I hate reading peoples opinion pieces on dating, sex, relationships or just the overview of the Sexual Marketplace (SMP) for the same reason I hate reading opinion pieces on most things: they are aimed at people with no real world experience and thus focus on abstract and dubious statistics, force fed to illustrate a manufactured pain point which funnels people into whatever particular subscription based community the author is selling. Worse yet, some do it for the love of the game.

I’ll give two points and two potential outcomes. I don’t have a prescription at the end, which so many people are prone to do. I do this because I’m not trying to interject my intelligence or talent into the conversation. I’m not a narcissist and this isn’t about me. I fully believe I’m almost alone in doing that. It’s anti branding and bullshit free. A refreshing change. It’s your job to figure out how to navigate things. You are the one who will have to decide on what you want and what you’re willing to sacrifice to get it. If you want a cult, I’m sure Tate or Sara Stock are more than happy to tell you what to d.

I won’t point to a statistic or a study or a video or someone else’s essay that points to statistics or studies or videos either. You will have to use your head and personal experience to judge whether it’s relevant or not. This is how we’ve always done things in our space. There’s a few reasons for this. The egg heads creating objective consensus are in either a competence and replication crisis (best case) or willful propaganda against knowing what’s true (worst case)

They why of what they are doing doesn’t matter. Will it help you to know it’s a simple greedy institution full of greedy bastards looking to make a buck off your attention (which is mostly gained through fear, anger and outrage?) or people working their ass off to justify their continued economic irrelevance?

Not really. You don’t need to know how the car is built to know how to drive and where other people are directing you. Why becomes an irrelevant question of navel gazing and hoping that the swiss watch of the world is knowable if you can identify every gear and spring. You’ll never understand the world, and it’s okay. Let it go.

The first point is that women prefer older men than their younger selves. Doesn’t matter how hot or successful you are at twenty three. The hot and distinguished and successful guy who turns thirty five will always be hotter. Look at your experience. Did the you, post divorce, end up fucking younger and more pliable women than the young and single you? I’ve yet to meet or hear from a man who said otherwise. Maybe you’re still a young man and unsure whether I’m right or not. you are susceptible to the SCIENCE! of statistics and bullshit.

The second point is that men prefer younger women to their older selves. Doesn’t matter how big her tits are or how good her head game is at thirty five. The younger and less accomplished version of that woman at 23 is always hotter. Look at your experience. Did you, post divorce, look at your ex wife and think if you met her today you’d have tried as hard as you did when she was the young tart with a love of tequila and dick? The only men I hear otherwise from tend to be guys who find that it’s too much effort to score younger and learn to like what they can get. Maybe you’re an older woman and embittered that I dare suggest such a thing. You too are susceptible to the SCIENCE! of statistics and bullshit.

Where Demographics Matter

The second point is about demographics.

In a growing population, there are more young people than old. Older men have more options while women have less options. Since hot, distinguished, charming and accomplished men are the bottleneck, younger men have more options. Women will learn to like what’s available. Getting a young man and riding that lottery ticket into his peak isn’t a bad deal.

In a shrinking population, there are more older people than young. Older men have less options while women have less chances to settle for that lottery ticket of a young man. The older fellas are fighting for a smaller pie and outshine the younger men. The competition for women just gets harder, full stop.

You don’t need a statistic to see this. Take a plane to Vegas, or to see your family, or to Mexico for a week, wherever. The airport is silver haired and slow. Check out a concert, or a resto or a baseball game or wherever general demographic events you have. The audience and fans are older and greyer. You don’t need statistics, you need eyes and to be engaged with the world.

So with a larger amount of older men than there are younger women (compared to say, the demographics twenty years ago) peak men have become the bottleneck. Everything you see is downstream of demographics. Women whoa are fighting for a peak man bonanza have less women to compete with and more men for the taking. It’s never been easier for men to get laid. Younger men get increasingly poor attitudes from women.

That’s demographics when they matter. Tons of statistics are out there explaining it away by avoiding the simple laws of supply and demand. They work very hard and are increasingly convoluted and abstract. It takes a lot of work to ignore the obvious after all.

Ignore the Why, focus on the What, then the How

If it helps you sleep at night, blame feminism or the Jews or liberals or something. The boogeyman that’s screwing up your chances of love, romance, and sex are irrelevant. Whatever They you are referring to aren’t doing anything to spite you anyways. Raindrops make a puddle which make a flood and no ones responsible and no one gave a second thought to the poor bastard who gets caught up in the madness.

The why is a waste of effort. Instead, the What you do about it and the How you accomplish the what are more pressing matters. There’s a lot of people fucking up their lives, or succeeding marvelously and offering you some insight into potential whats. Expats (passport bros) or Traditional Conservatives or branding Instagram fellas or dating app aficionados or status quo, meeting girls at college etc. etc. etc.

Just watch and learn. Sure, everyone lies and pretends that they made the best choices, have a bucket on their head and it is full of the best wives, the best pussy and the best family in the world and will demand you put it on your head also.

You can ignore that. Just let them talk. It only took me five years to see how to brand myself for my online business for example. I watched the (and you won’t know these names) Anthony Johnsons, Jon Anthony’s, Donovan Sharpes, Stirling Coopers, Rich Coopers, Rollo Tomassis and Roosh V’s and MLD Jon’s and Roissy’s and Roman McClays of the world wear their buckets and I can see where they are today.

And so can you.

Out of all their bravado and bragging and bravado, it’s become very clear who has succeeded with their bucket and who has not. Some of these guys are killing it. Others are doing okay. More are doing horribly and a few have died from their own bullshit. That’s better field work than you can get from a billion dollar statistic and a million dollar influencer peddling thousand dollar solutions for hundred dollar pussy.

Parallel education

And parallel information is just as good. On the branding examples, I may not have a long term idea of what it’s like for Red Pilled influencers economically. There are industries that have similar traits that do. The fashion industry, weight loss industry are great examples.

The fashion industry has no IP protections. Zara is a multi billion dollar company because of that. They can steal the latest fashion and pump out carbon copies without consequence. Same as how I can write the most amazing books on developing Frame and using Dread in a lackluster marriage, only to see a hundred carbon copies spring up tomorrow. Just like my space, the fashion industry is a soccer game with six year olds, where someone kicks a ball (hits a major success) only to have the crowd rush and swarm it. What do you do?

Fat loss industries have no gatekeeping at all. There’s no BAR exam, no consequence for peddling bullshit. You can sell industrial chemicals and Chinese peptides and whether they work or don’t work, fuck up your liver or not, they keep chugging along. What do you do?

For me, I take the idea of innovation from the fashion industry. They come out with new things all the time. Most don’t last, but some do. Being a year ahead of the competition at all times means you get the lions share of new trends. So I am always working on something new and different. Someone can absolutely rip off Frame, but they can’t keep up. I work for a living, and they can only do as well as I did last year.

I also take the idea of reputation from the fat loss industry. Selling you snake oil only works if you’re greedy, selfish, or both. There’s expensive industries that make money by building the trust of people and not betraying that trust. Lipo clinics and plastic surgeons and fitness coaches who do well have loyal, high paid clientele and word of mouth advertising. They brand it as luxury. They don’t sell you the fat loss, they sell the exclusivity. So I do my best to ensure when I run my mouth, fans will trust it. In the short term it turns down pennies in hopes of hitting dollars in the future.

You see my bucket. God knows I write enough about it. You can judge for yourselves. I’m just another data point, same as all the people I named. Apply that same idea to your sexlife. How does one carve out some whamen in a sellers market?

Since you followed this far. Check out what a decade of observation and experience can deliver.

Frame

Dread

Some thoughts I’ve learned along the way. Writing fiction is way better than explaining a concept to people. It’s more difficult to think than it is to digest though. Before the Internet, there was TV, before TV, there was books. And before books there was IRL audiobooks; some dude in front of a campfire just saying things.

I am rambling, but the point is we learn in stories. The entire Red Pilled space knows that. Everyone who had field reports were valuable, but the stuff that has endured has been the theory posts. They aren’t the best stories, but they are stories. And the human brain thinks in stories. I refer to it as mental models, or modeling the world based on story.

Which makes sense. A story is a very compact piece of information. A character says something, makes a certain gesture, and the information it conveys can be staggering. Dad lowers his newspaper and raises an eyebrow to misbehaving kids and they instantly understand what’s being said and what’s going on.

And when writing this new work, working title The Road Trip, I find my process is solidifying. 8 books and 3 fictional works in, and things are starting to feel properly done now.

I’m sending you an excerpt from the first pass in a later section. Whet your apatite and show you some of the process. In Fuccfiles back in 2020 I wrote about how I enjoyed seeing Bill Bur’s show, live when I lived in Montreal. He would come out with a special 6 months later and I enjoyed watching it again to see how it refined and honed the jokes, what stayed in and what was taken out etc.

I’m expecting that same level of interest from you over seeing the red pill crafting stories that are way better than Marvel slop that you’re forced to watch nowadays.

The premise was simple, article Are You Experienced?

