of themselves can use game as a supplement and make it a  part of who they are, and it doesn’t come off as awkward, unnatural or pathetic. And you don’t get internally confident just by repeating pickup lines like a parrot. You can’t fake it for long, if at all. Once you fix the core, it’s not faking.

There’s no fakery when you can carry on a conversation with a women and lace it with sexual tension and innuendo, and hold eye contact throughout, whereas before you wouldn’t be able to say anything sexually charged without blushing and averting her eyes like a sheepish shy omega.

Those who dismiss game, are simply dismissing learning and mastering the ability to have control over ones actions. You can look at game as a means to learn shortcuts to attraction, but without the inner confidence of actually knowing it, you end up looking like a punk who writes cheques his body can’t cash. I look at game more as a means to help you prevent your beta/gamma unattractive traits from coming to the surface and letting ‘the real you’ shine through.

As i go through life now, i don’t think.. i just do. I’m not acting, I am ME. Inner game allowed me to become the best me possible. Game itself taught me how to curb my unattractive traits so that i only present the very best me possible at all times.

When i’m walking down the street with my head held high, walking tall, cock leading me.. i’m not acting. It is what i have become. 5 years ago i was a slouching, foot dragging, shoulders/head in front of cock beta.

When i’m telling a joke, i smile, hold the gaze, laugh and keep my head face to face with my recipient. I do not stutter over my words, mess up punch lines, giggle throughout the joke, snort, or sheepishly look at the floor while in the company of others.

When i’m speaking with people, i’m cognoscente of how i speak, modulating the inflections of my voice, maintaining control, holding my frame and using gestures only when required. I speak like i walk, poised and with purpose. I am thinking about what i am going to say before i say it. What i don’t do is ramble, get stuck on ‘uhhh’s, let my voice enter tonal ranges of a prepubescent teenager, or flail my arms around like an airline ground traffic controller hopped up on speed and coke.

And yes, even something as simple as opening a door. I calculate in advance whether to pick up my pace to make it to the door in time, smoothly and effortlessly, or slow down if i feel i’m too far away. I open the door in one fluid motion and position myself in front of the door with ease, and attain eye contact, and smile. I do not run at a sprint towards the door, i do not make it obvious it was planned, i do not struggle with the door or flail like a flag in the wind. I don’t behave submissively at the door or look at the floor. I don’t park my ass behind the door.

And all this happens now without me consciously even thinking about it. There are moments where i falter or trip, but i recover so much quicker and easier as well.

These changes didn’t happen overnight, and it wasn’t parlor tricks or a wearing eye makeup and pretending to be a pirate.

These were life changes to make me better, while retaining the essence of who i was. I didn’t change, but what i presented to the world did!

Anyone who says that learning Game is basically acting or pretending to be someone you’re not simply hasn’t grasped how to effectively use it, and how to actualize their full potential.

I am still the exact same person i was 20 years ago. I am a geek. I love Transformers. I would play Dungeons and Dragons if i had the time and friends. I love technology. None of that has changed. But you would never imagine the night and day difference between me then and me now if you saw me next to my 20 year old beta shmuck self. And now that it has become a part of me and who i am, (and because i chose well in terms of who i partnered up with) it is not a chore, not a burden, not some terrible fate that i must continue to ‘pretend’ or ‘act’ or ‘behave’ in some manner that i will eventually get tired of or slip up and revert to beta. Having fully embraced being masculine.. it is not a chore, rather it is something i welcome and enjoy being. I stood in the frame and by golly… i kinda fucking like it here!

What has changed is how i present myself. I don’t make Transformers or video games the epicenter of my life like 20 years ago I’m not the bashful non-confident nerd of 15 years ago. I’m not the quiet meek voice of 10 years ago. I’m not the posture of a doormat i was 5 years ago. . everything about who i am now is having put into practice reclaiming my masculinity, and working hard to create real value in myself so my confidence in myself is also real and not just ‘acting’ or a parlor trick.

I simply upped my Game.

 

Let the Free Market Decide – No Subsidies

Toronto. We’re all melting here. I fucking hate heat waves.