An essay about women getting angry that men, who are otherwise well employed, are spending their money on useless adventures and their own ends than using it to fund every woman’s dream of nailing the landing and getting a man to fund her motherhood plans. It references some New Republic piece on male adolescence

But it all explains things, and guys are great at having things explained to them, and keeping them detached from their actual experiences. This I think is where storytelling helps.

What does delayed adolescence look like in a man? What does the boss bitch equivalent look like to a woman? I see it as polar opposites. Men who are selfless, but ultimately jealous and adventurous. Women as selfish, but unjealous (abundance) and opportunists.

So with that, you have two characters. I don’t have names yet so I’m calling them Rex and Kate, holdovers from the Dog Walker. I don’t want it to be a sequel, as I don’t need the character arcs in that book to taint the ideas of this one, but I want the names to have a symbolic connection to the themes here. It’s something I do fairly well and aim to keep doing: have all the symbols and dialogue and actions reinforce the themes of the book. If everything points in the same direction than everyone gets to enjoy a coherent work.

Because I know I’ve read, watched, and listened to stories that haven’t done this. Things just feel off. Characters are nonsensical and things seem added simply to increase run time instead of help me understand and enjoy a journey.

So in a Gulliver’s Travels type story, I’m setting up a series of vignettes where the Bros Before Homes Delayed Adolescence of man meets the selfish opportunism of women, to see how they interact, and ultimately, shed their deficiencies and end up happier.;

Yes, the cyberpunk guy also writes happy endings.

In the first pass it’s like a rough comedy stand up session. The plot moves along, the characters make decisions, and the ideas are the anchor. What do they talk about? Well, are they establishing their arc, in the process of learning their needs, hitting a wall that forces them to grow, or finding their new equilibrium? Each one can have the same character react wildly different while still being the same character to you.

That’s why I’ve always had three passes of the work. The first one is to get everything down. The second is to understand what the characters and the story are saying, and the third pass is to polish up everything that reinforces the message.

The Road Trip: Is anything working?

“El Castillo de Arena.” She said in her perfect accented Spanish.

“What does that mean?”

“It’s a sand castle!” I grabbed our bags and walked towards the beach. A row of Tiki huts lined the shore, painted bright. I looked around and the beach looked more like a construction site in the desert. Piles of thatch and bamboo for some reason, along with stones, similarly colored to the mountains on the horizon. I placed everything onto a lounge chair be Hut 7 and met Kate at the main cabin by the parking lot where she was confirming our reservation.

Kate was talking to the concierge, a middle aged Spanish woman with a Canadian accent. “Oh, I used to come here all the time as a kid. My parents loved it.”

“My husband was the same. That’s why he bought a whole bunch of coastline. You got here just before the grand opening. We are looking to have suites all down the coast so you can live right by the ocean.”

“Oh that sounds cool.” Kate handed over my VISA. The lady placed it with some carbon papers and swiped it in an old machine.

“We don’t have Wi-Fi yet. You’re still in the middle of nowhere.” I looked at my phone and saw

No Signal

“So what happens if something goes wrong?”

“I guess we just have to put you in a car and drive you to La Paz?” I chime in.

“That was 3 hours away. Do you guys have at least a first aid kid or something?” All of a sudden the lady looked like she didn’t understand English.

“Oh Rex, don’t worry. It’s the beach, what could happen?” Kate pet her hand onto my chest to reassure me. “There’s like one rock on the beach, the sand is shallow all the way out, and there’s no sharks or anything. We’d have to try really hard and extremely stupid to hurt ourselves.”

“If you say so. I’d still feel better if we had some …”

Kate interrupted, “so where is the boat rentals?”

“We don’t have those yet”

“Okay, what about wind surfing?”

“We don’t have those yet either.”

“And the bar? That’s at least open, right?”

“Pretty much,” she said, almost proud of having something that works. “We don’t have the full bar yet, Tecate has the final deliveries scheduled on the weekend, but we have enough. Sort of. The restaurant is up and running though.”

I whispered into Kates ear, “That’s a very evasive way to say it, don’t you think?”

“Shut up Rex. Thank you…”

The girl hands Kate my card “Llorona. Enjoy your stay.”

“Thank you, Llorona. Rex, lets grab some food.”

Llorona is a mexican ghost, like a harbinger of death. Can be taken either way, and she lives near the water

Roissy wrote an essay called The Limits of Game back in 2007.

I remember being a young, fresh faced sailor back then. Twenty years ago. Twenty years! This was in my prime sport fucking years, and it was the only game in town to have a good chuckle about whamen, or some pithy aphorisms that resonated with my own sexlife. We all had Return of Kings, Rational Male, or Chateau Heartiste, that’s it. People are spoiled for choice, but also starving for quality in 2026. Your choices are now between a Sudanese migrant bitching about black women like he read about them in a book, or a K Pop inspired swamp Chad who may or may not be playing gay for pay in his waning social media popularity, or a racially ambiguous global citizen playing Catch Me If You Can: the home game.

Hint: He and his twin brother got caught.

I’ve written about the Limits of Game before. The gist is that game is a force amplifier, more effective than money and attractiveness, but there’s a shelf life. It’s longer than a woman’s peak years, but it exists. And the more guys try to quantify the grey area of sex, the more autists inflate the numbers to scare guys into being their online friends and revenue streams. Typical of men at the tail end of the bell curve, they would rather drown the men attempting to save them from the seas than learn how to swim.

In this weeks case study, I’m reminded of the singular problem in this Red Pill space. The problem? A regression to the mean. One of the best critiques I’ve seen from the peanut gallery against this space was the admission that all of the game and frame material here is meant for the average guy who wants to be better, and not for the clueless, hopeless, or retarded to carve out their Bugatti harem. The more popular the space became, the more it regressed to the mean, the more the inflationary autist saw the tail end of the bell curve as a cash cow of hopelessness.

And I see it happening in a slow moving steam roller. The more I want a series of field reports of guys overcoming the worse, the further back I have to go. The more I want cautionary tales, the more recent I can be. The material didn’t get worse, men haven’t gotten worse, things just got popular. It’s a good problem to have, but it’s a problem. It vindicates my strategy of aggregating and archiving everything from the past so it isn’t lost in the annals of time, or the anus of the Dead Internet Theory, depending on your perspective.

Any marketing expert worth his weight in salt will sell you on this space being the panacea of everything from Liberalism to Loserdom, from celibacy to currency, or from malaise to momzillas. It’s all made up horseshit. I know this because I need the horseshit to sell the useful stuff as well. I scrubbed toilets as a sailor in the RCN, which allowed me to circumnavigate the globe, and so I can scrub toilets here.

The takeaway for you, dear reader? You might just be the tail end of the bell curve, the cash cow for guys who can’t make their fortune in a more reputable trade, like drug dealing or pirated DVD sales. Thankfully all hope isn’t lost. I can entertain you while you subsidize the guys who are worth a damn and have the potential to use this material so they don’t have to pay thousands of dollars. So there’s no hate in my heart when I say this, but good men stand will on the shoulders of giants, and there’s a small nobility in being the shoulder.

This Billy is a guy with pseudonym Mean Physics. A 6 foot tall 200 pound man with an 8 year marriage and 2 kids under 5. He was angry with his wife, mostly for being held hostage by her fickle emotional state (read: Type 2 Captain) lackluster sex life and a general malaise.

The reason I chose him is because the Billy’s like this focus on what matters, and not on avoiding it. Call it toxic shame (Glover, No More Mr Nice Guy) or avoidance, it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t focus on the ‘after the sex, then what?’ because he knows that’s a tomorrow problem, when he needs to use today solutions. It’s almost boring in it’s honesty and efficiency.

But First, the aggregation of the information that I’m referring to.

Frame

Dread

Billy, Year 2

Stats: 37yo, 6’1”, 194lbs, 14%bf. Married 8 yrs, together 12. 2 kids, 5 & 3. Bench 300, OHP 170, Squat 295. I’ve read: Rational Male, NMMNG, MMSLP, WISNFG, Book of Pook, Models, Bang, Day Bang

I swallowed the pill 22 months ago. First OYS. I figured I could do it on my own, but haven’t gotten the results I need.

Read more

The Road Trip keeps chugging along. A story about a couple who hook up at a bondage party and decide to take a road trip down to the tip of the Baja as a Gulliver’s Travels meets Coming of Age meets Red Pill allegory. A spiritual successor to the Dog Walker, which is a hero’s journey for a sexlife and sabotage. Colleen Hoover ain’t got shit on me.

*

In every book I try to hone more skills in writing that I didn’t have before. It’s better from a business perspective to get a niche and stick to it: giving readers a consistent set of expectations, like McDonalds, but for fine literature. I’ve made a decent living and solid career so far by not being bound by my own successes, as small as they are in the grand scheme of things. Why change that now?

The first, and most important rule I have learned is the triangle of storytelling. Dialogue, Actions, Exposition. They are the logos, pathos and ethos of writing things down in my opinion. All dialogue gives you a movie script. All action gives you a fanfiction schlock, and all exposition gives you an essay written from a soapbox at the top of the mont. In the same way logos is the least persuasive version of rhetoric, I find exposition to be the lease persuasive form of writing.

Someone said show, don’t tell. And from the little bit of reading I do, I agree. There’s some writers who write some pretty good prose. Just reading the exposition is enjoyment in and of itself. TheLastPsychitrist/Edward Teach is my goto example of that. Having said that, when I read Sadly, Porn … The one part that stuck with me is the chapter of cuck porn he stuck in the beginning to make a point about how we don’t control our sexual proclivities as much as we think we do.

I didn’t realize he had switched to action and dialogue until I was literally balls deep in the fiancée justifying her affair, mid pump. I’ve been there before as the guy doing the pumping, and it resonated with my experience. I wrote about it in the Rose chapter of Dog Walker, but Teach whooped my ass with his prose. I can admit when I’m beat. I don’t remember much about his breakdowns of Greek tragedy and other exposition laden chapters.

Frankly, it was hot, and that made me angry. It was a great way to show me what he was talking about that worked a hell of a lot better than 80% of the rest of the book that was telling me.

And I’ve used that idea to influence this new book

So in a book about driving in a car, there’s not a lot of opportunity for actions. Some small facial gestures, sure. Symbols, like a Limp Bizkit CD, the AC in the car, a sun baked hood etc. Dialogue is doing the heavy lifting. Which is a fun challenge, and I think it will be rewarding to the reader. I’m betting on it anyways.

The premise is simple enough: a man who is selfless in relationships but jealous (read: man raised as defective woman) and the girl is selfish in relationships but not jealous (read: woman raised to be the man she wanted to marry) and so each conversation needs to reflect that. As the story progresses, their conversations and interactions need to show the change into man and woman proper. Where they are and what they are doing is a hamburger bun: the vessel that delivers the meat.

So as an end reader, I expect you’ll get your cuck porn chapter experience, if I’ve done my job properly. My job in this case is having an editor that’s better than me at making sure the vision and the execution have as small a gap as possible. Here’s a small excerpt from the first chapters, the gimmick being both characters having the same story in parallel. This is the girls perspective.

(I have placeholder names of Rex and Kate for now. I don’t have good names chosen yet, but it’s not the same people from Dog Walker)

Road Trip: 3AM, WYD?

It’s like we have always been soulmates.

“Wait. Where are you?”

“Vancouver, on the Quay.”

“And you’re on a date?”

“No. I left. The guy was an asshole, tried to pay me to date him. He’s a rich kid. Remember that band that did that song, Working for the Weekend, Bah, bah… Something like that.”

“BTO?”

“I don’t know. But it’s his kid.”

Rex wouldn’t even buy me a drink. He barely remembers my birthday, says he’s sailing half the time and just disappears for weeks. I bought him a nice set of Whiskey glasses, and I think one time, he bought me some Skittles for my birthday. I don’t even like Skittles.

“Sucks, babe. Hey. You’re gonna love this then.”

“Love what?”

“I’m in Vancouver also.”

“Wait, you’re here in town?”

“Yeah. We are here for the weekend. My friend is taking me to some party in East Hastings, you’re not far then if you’re on the quay. Come on down. I just ditched my date.”

“You had a a date?”

“Long story. Some chick I met at Matt’s bachelor party. Anyways, she was doing a lot of coke and wanted me to score her some pills. Last thing I need is to get a court martial for some stripper so I left.”

“Look at you, a stripper.”

“Yeah. I thought it would be cooler before. It’s more a pain in the ass than anything.”

“I could have told you that.” Man. I knew he would have been hot enough to date a stripper. They are just do thin. Sometimes I wonder what he even sees in me. Least he’s not paying for it.

“What, you used to be a stripper?” Tee hee. I can hear him getting excited over me. Guys are so predictable.

“No, you dumbass.”

“Well, you got the look for one.”

“I do not.”

“Sure you do. Long hair, giant tits, nice legs. All you need is a coke habit and you’re set.”

“Oh stop.” I bet he can hear me smiling through the phone. Ever since he did that cube thing he’s always been able to read my mind.

“Seriously, come down. We are leaving in an hour.”

And so I salvaged the worst weekend of my life by being invited to a party in … East Hastings?

As I pulled up to the dockyard, I saw Rex standing on a bollard by his ship. He looked dapper. His hair was always short and clean. I love him in that white dress shirt with jeans. I hop out of my Honda Civic and look great. I wore this same skort on our first date. He even got the Tomato sauce out of it when I dropped it in my dinner. That other guy must have been his friend.

“So hey. Are you sure you wanna go to East Hastings?”

“Why, what’s the matter?”

“It’s like, the most dangerous part of the city.”

“Oh whatever. Just stick around, I’ll handle it.”

I parked the car and held onto him while we started walking past the junkies and the homeless. I couldn’t help but look. Each one of them could have a knife, or a gun or something. Rex didn’t seem to care. He didn’t even turn his head. He and his friend were just talking about the stuff they were doing at work.

“So what kind of party is this?” I asked his friend.

“Bondage party.” It was hard to make out with his thick French accent.

“A what? Cool.”

Subscribe for more on the process, excerpts, and eventually, a banger story that resonates … cuck

Women have monopolized contemporary fiction for long enough. Stand aside. Let a man handle it from here.

A man makes a promise to his mother to never act like his asshole stepfather, and it almost ruined his sexlife. A sailor who finds redemption and self actualization in post nut clarity. You’ll go from hating him, pitying him, to rooting for him.

In a red pilled world, we all have to grow up sometime.

Dog Walker

I joke around and act flippant on social media about men who are working on having better relationships. It’s good entertainment and humor cuts to the core better than long winded soapbox sermons. However, I do take it seriously in my work, as for every collection of guys who flop around like fish, there’s one with real pain, real work, and real success; and I define success by the mans own terms, not mine or some universal standard (which doesn’t exist anyways.)

The man’s pseudonym was Persaeus, but I’ll call him Billy, short for Beta Billy, or the antithesis of Chad. This particular field report was from 2014, and it’s one of the hundreds I studied in order to deliver my first two Praxeology books, Frame and Dread. If you’ve read them, you’ll recognize a lot of the concepts in both books. When Billy screwed up you’ll see it in contrast to the Tetrahedron of Frame, or Active and Passive Dread, because these were the guys who made all the mistakes one can make which gave the next generation of guys, myself included, the information they needed (the Intellectual Pillar) to stop making mistakes in their own lives.

Good men can learn from their experience. Great men learn from others experience.

And he wouldn’t have gotten where he is without the experience of others to draw on. I’ve seen what happens when guys don’t have guidance like that. My own step father was one. When his life got hard, and it was entirely self inflicted, he didn’t have anyone, and so he defaulted to his instincts. Guys instincts don’t work in the modern world, in fact, they make things worse. His life got incredibly worse. Billy was better, he ended up having cycles of success and failure. I’ll get to his summary field report in a bit, but first.

Ghost of Odessa

Softbone

Cycles of Failure and the Degradation of Trust.

Guys will hit hard times, that’s life. They may be in a relationship with a good woman. When hard times hit, they also default to their instincts. Women’s default is to look for a Monkey Branch. They may hold onto the hope their man recovers longer than some, or less than others, but eventually they will all look out for themselves, and in extension, their children.

Evolutionarily, we are all functionally cavemen with cellphones and Birkenstocks. Women don’t have the strength to hunt or defend against aggressors, so they solve these problems differently. And like the monkeys that the reference refers to, they look for a soft landing before leaving.

This isn’t about that. Most guys can figure things out, eventually. The current divorce rate is hovering around a third; a third of marriages don’t make a decade. This is good news, it used to be half. This is also bad news, since the difference is largely that people don’t even bother getting married (and rightfully so.) This means that two thirds get it sorted out. Sure, it’s half of men relegated to loveless and sexless marriages of habit, but if it’s longevity you’re after, it counts as a win.

Billy didn’t want that. Most men with self respect don’t either. Why live in a comfortable misery? So they do things and get results. It creates something I call the degraded cycle of trust. The first time he gets his act together, the wife comes back to sanity and things move on. But a little bit of trust is gone. And the more cycles a guy has of failure, the stronger the feeling of ‘is this real this time, or is it like last time?’ becomes.

It means every time things get bad it gets harder to get back to normal. Ideally, I would love it if guys read the notes from every Billy out there, and only makes their mistakes once, but we didn’t have notes to share for a long time. Even now, the material in the Red Pill is dwarfed by pop-sci self help pablim like 12 Rules for Life. As a result, I have a ton of research to work with.

Men may succeed in their own individual way, but they fail in similar ways.

You’ll read about small failures, like Billy not being able to see future behavior from past behavior. His wife ditched a six year relationship after two months and expected he wouldn’t get the same e.g. he will double down on his comfort while ignoring the problems. Working more to provide more for his family, and avoid being present, which causes … problems e.g.

There’s more in there. Part of the value in reading this is discovering them for yourself.

It’s easy to see the fault in other guys actions than your own. Ones ego is too close to the situation to be objective, makes excuses, ignores things; The best we can do is practice the repetition of seeing the patterns and writing them down in our own lives. That delay between writing our problems down then reading them later gives some distance.