The sun is out, it’s sweltering, you head into the convenience store and open the mini freezer to pick out an ice cream bar. Two items catch your eye. They both look identical.

Both sell for $3.99 (damn rippoff if you ask me).

So on the surface we see two delectable items that have the same investment cost, but we drill down a little deeper.

One is sold by Haagendaz, a company well renowned by connoisseurs of the sweet stuff. Known for their rich and creamy goods being of only the finest quality, even if fattening.. it’s the indulgence factor. Just ask Lindy West. We know what we’re getting here by the ingredients. Pure cream, sugar, caramel, chocolate coating and a sprinkle of nuts.

The other is sold by the Acme Biohazard Disposal Company. It comes in a plain plastic wrapper with a biohazard logo on it. It lists as it’s main ingredients seagull shit, diarrhea, aged semen and fever blister pus sprinkled with assorted abscess particles.

Seriously… at what point are you even going to entertain spending your money on a donkey diarrhea bar?

Adaption

Quick post and a test of creating a post from my Google Nexus 7 WordPress app.

Was working the bench press last night with my friend and probably tried to push out one too many reps. Form went south and was arching my back a little too much, cheating to get the last ones up. I knew I was going to pay for it.

This morning I was sore but didn’t think anything of it. I’ve been sore before. So i went of to play some hardcore Olympic level table tennis with the Zen master.. A man twice my age and impossibly full of energy reserves mere mortals don’t have. He’s a terminator.. I’m positive of this.

He’s mentoring a young kid into ping pong, and today he and his father were there to watch the two of us have an epic battle.

2nd game in, my back had other ideas. I felt it, that split second where you know if you finished the motion, you’d be on the ground and need to be carried home. I stopped just short. I wasn’t down for the count but I knew I was fucked. I couldn’t stand tall, I couldn’t run from left to right, I couldn’t put any pressure on my back.

2 games in. Fuck. This would be a huge letdown for the father and son. I looked at Zen master and meekly grimaced, stood up slowly and said I had pulled something, but wasn’t going to use it as an excuse, to hit me with all he had. The kid came to see a war, wasn’t about to give him less.

The first few matches were a joke as I tried to figure a way to counter his shots and go for kill shots of my own. Without my prior range or mobility he was tearing me apart. But with each game I was forced to examine patterns, rely more on spin and accuracy, and most importantly, just get the ball to his side of the table and force him to make an error.

While he kept beating me, they weren’t resounding victories. I kept pace. I stated returning shots to the corners forcing him to bounce from end to end, thus keeping me in the center. I stopped using crazy spins on the serve and lobed them to just barely clear the net, forcing him to lob the returns high into the air giving me the advantage to make him start running left to right or just to smash it back down with a killer backhand which does not require back strength.

By the end I still only ended up winning about 4 games of 20… And lost our best of nine series ender 5 to 3. But they were all close games, half going into overtime where you need to win by 2 points.

Adapt. It’s what we do when we encounter change. The world is always changing, always evolving, sometimes for good, sometimes for ill. It helps us overcome obstacles and be resilient. Ask a paraplegic or someone wearing a prosthetic limb. It’s what you do when faced with a choice of doing something you don’t want to do to proceed forward or do nothing and be left behind.

The kid wanted an Olympic war, and I couldn’t give it to him by doing what worked in the past, so I had to adapt quickly, learn, experiment, grow. And for it we gave him a great show that will encourage him to continue learning the game under Zen master and put a smile on both dad and sons face.

The alternative was doing nothing and driving home.

To anyone who tells you game is smoke and mirrors, what they’re telling you is to go home. Learn game. Adapt. The goalposts have moved and there’s nothing you can do to change that. Learn how to rid yourself of traits that get you disqualified from playing.

You have a choice. Adapt or quit.

Now if you excuse me.. I need to go hobble off to my bed like the hunchback of Notre Dame now and wait for the Advil 500’s to kick in. Nobody said adapting was painless. Nothing worthwhile ever is.

..
Sent from my tablet. You see a spelling mistake, its the tablets fault.

Confessions of a Reformed InCel

[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]

…

[ORIGINAL POST BEGINS]

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>

Why you should work out, Part Deux

So here i am sitting in a puddle of my own sweat drinking a cool down drink to recapture some of my fluids i’ve released all over the floor like a drunken slug.