The other benefit is in seeing resolutions. It’s a skill I picked up in my time in the Royal Canadian Navy. Courses, preliminaries, deployments, sailing schedules … they can get rather grueling. The one skill that helped me and others get through them is to see that it’s all been done before. You’ll see people stupider and weaker and drunker than you get through them, which gives you the confidence to get through them. Psychologically, it’s much easier to accept short to medium term pain if you know what comes out the other end.

It’s the light at the end of the tunnel. In Billy’s case, he’s still with her, they are still having sex on the regular, and he has broken free from the cycle of failure and the degradation of trust.

And if you can learn nothing else from this, you can learn that these toxic cycles are born from easily observable behaviors, so long as you can take your ego out of the equation.

These are the Emotional Pillars of Frame. The human failings that make our lives harder than they need to be, the instincts that work against us. Like failing vestiges of a hunter-gatherer brain in modern times, we have to learn when our feelings are hurting us and let our frontal lobe take on the heavy lifting. It’s hard, our brains fight us to maintain the status who (ego) and we often have to sidestep the issue and attack it from a sideways angle.

I refer to Killology in Frame, where military research in the World Wars got around our instincts against killing in order to become a more effective fighting force. If these skills help us in combat, they can help us in the bedroom.

This is why the Red Pill space involves a lot of stories, which we call Mental Models. Narrative structures, that while mostly factual and accurate, don’t shy away from using parable in order to get us acting in the right way. It’s a joke I’ve often used, where if you could tell a man that the moon is made out of cheese and this got a man to hit the gym 3 days a week, then as far as we are concerned, the moon is made of cheese.

In other words, you’re not supposed to take this stuff literally, but you are to take it seriously.

It’s easier to give up

The solution that gets me riled up is castrating activities. Billy will have one in his field report, but I’m still surprised by how many guys take a lackluster relationship, sexlife, fear of losing their kids etc. And resolve to castrate themselves as a solution. It’s not suicide, but it’s in the same stadium as suicide.

Some turn to drugs, alcoholism. In extreme cases you see men ‘transition’ into hideous ham beast looking women who barely pass. 5PM stubble and a wig. They don’t want to abandon their families, but the helplessness causes them to kill their own sexdrive. Instead of a solution, they kill the need. It’s not everyone, but it’s enough people to pay attention. Of course no one really cares about the plight of men. I’m watching a modern day hysteria over a woman who strangled her three children in the news this year, and seeing the outpouring of sympathy for ‘Christine Benoit’ is a good reminder that no one cares if men suffer, and everyone prefers women to men.

It’s also been the best recruitment tool for this space. It takes a certain desperation, a complete surrender to the situation to find the He-Man woman haters club at 3 in the morning and read through the material we have. Everything is counter intuitive, goes against all the social norms we hold, and gets nothing but derision from the first, second, third, and fourth estate.

It’s not as extreme as trooning out, but it’s in the same stadium. And luckily, it’s the one space that has: men who are in dire straights, and, men who don’t want to wallow in their misery together like victims.

So now. Billy. And afterwards, some more analysis and lessons to take home with you.

Billy

I have implemented various components of the red pill praxeology throughout my 25 year marriage; but in am incongruent manner that has proved unfulfilling. The cycles of failure got to the point I considered chemical self-castration coming here.

Me Before Marriage

Frame

Dread

Read more

This is too big so it will be a multi parter

RZD, a good friend of mine, once said that people only learn through pain. They will only do something when it hurts too much not to. I’ve said as much myself. During a convention in Florida that shall not be named, I had another good friend and influencer, Tanner Guzy ask if it was possible for guys to unplug, or red pill, or whatever euphemism you want to use for it, without having been destroyed by a divorce or other hardship. I told him then that our brains aren’t wired to fix the suboptimal, but to scramble after a fight-or-flight level disaster.

And time has proven us both right. As an aficionado of this space, I miss the days when it was full of guys getting actively screwed over, or destroyed financially, romantically, or losing their families. Those guys had real pain, and real pain made them get shit done. I know there’s a lot of you reading this, or have read my work in the past who don’t have a serious pain. Some of you do, but most of you are in a malaise. The girls don’t fuck, the finances don’t grow, the families stagnate, but it’s all … mid.

And I’m not happy about it, but it looks like some of the only advice that would help is to suggest that they need to hit rock bottom before anything I’ve written will make any sense, or result in action on their end. But you can’t sell merch with ‘get fucked and then you can do the work.’ I took on the attitude of being paid for the information, not the results. It’s the only way you can handle seeing an unlimited supply of frustrated and sluggish men who are doing their best to avoid succeeding on their own terms, or even defining what that means.

If it sounds cynical, that’s okay. I was a sailor, a damned good one, and being cynical got me through 13 years for King and country, and it’ll get me through a career, writing about men and their grievances and solutions to them. As for you, you’re either getting value out of me aggregating all of this into more digestible and easily sourced concentration, or you’re subsidizing those who are, and that’s okay. I don’t know how I did it, but making people who won’t do anything help those who are is a real benefit that didn’t exist before.

So having said all that, I have a loose collection of thoughts that aren’t strong enough for their own piece, a compilation of things that can add value for you or entertain you while you subsidize those who are working at their thing.

Stop focusing on the proxies

This is the most egregious of problems I see from men. If you broke it down, there’s only a few different reasons men find their way to this space: either they are single and unable to get laid and increasingly frustrated from it, married and equally as celibate, raising young kids with a neurotic wife who is failing at mothering well, or being cheated on or divorced while feeling like their life and worldview is crumbling around them. The problem is, each of those scenarios are embarrassing. A seemingly personal failure that people are so ashamed of that, even when anonymous, have a hard time being honest about.

This space doesn’t have many gatekeeping mechanisms. Rule Zero (be here for sexual strategy or positive male identity,) stay on topic (see Rule Zero,) do you even lift bro(?) and check your ego at the door. It’s a collaborative effort to make, and took nearly a decade to mostly agree on them. The hardest one is shedding ego. Dr. Glover writes about toxic shame in No More Mr. Nice Guy, the agreed upon first and most important book in the cannon of work. Something every man should read and internalize that will pay dividends in every other aspect of this space. Yet it’s the one that holds most guys back.

A guy will write his field report, write down his every want and need and grievance, while burying the most important part of it somewhere in the last three paragraphs in a throwaway line. I’m not saying you need to disclose everything to anonymous people on the internet to take things seriously. I’m saying, that by writing it down, you are making a conscious choice to show what you think is important, how much you prioritize it, and how well you understand your situation. The field report, or the journaling of your grievances with a focus on taking action to remedy them, is the most objective and accurate assessment of your problems and potential that exists. By lying to yourself or creating a proxy issue to hyperfocus on, you’re telling yourself the issue.

I’ve read hundreds, literally hundreds of field reports from guys who have one problem, their wife no longer fucks them, and will write hundreds of words on joining a bowling league, taking their kids out to ice cream, “leading” the family (which really means being Mr. Mom) while throwing a drive by line of being celibate since COVID. It’s like that line from Fight Club,

The only workaround I know of is to give it a day, then read your own work as if you’re an outsider. I say this because guys are very good at spotting the proxy in other people, but horrible at spotting it in themselves. That distance from writer to reader is as close as you can get to developing it yourself. You may think that’s what everyone else reading your field report is for. But it’s not. Everyone else has their own problems. They are mining your report for their own lives, same as you are mining theirs. No one cares about you, no one is taking on your shit for free. The collaboration is a necessary evil, a way to prevent each individual from having to reinvent the wheel when he can read the blueprints from others.

Where one guy is a sex freak but horrible at settling down, another guy is the exact opposite. Each mans problem is the other mans solution, so they steal from each other.

Don’t Impress the Internet

Not much is worse than replacing the deification of one woman (or women in general) with the deification of a random internet space. The Red Pill doesn’t have a cuck chair, even if you are hell bent on sitting in one. There’s a fair amount of guys who love the attention. They write to build an audience. They wear their sexual hang-ups and toxic shame like a megaphone. They write to the audience.

Stop doing that.

You’re supposed to write for you, same as you’re supposed to lift for yourself, same as you’re trying to improve your lot, for yourself. Others will read it, women will respond to it, and your sexlife will improve from it, but you can’t pander. It doesn’t work. First, when you pander you’re overtly trying to manipulate people. People don’t like that. No one signed onto being sold a tragic sexlife, or a downtrodden father, or a divorce from a used car salesman. Same as if a woman gets the impression you’re trying to impress her, it not only ceases to impress, but actively repels her.

When you write to the audience you’re subtly, or not so subtly, telling them what they want to hear. Nothing is worse for a mans improvement than to appeal to the worst parts of this space. You’ll pander, you’ll wear your problems like a badge of honor. You’ll withhold the juicy details of your lackluster sexlife as a cliffhanger in hopes of giving a distraction for others.

“Oh good. At least my sexlife isn’t as bad as THAT GUY.” Now he doesn’t do shit. You’re not doing shit. And you’ve officially crabs in a bucket, dragging each other down for a hint of dopamine's or an excuse to do nothing (because it could be worse!) And the longer you hang around these spaces, the easier you can sniff it out. You can just tell when someone is a little too on the nose with their grievances. Not every man has all the problems, all at once. Most of you are about, 80% of where you need to be. That 20% that’s missing feels like the worst problem in the world, and while guys have some overlap with each other, our miseries are unique to us. When you meet a guy who has the worst of it all, he’s either unlucky, or seeking validation. Of course we have something about that. Laws of Power, which I don’t talk about much, and rarely apply to men, fit this perfectly.

The moment you try to fit in with the He Man Woman Haters Club you’ve become part of the problem. A virus that wants to put every man back on the plantation, with an excuse of shared misery that loves company (thanks to Rational Male for the term)

There’s not a lot to work on. Don’t make it bigger than it needs to be

This space has a lot of material. Most of it is repetitive, most of it isn’t very useful. A small sliver is both useful, and an aggregate of the micro lessons in every mans situation. Taken as a whole, the Red Pill space is a well that runs very deep, but not very wide.

Some guys live in poverty, temporary or systemic. Once you have enough money to live independently and not have to worry about your next paycheck, it becomes a number and a question of the lifestyle you want and the tradeoffs you’re going to make for it. Making money for the sake of number going up, without any interest in the tradeoffs or opportunity costs is irrelevant. You may love crypto trading or whatever, but in order to fit in Rule Zero, you only need … enough. How much is enough is a personal choice and prone to change. And there’s only so many ways to sustainably make money, so if you are decent at it, there’s no benefit to hyper fixating on it.

Also. Having enough sex is like having enough air, you only care about it when you don’t have any. Once you sort that out, you can get into BDSM if you like. You can cheat on your wife all you want, you can enjoy prostitutes or whatever you want. Getting enough sex so that you don’t fixate on sex is as far as we go. Clear your balls to clear your head so you can focus on what matters now. Maybe you’re really good at new, interesting and enthusiastic strange. Great. Now what?

And the worst are the people who turn it into a political divinity rod for conservatism. It happened so much that I have a collection longer than my arm of guys writing about it a decade ago.

There’s a small and devoted group of guys with very slight problems (all things considered) that when they sort them out, become perpetual students. They want to see the new thing, the next thing, they treat this as a horn of plenty and want more. But there’s not anything more. It’s sexual strategy and positive identity. Most of it is about you discovering what you personally want out of life, what you won’t put up with, and navigating the gap. Once you’re there, you may feel the need to study fascism (yes, it happens) or the illuminati, or the GOD, or become a fresh 15 minute Catholic.

I’m not saying not to do these things, I’m saying they are out of scope. And the more that people try to turn this into their personal mental masturaborium, the less space there is for guys solving the real problems that brought you here. Stay on point. This isn’t a surrogate for a friend group, it’s not a self help space, and it’s certainly not a woman haters club. It’s the cast iron of male development. Make something sturdy, make it once, and never buy another one for life.

Save the personal eccentricities for another time and place.

Stop using Jargon

There’s a lot of short hand terms. We need them. It’s a pain in the ass to explain what hypergamy means in a 500 word essay every time you want to talk about female nature so you just say that. You don’t want to explain that most women act on their instincts so you say AWALT. But when you’re laying out your grievances and shedding your ego, jargon gets in the way more than anything.

I mean, you think you know what you’re talking about. Anyone reading it knows what the term means, but it’s too easy to fudge the descriptions. Shit tests were notorious for this. Every guy called everything a shit test when it was really just bratty behavior from the wife. Every fight was a Main event when it was really just a wife being neurotic. The terms mean things, and while it’s easy to say ‘get the descriptions right’ it’s much easier to use your own words, describe your own things, and to avoid jargon all together. Let the guys writing essays for general consumption use the in group language. You’re not here to impress the audience, you’re here to lay out your work.

And having Said all that. When I talked about the motivated guys of the past, here’s one of my peers from 2016. A decade ago. No ego, all report. Even then, I’ve added a random field report of his to show you how easy it is to make the mistakes, even if you were motivated.

Notice how he uses his own language, but adds the Jargon. Judge for yourself if he gets it right. Notice the writing to the audience in his first post and the correction for when he’s just doing field reports. It’s one of the better examples of the best of this place, and it’s still rough.

After a few hundred of these, you understand that guys all make the same mistakes. What I love the most about this one is that Billy put together years of field reports into a single synopsis. a self awareness masterpiece. It’s only the first half here, but it helps illustrate the rest of this essay, but first.

Ghost of Odessa

Softbone

Read more

Every once in a while, some new tradcon cock enters the public eye, and all the recovering betas here cannot forebear relapsing into their old ways and wrapping their lips around it for a good hard suck.

If tradcon shit was the Red Pill, why does the Red Pill exist? Why was this wonderful, perfect tradcon world of justice, health, strength, freedom, and the right way of doing shit so soundly and thoroughly defeated by feminism in a couple of decades?

Why? Because tradcon values are none of these things, they are shit, they always were shit, and it’s very easy for slaves to replace one master with another. Tradcons do not give a shit about your welfare. They are just fighting with feminism over who gets to hold your leash.

When feminism first came along, why the men buy into it?

Because they thought it would free them. They thought that the chains would be struck from their own natural and healthy sexual appetites if only women were “liberated” to be sluts. Why would they have gone for that, if they were already free and happy.

No, tradcons may hate feminism and cultural Marxism, but The enemy of your enemy is not your friend. He is your enemy’s enemy, nothing less and nothing more.

The reason tradcons hate these things is not because they want you to be free, but because those chains get in the way of the ones they want you to wear. Chains like marriage to some ho. Chains like absolutist morality, as sold with the superstitions of a bunch of bronze-age sheep herders, and who gives a fuck whether you are getting anything in exchange for all this righteousness.

They don’t give a fuck about you. They just want you pulling their ideological wagon instead of someone else’s. Tradcons and feminists can fight their little war over whose plan to exploit you for women’s sake is “better”, and you don’t have to be involved. Because if you actually take the Red Pill, instead of just longing for a low-T, shrill, pencilnecked right-wing intellectual to suck up to, then this what you already know:

• You belong to you.

• You exist for you.

• Anyone who wants something from you had better offer you something in exchange, instead of trying to convince you it’s your duty.

• Because every moral system is just some shit somebody sat down and came up with.

• And if you buy into it when it hurts you, you’re a fucking tool.

• If you are still looking for someone to worship, you’re still in beta-male suck-up mode.

• Yes, that includes Jesus. If he loves you so much, why does he never pick up the phone and call?

• Yes, that also includes me and other redpill dudes. We’ll eat your lunch out of the fridge and steal your girl. We’re just not bullshitting you, not because we love you, but because we hate bullshit.

You belong to you. You exist for you.

Never let anyone subvert your primary directive with bullshit.

Frame

Dread

I am wondering why there is so much contempt for {tradcon pundit}. The only difference between {tradcon pundit} and TRP is that {tradcon pundit} thinks current civilization can revert back to traditional values while TRP prefer to enjoy the decline. Not everyone is cynical and nihilistic enough to enjoy the decline while almost every men can benefit from other TRP concepts. Why making so much fuss about guy whose core concepts align with TRP?

I’ve been asked this fair amount... “What the hell do you have against Tradcons, Whisper? Why not stop the decline instead of just learning to prosper within it?”

Since we’ve already had enough ragebait and shit tests to smoke out the cucks among us, we’ll just talk about the answers.

1. Their utopia is not your utopia.

2. They lost the fight, why would you think they’ll win the rematch?

3. Tradconism was destroyed by a non-reversible process.

4. They’re not offering to save society for you. They’re demanding you save it for their kids.

So, to lump it all together, they want you in a fight you can’t win, against a foe you can’t defeat, for a prize you don’t want, in a future you will never live to see.

I’ll give them credit for a nice sales pitch, though.

Their utopia is not your utopia.

The reason that tradcon societies are so economically successful in general is that they hitch the wagon of productivity to the strongest horse there is... the male sex drive. Civilization itself was, after all, built by dudes trying to get laid. If men have to be financially successful to get laid, they have to work hard and be productive. That’s great for society, and great for women... but for you? Are you really that sure you want the price of pussy raised?

How thirsty would you have to be to consider marrying a woman you hadn’t fucked yet? (Especially in a society that expected monogamy of you.)

Remember that Baby Boomer men enthusiastically helped to dismantle the tradcon way of life. If marriage was so great for them, why did they kick over the traces for the vague promise of some hairy free-love snatch?

Which brings us to...

They lost the fight, why would you think they’ll win the rematch?

Tradconism pays lip-service respect to men, rather than insulting them, but remember that it, too, is in service to the female imperative. Instead of helping men to overcome and control their protective instinct towards women, it plays to that instinct, and raises men who are slaves to it.

This is why feminism ate tradcon’s lunch. Feminism is nothing, after all, but a massive exploitation of the male protective instinct. Chivalry-type polkamans will always be weak to girl-type polkamans.