I can’t stop dripping. It’s unsightly.. think of the senator from X-Men, the one who Magneto irradiates and his genes get messed up. Just before he dies he turns into a big body sack of water before he simply pops and drains away.

Just keep pushing play!

That’s me, right now.

The city is in a record heat wave. I picked the worst day in the world to do Plyometrics, or PlyoX as it’s affectionately known as.

“PLYO X…  I HATE IT, BUT I LOVE IT!”
-Tony Horton

Not too long ago i wrote about why you should start working out, at least from my own perspective and life’s experience, yours may differ. But something happened today that i thought i’d share which is another reason to start working out.

At work today, a coworker bought a 4 pack of some delicious looking ‘Drumstick‘ ice cream cones. Strawberry Cheesecake flavor with ‘Extra fudge‘ in the cone. Man it looked sweet, specially on a putrid 35 C degree day. Since i swore off sugar and excess fat this should have been easy.. but even i turned the box over to read it’s (and i use the term loosely) ‘nutritional‘ contents. Even my mind was starting to rationalize letting me eat one.

Per Drumstick
Calories: 210
Fat: 8 grams
Sugar: 23 grams

On the surface, this isn’t the worst possible snack. And considering the heat, and the overall super low volume of junk i consume, i could very well have justified it. Even all my colleagues were egging me on saying one wouldn’t kill me or stop my progress. And they’re right. One won’t.

But one can so easily and quickly devolve into two, then four, then a few, and so on. Every slippery slope starts with one, especially when there’s peer pressure involved.

I politely declined and that was the end of it. Then my one colleague who is also working hard to lose weight, who also turned down the drumstick looked at me and said:

Power means walking away, not crawling

Quick post here, just ran my last encounter with the failed FWB through my head and realized what i did and why i’m proud of myself.

.

I did what her previous guy did not.

I walked away on my terms, for my interests and made no compromise.

.

When she first showed signs that she was calling it quits and that their relationship was toast, he ramped up his neediness, he put the texting into overdrive, he would call or drop by often to ‘talk’, to try and convince her they should still be together.

If you have to ‘convince‘ someone to be with you.. no surrender, no retreat…

No one should have to be convinced to want to be with the awesomeness that you are. If you have it all and nothing to prove, and she’s seen it all and still can’t come to the logical conclusion that you’re perfect…

I liked her. I would have loved to continue pursuing a FWB situation with her. Still wanted to treat her to things, take her out alpha style, nurture her girly side beta style, and get her flowers for the hell of it once in a blue moon omega style. But i wasn’t going to beg her or try to convince her that it was in her best interest to do so. Hell, she still hadn’t done enough to qualify to me that she was worth it, but i put the bait out there if she wanted to aspire to become more than who she was and become part of something greater.

She made her choice.

Aspire to better than who you are

One more notch on the self improvement checklist, this morning i went into my orthodontist office and i got grilled!

An adventure 20 years in the making, i’m finally doing something that i have so many regrets over not having done a lifetime ago. Straightening out my big book of British Smiles.

In my earlier post on Why You Should Work Out, i lamented that my body image was a great factor in my lack of confidence and self respect. So too can i say about my smile.

Ever since i was 15 when i first noticed shifting, i have learned every which way to conceal the contortions in my mouth. I never smiled, only smirked from one side of my mouth. I’ve never had a bellowing to the sky tilting your head back laugh in public. I always followed peoples eyes to see if they noticed something out of place. I learned how to position my head when speaking to people to always give them the best angle possible to not see anything i didn’t want them to see.

I had the chance to get braces right from the beginning. My mother had the insurance to cover it and told me i should do it.

“But no girl will want to kiss me with braces on.”

The stupidity of that comment and the irony of it have haunted me to this day.

I spent the next 15 years having to endure the same thought in my head, except i wasn’t wearing braces. The comment morphed into no girl will want to kiss/be around/fuck/etc.. with me with wildly crooked teeth.

Yes, we men now face the oppression of objectification as well. This is what women want.

not this

Just for the record, that’s not me in the second pic.