Especially when their victory condition is unattainable because...

Tradconism was destroyed by a non-reversible process.

Nuff said.

They’re not offering to save society for you. They’re demanding you save it for their kids.

Anytime someone comes to you with a plan for society, there is always a price to pay. If they don’t tell you upfront who will pay, and how much it will cost, then the answers are you, and a whole hell of a lot, respectively.

Are tradcons going to smooth the way for you by abolishing alimony and no-fault divorce, banning abortion or legalizing paternal severance, getting young women to marry at 16 before going to college? Are they going to restore fatherhood as a position of respect and veneration? Are they going to take ANY action to eliminate any of the risks and drawbacks of marriage and raising children?

No, they want YOU to do that work starting the crusade yourself. They want you to dive on the grenade so that the next generation of their kids can reap the benefits created by the survivors.

They can’t fix western civilization in time to make a difference in your life. You are going to live the rest of your life in Upside Down Clown World.

What they want is for you to stop trying to make the best of it and start taking a bullet for the same western civilization that abandoned you.

What they promise will happen might sound wonderful to you, if you are thirsty enough to trade your glorious freedom to game sluts for a lifetime of guaranteed starfish sex and nagging... but the tradcon “return to traditional values” is no more a real prospect for improving your existence than the “pie in the sky when die” offered by Christians, or communist’s glorious utopia of the proletariat.

That’s why I’m not telling you a plan, and not recruiting you for a movement. I do not have a glorious vision of hope to sell you. I am not asking for your trust. If I met you in person, I would eat your lunch and steal your girl. I am telling you that you are on your own. The only person with your best interests at heart is you.

Don’t get suckered.

Frame

Dread

By this time, the only men who don’t realize that marriage has mutated into something ugly are the truly stupid, or the delusionally hopeful. Since we are not Captain Save-A-Bro, either, we’re not interested in preaching on streetcorners, trying to save idiots from themselves.

But there is a segment of the more clueful who are still making a serious mistake: They agree that Marriage 2.0 is a trap, but they want Marriage 1.0 back.

I don’t know if it’s too many Jordan Petersen videos, or just a yearning for unicorns that they know they won’t find, but still believe once existed, but these guys want the 1950s back, despite having not been alive then, and only having ever read about that era through its own propaganda, or that of its fat, purple-haired detractors.

There’s a temptation to think that, if only we could defeat the evvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvviiiiiiiiiil feminism, that ruined everything, we could roll the clock back to an era where everything was easy, you could pluck a unicorn off the unicorn tree, and find happiness (at least sexual happiness) without having to think, struggle, build value, or reinvent yourself.

Well, no.

(Oh, here Whisper goes again, having a go at the tradcons yet again. What did they ever do to him? What the hell is his problem with the whole business, anyway?)

It’s time we answered that question once and for all.

There’s two simple reasons:

1. You can’t bring Marriage 1.0 back.
   Neither you, nor the secular tradcons, nor the Jesus freaks, nor all of you together, can resurrect this dead institution. Oh, you could defeat feminism. Feminism isn’t scary. Hell, all you have to do for that is wait, and watch feminism defeat itself. But feminism didn’t kill Marriage 1.0 in the first place. The information economy did.

2. Marriage 1.0 sucked for men, anyway.
   Now, we can talk about how and why it sucked, and we will in a minute. But we don’t need to know how it sucked to know that it sucked. All we need to know is that men agreed to destroy it for the (mostly false) promise of a little hairy free-love snatch.

   Men saw it, it was available to them, they were intimately aware of what it offered, they watched their parents do it, and they chose column b. They didn’t want it.

End of debate. But we can talk about why they made this choice, and why, for the same reasons, what modern tradcons are offering you is a shit sandwich on really good bread.

1. Tradcon women are not submissive to you. They are submissive to the rules.
   Now, during the era of Marriage 0.1, this wasn’t really a significant difference, because the rule was “Do what your husband tells you”, and if one of your wives was disobedient, you just went and cut yourself a willow switch, and fixed the problem. And there was much rejoicing.
   But Marriage 1.0 wasn’t like that. The rules didn’t say “Obey your husband” anymore. They said “Husband must do A, B, and C. Wife must do X, Y, and Z, and must obey husband... unleeeeesssssss he neglects her or his order isn’t godly and righteous.”.
   And who, exactly, decides if he has been neglectful, or his instructions are bad? Why, she does, of course!
   That tradcon girl ain’t gonna obey you, Mr. Alpha Male Badass Person. Even if you do put a ring on it. She’s going to obey some guy in a big “I talk to Jesus” hat, who doesn’t really care what your priorities are because his idea of a relationship is five minutes alone with that hot altar boy. She’s only going to obey you if and when she feels like it.
   And obedience when you feel like it isn’t obedience at all... it’s bdsm-flavoured doing-whatever-the-fuck-you-want.
   And what consequences can you impose if she does shit you don’t like? Funny you should ask....

2. A Captain who cannot fire a bad First Mate without losing his crew and half his ship is no Captain at all.
   Now, no-fault divorce didn’t exist yet in Marriage 1.0, so she could actually be punished for breaking hat-guy’s rules. She cheated on you, she got nothing, because hat-guy told her not to cheat. But what about shit you want? Well, that Marriage 0.1 willow switch is right out, because hat-guy told you not to. So’s dread game, because that’s infidelity, which hat-guy doesn’t like. And if you decide you need to fire your first mate, because she won’t obey the captain, then she gets all the crew and at least half the ship.
   Get the picture? You ain’t the Captain, bro. Hat-guy is the Captain. The First Mate is you.

3. You are expected to surrender a large part of your sexual imperative for... what, exactly?
   You’re genetically programmed to seek out variety. Can’t do that anymore, because it’s against hat-guy’s rules. Supposedly what you get in exchange is love, support, reliable sex, etc. Except hat-guy doesn’t mandate those. Perhaps there’s some lip service to a wife’s “duties”, but how are they enforced? What if she’ll only have sex with you once every two weeks? Every month? No, you haven’t escaped the necessity for running game. You’re still in the sexual marketplace. Except now she has a monopoly.
   And that’s after marriage. Before it, well, don’t you dare expect to test-drive a car before you buy it. Hat-guy doesn’t like that, and he’s the Captain.

4. Gotta pay to play. And pay. And pay. And pay.
   Do you really need this explained? Picture the first girl you had sex with. Remember what she was like. Remember what the sex was like. Wanna bankroll her for life, so you can have that when she feels like it?

Now you get the picture. Marriage 1.0 is better than Marriage 2.0 in the same way that a kick in the crotch is better than being stabbed. Marriage Anything.0 is for losers who can’t get laid without it, and men so enslaved by their own oxytocin and protective instincts that they would take huge risks with no reward other than seeing her smile.

Don’t do it.

Learn game.

And if you want to let her have an LTR, make her earn it, and make sure you can kick her to the curb with zero cost the moment she stops making it worth your while.

Because you’re not allowed to give your wife a thrashing anymore. Your only power is the power to walk away. Never surrender it to anyone.

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Frame

Dread

You can’t spin plates all your life.

Not because you literally can’t (some of y’all smoooothe muthafuckas), but because sooner or later, you’re not going to want to.

Most men, with the occasional rare exception, are at some point in their lives going to want something more from a girl than a sexy body to ejaculate into.

That’s where the shit gets dangerous. Because while y’all know enough not to LTR the town bicycle, there’s another kind of woman out there who we need to talk about. Because while while everyone knows crazy hoes will ruin your shit, there are other ways for your life to suck.

I’m talking about traditionalist conservative (”tradcon”) women.

On the surface, this kind of woman looks like a good deal. She certainly talks a lot about doing the things that men want an LTR to do... keeping a low N count, being faithful and loyal to her man, acting submissive, treating his needs as important, etc.

Listen to her long enough, and some of y’all weak muthafuckas will tear up, decide she’s a unicorn, and promote her to LTR right away. Some of them are good at talking that shit.

Not a good plan.

Why not?

Isn’t an old-timey marriage, with a sweet, affectionate wife, a cozy home, and maybe some children something that many men want? It’s not all fantasies about being a rockstar and nailing groupies. Hell, we get some guys in askTRP who can’t get even get it up with on an ONS, because that’s just not their thing.

Yes, many men want this, but that doesn’t mean that is what is actually on offer.

You see, what the tradcon woman wants is the deal women had 100 years ago, or at least, the parts that are good for her. So she tells you, “marry me, and I will be a good wife to you”.

If this were true, great. But she wants you to take her word for it.

This ignores the single greatest and most fundamental piece of redpill writing ever. (There’s also a study guide.)

If you haven’t read and understood the Bitch Management Hierarchy already, please leave class and go report to the Tutoring Center for remedial class.

The rest of you know that the basic point is that trust is earned, not demanded. The reason that a woman must earn her way up the Bitch Management Hierarchy is that you only find out what she is really like by observing her behaviour over time.

Anyone can say anything, only actions tell the truth.

The tradcon woman who says “Marry/commit to me before sex” is attempting to buy her way to the top of the Hierarchy with nothing more than a promise. And anyone can say anything.

We refer to this phenomenon as Ladder Jumping.

Only two things can make a woman worthy of any trust at all:

1. She knows that breaking that trust will result in immediate, dire, and unavoidable punishment.

2. She has been observed, over a long period of time, to value her investment in the person extending that trust.

Why did this work 100 years ago? Because wedding vows were enforced. A woman knew that breaking her promise would result in ostracism, social death, and poverty. Case 1.

But case 1 is dead now. Society will not enforce wedding vows. Instead, it reward her for breaking them with cash and prizes. Your money, your house, your kids, attention, love, sympathy, etc.

So we move to case number 2. The Bitch Management Hierarchy. We make women earn that trust. And this is the deal that the tradcon woman attempts to decline. Her doctrine tells her to avoid sex before commitment with you, to avoid risking her N-count. But where does this risk go?

The risk is shifted to you. Instead of her having to be “all-in”, and betting that she can inspire you to want commitment, you assume the risk by committing to her before having any idea how she will handle that trust. How does that deal sound to you? You want that deal?

Ya wanna throw everything you’ve learned out the window because some bitch pinkie-swears she’s a unicorn? Didn’t think so. If she’s a unicorn, she can prove it just like everyone else, and not need to cut to the front of the line.

If she says she’s “saving it for marriage”, or “only has sex in a relationship”, laugh it off, treat it as ASD, and escalate the same way.

Women are women, no matter what values they give lip service to.

Ignore what women say, watch what they do.

Frame

Dread

Men are being sold direction and blame like defective women buying age defying skin cream.

The real issue is that men have been eased into living the life of defective women and marketed to like one. They scare you into buying age defying skin cream, scare you into losing half your resources, and scare you into believing divorce is the high-stakes plot twist single variable failure state, where the settlement gets decided by a coroner after someone goes off a mountain over a few million in joint accounts.

COVID proved how well single variable decisions work. “Well, if it saves one life! Now enjoy Incel-branded age defying skin cream.” No. I’m not doing this. I’m tired, boss.

Now, I don’t think men are stupid. Enough of them know these people are full of shit. When things go south, though, it’s nice to have a sacrificial animal that takes the sins. I’ve watched Andrew Tate go from the savior of young men to the ‘who?’ in a year. From the evil boogey man to the nobody in an ever increasing cycle of social media outrage, pretending to be the battle for life and death.

I don’t know if men have been looking for guidance in a world with more liars than ever, or if more liars than ever are manufacturing a crisis of guidance in men, but here we are. Men look to a guy with a podcast for spiritual guidance or a scapegoat. I’m extremely cynical, so take my bias into account.

The only reason men asking for guidance matters is because this niche is the only one that never promised anything. It’s the ISIS of self improvement, the uncola of subcultures, the trans fats of vegan bullshit. Most people borrowing the name for branding aren’t good. This space isn’t gatekept. Every group has its Judas. Go Trump 2028, now with orange age defying skin cream. Our Judas are the guys telling men what they should be doing. Handing out morals and ideology like age defying skin cream.

There are no shoulds. This isn’t a movement. No one is recruiting. There are no pep rallies. I may want an audience, but that’s me, not the Red Pill. It’s about as honest a broker as you’re going to find.

Which made us pretty good at what we did. And the problem with being good is that ix t got popular and did what niches do: attracted a regression to the mean. The mean wants to be told what to do, wants to be part of a cool club, and wants age defying skin cream without taking responsibility for a bad decision.

So that’s where we are. Everyone telling us what we should do is lying to get something from us. Men are treated like defective women and the average man is happy to oblige. Everyone wants someone to blame.

What should a guy do in this situation? Guys don’t know what they want. They want to know what makes them liked in their community, from their woman, or from a potential woman. So the question is actually “How do I get people to like me?” and they are so desperate for an answer they will ask me. I had a guy, during my first speech ever in this space, at that convention that shall not be named, ask me what his rites of passage should be. I was anonymous 20 minutes prior. Even if I had that answer, why the fuck would you ask me?

What should you do?

The core is how do you get people to like you. The easy answer is you don’t. You cannot manipulate people into liking you. The moment they detect the pander they rebel against it. So you don’t get people to like you. You can’t make them feel anything towards you. That is no longer your responsibility. What would you do knowing that?

While you won’t have all the answers, but you will know what you want, what you don’t, and how to ruthlessly cull anyone who won’t share the vision or pay market rates to come along. Ass, cash, or grass. Get out. The expanded, full essay for you guys is below

Ghost of Odessa

Softbone

Read more

Three pithy aphorisms, one good takeaway

In what world is a guy devoutly telling you to stop fucking a good thing? In what world is a spinster telling you that the worst thing in the world for you is to be the exact kind of man she encouraged for her whole life. In what world do people believe the stripper who says that they really like you?

This world, apparently.

I’ve given examples and been given examples as to why you shouldn’t red pill your friends. Most guys take that to mean they are some kind of lesser man who can’t handle the truth or will punish you for trying to help them out of their shitty marriage of desperation, which is true, but not what I’m after this time. I’m saying I wouldn’t red pill other people because they would try to sell me on their cargo cult bucket-life, and I don’t have the patience or stamina for it.

Frame, my second book, talks of the tetrahedron of frame, or 4 different tracks that help you gain, maintain, and foster Frame. Frame in this case is a metaphor for having an iron clad worldview that isn’t manipulatable from the outside, except for in your best interests. It’s a clunky explanation, but Frame is purposefully a hard to pin down concept. I write a lot of the intellectual pillar, a lot of others have expansive stuff on the physical pillar, but not much is out there on the emotional pillar. This is one of those rare ones.

I’m on a cut. My wife knows I’m on a cut. She’s decided that today is the day to deep fry Chile Rhillenos, to bake a cake, or to offer pizza because she’s too tired to cook or leaves gourmet Jellybeans in the kitchen. I can say no, and often do. But If you look at my cut in these moments, there’s always drag. I can’t always say no, and while guys can puff out there chest and say a real man would never let himself blah blah. The emotional pillar is about understanding your human failings.

The point is I know my limits. My limits are willpower. If I don’t want to eat something, I don’t buy something. If I do, it’s a matter of time before I eat the entire fucking thing. So I don’t buy things. As for the wifey? It’s not a boundary I’d kick her out over, but it’s a boundary I’ll yell over, or throw out food over. Does she get mad? Yes. Have I tried to explain to her what she’s doing and why? I used to. And it went about as well as you expected. She doesn’t know she’s doing it (or won’t admit if she does, but what’s the difference?)

I get the job done, but it’s harder than it has to be. And this is why you don’t redpill your friends. Are you able to be the big mean misogynist when you have friends take you aside and correct your behavior so that you can come to church on Sunday? If your wifes friends take her aside because they are worried about you, and what you said to Bill when he and Susan were having marital problems. Maybe you can, maybe you can’t. There is a drag though, which will have an effect, just like Jelly Beans in the cupboard eventually get eaten.

And this is all assuming:

1. You have your shit together (most evangelists don’t)

2. The other party wants to be saved (they never do)

3. You have no human failings that can be exploited (no one does)

Who needs the headache? Why spend a year or more working on developing the mental fortitude, physical and social skills to get a better sexlife (and possibly replaces the dead weight in your house) just to have to drag everyone else to some semblance of happiness while they are kicking and screaming the whole time? Why tempt yourself with those Jelly Beans when you don’t have to?

Which is why one of the most referenced and rehashed post in the Red Pill proper for a decade was Eunuchs of the Red Pill:

Eunuchs of the Red Pill

There’s only two arguments, one for action and one for inaction. Almost no one argues for action. If you meet another guy making his way he generally wants to be in the loop.

“How did it go?” He will ask. “Man, that sucked.” He will say when it fails. “Man, I gotta do that one” When it succeeds, and “I tried this, did you?”

The arguments are over style and details, not over the premise. Premise arguments don’t even argue the premise. No one will come out and say that wanting to fuck a chick you barely know is horrible (thoguh some do) they will worm their way into attacking everything else but the actual issue. They will complain about STD’s, which aren’t a concern unless you’re joining gay orgies or smashing chicks with track marks behind a dumpster. They will complain about thier own women. Like my favorite cuationary tale Pat Stedman when he claimed “The red pill guys are ruining the women for the rest of us.”

It’s funny in that arguing against you, they have to reduce women to the role of agency-free fuck-object, but that’s a different point.

You chasing your mission, and chasing skirts while you’re on your mission, now involves dealing with other peoples shit. And it’s not even theirs. None of these people believe what they are saying. They hope you do so that you will do what they want. What, you think that woman really thinks chaste women are better? She was railed at the Waffle House that time in July, but she’ll never tell you that. The Sara Stock’s of the world will absolutely sit there, and with a straight face tell you that porn is the problem, look the Pope in the eye and take Mother Mary’s crown and place it on top her head, and then eat the ass of some B tier podcaster for a little blow and not see a problem with that.

This is who you are arguing with. This is who wants you to stop doing things and learning from them.

And it’s not that they hate you. People barely think about you, even the ones you love. Your mom doesn’t care about you, and she’s the one who cares the most about you. What she actually cares about is her asshole ex husband (you would call him dad) who treated her so horribly she gave him 2 kids and ten years, then left because she wasn’t haaapy getting everything she wanted. It’s the tone that he provided it you see. She doesn’t care about you, she just wants to contain the thing that made you possible, so that other women will never have it.

And those are the worst people. Not the haters. Haters are fine, they just want you to fail. It’s predictable and if you fall for it, you have no one to blame but yourself. It’s the ones who love you that you got to be careful about. I’m not a politics guy, but I find this example to be the best one I’ve ever seen.

Ghost of Odessa

Softbone

You can fuck up, you can fuck up a lot. And so long as you’re not getting someone pregnant who shouldn’t be, or catching track mark diseases behind that dumpster, you’ll end up with a good lesson and a great story to tell later. Don’t let the neurosis, reflective regret, or hopeful sabotage of others drive you away from carving your own path.

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The best way to get custody was 20 years ago, the second best time is today.

I can’t stand the Men’s Rights Advocates. (MRA) They are whiny, think of themselves as male feminists, have women running their ‘movement’ if that’s even accurate, and I’ve yet to see a win in the last 50 years from them. If I had to sum the idea up, it’s men agreeing with the equality line and deciding to be feminism, but for men. This doesn’t work, since feminism isn’t a movement or an ideology, but a tactic. The tactic is to weaponize the male protective instinct for more. More what? Just more. More freedom, less responsibility, more authority, more money and jobs and just … more.

The reason I bring them up is that one of their main grievances has been the unfairness of the family court system. They aren’t wrong. It doesn’t treat men as second class citizens so much as treats the things men value as less valuable in the courts decisions, which is such a feminine way to do things. For example, your average man thinks his job is to provide and protect. He gets a great job and buys a firearm and works his ass off to be good at both. But during a divorce proceeding, the wife can accuse hubby of being unstable and that he has firearms in the house, leading to an overly sensitive state to deal with the both, just in case, for the sake of the children.

And it doesn’t help that on the rare case where they have a crazy man with a gun, they plaster it everywhere. It’s a threat point. It’s the cause of the Emasculation Paradox.

I hate talking about statistics, in this case it’s illustrative of what’s happening. A majority of divorces are because the wife isn’t haaappy. There’s no abuse, there’s no cheating, there’s not much of anything worse than general money problems, but that’s more endemic than anything. Almost always, the reason is that wifey isn’t haaapy. (the extra aah is on purpose) So the rare exceptional case, with a man being arrested, or losing his shirt in the divorce, or being shot by cops or weekday dad (long story) are trotted around to keep the cattle in line.

The MRA decide to bitch and moan and build awareness, which is code for building a personal brand without committing to doing anything substantive. The red pill guys, of which many of us are lawyers, many more are divorced, and quite a few have gotten reasonable or beneficial results in the family courts, looked into the law, the process, and the decisions we can make to navigate the hellhole. And it turns out the law is impartial, even though it’s not fair. What does this mean?

You want to work and have a stay at home wife. The courts decides that means you came to this business arrangement with her and that you’ve decided to take her on as a financial dependent. There’s no reason to change things after separation: the kids are happy, the wife is happy, you both agreed to it. So outside of the economic reality, where most men have working wives, a stay at home wife is a poor choice for men. Why tell the courts you want to pay, regardless of whether you fuck your wife or not?

So the courts are actually fair, it’s just that the metrics the court uses favor traditional female role and harm traditional male roles. So how do you navigate it? Stop trying to play the part of the patriarchy and learn the rules you are given and play to win. It sounds like pithy nothings, so keep reading.

Pause

Frame

Dread

Ghost of Odessa

Softbone

The Biological Stepmom

This was originally written by a lawyer, Red Curious. I’ve added, edited and streamlined the concept, since I don’t want people thinking I’m speaking as an accredited lawyer here.

As a divorce attorney I have the privilege of seeing

Why most marriages fall apart;

How different family and parenting structures function in the context of the new relationships of my clients and opposing parties.

I can’t imagine a single male divorce attorney who would deny it. Female attorneys have stronger hamsters, so I rarely trust them. As for family structures that work, I’ve developed the theory I call “biological step-mother.” It is based on this one infallible law of divorce and custody cases:

Men don’t get custody after marriage because they don’t live like they have sole, exclusive custody during the marriage. Shared parenting is a conversation for another day. Men must develop subliminal custody of their children in their wives’ minds, and more importantly, the courts.

Legal Context

Although laws are changing, custody matters always involve judicial discretion. This will never change. That judicial discretion will always tilt slightly toward mothers, regardless of what the statute says.

Judges inherently respect history, even when it has been overruled. History dictates that mothers are default custodial parents. Many judges have been in the profession since before the law change and can’t get the old ways out of their heads.

The law still assumes default custody to a mother simply because the baby came out of her belly, whereas men can’t know for sure who the father is until that DNA test comes back.

Divorce law is slightly different from custody law in that it presumes shared parenting, but the legal bias from juvenile law is still subconsciously present because most divorce judges are also the juvenile judges.

Abortion law implies that children are the property of the mother. It’s her body, so she can decide whether the child lives or dies. When the child is born, there is a slight change, but the legal context of “she decides what happens to her baby” subliminally carries over to DR/JV law.

Most DR/JV judges are women. As to the few male ones, they are virtually always closet betas who put women on a pedestal. They act alpha because it’s their courtroom and they have positional authority, but they have no internally radiating authority. They still crack jokes from the bench: “You’re here because you didn’t do the dishes like she told you, right?”

Can dads win custody? Absolutely, I do it all the time. But women don’t believe this until it actually happens. This is key. Women make decisions based on their perceptions, not actuality.

Here are the two parenting structures that often result in stressed marriages, and one I think guys can learn from.

Traditional Biological Mother

The biological mother has a unique and unashamed relationship with her children. She carries them in her womb, nurses them when they’re young, and often takes primary responsibility for their basic growth and development. For all practical purposes, they are her kids. This is especially true for stay at home moms.

You, as the father, are involved to the degree that she finds your involvement advantageous to the development of the children. If you start doing things she doesn’t like, she throws a hissy fit or just leaves. More significantly, she will undermine your relationship with the children in any number of ways. Parental alienation is real, and it squats to pee.

Traditional Stepmother

Step-mothers respect the fact that her husband is the ultimate authority figure over the child. If the relationship went sour, she accepts the fact that she will have no custodial rights in the child. As a result, she does not take personal responsibility for the growth and development of the child, giving it to her husband. By placing him in charge, she sees herself as a helper who comes alongside him to assist in raising the child.

Unfortunately, step-mothers often maintain a subconscious emotional detachment. This is because of the custody issue. They don’t want to form a close bond with someone when there is a possibility that they may never see that person again. I’ve heard it said many times: a woman’s greatest fear is abandonment. In this case, instead of a romantic abandonment, it’s a parent-child relationship that’s lost. For women, this is too close a bond to risk, so step-mothers remain subliminally detached and allow their husbands to be the final authority and emotional rock for the children.

Not to take more potshots on the MRA’s, but a lot of them have sob stories about dating the single mom, splitting up, then being abandoned by the kids they loved, and the mom they put up with to keep playing dad. They can be such a useless, whiny people.

Biological Stepmother

This is a relatively rare phenomenon, occurring when divorced or nearly divorced couples decide to reunite; particularly when the father has demonstrated that he is likely to get custody of the children or shared parenting and that she would not be the default custodian.

Read more

Most of the time I pick the saddest of sad sacks to write on. Their experiences are extreme outliers, and good for getting a very basic concept that seems to fly over the head of men, and make it click. This isn’t one of those cases. In fact, I can think of only one other marriage like this in my decade of dictating the field reports inside of the married Red Pill space: a woman named Vampire Squidina and her husband. It’s a rare one, the type III dysfunctional captain. I believe it’s in Frame.

Frame

Dread

If you’re reading this but haven’t heard of my best selling Praxeology series, this references the three types of men inside of dysfunctional relationships. The first captain is the Drunken Captain with a begrudging first officer. It’s the most common and easiest to fix. Husband was otherwise competent, attractive etc. However, through injury, sickness, or laziness, has declined considerably. Consider the man who married a girl who instantly gained 50 pounds and stopped working, kind of like that. For the most part his job is to get his shit together and wifey has to learn to let him lead again.

The second captain is the Neurotic Captain with his constantly complaining passenger. It’s a competent man, though likely less attractive than the drunk. His wife is neurotic and he’s walking on eggshells to appease her. She runs things via withholding validation. It’s becoming more common to see these guys, you would call them pussies. Their road is a little harder and fills most of the field reports I write about. It’s too much to get into here.

The third captain is a rare one. It’s the Captain and her husband. Husbands who have wives who run the show, super confident types, for various reason that are out of scope. Guys are drawn to this who tend to float or coast. You could call them man-children. They don’t get the same path the other guys have. For example, a big part of the first two captains is to learn, or relearn, not putting up with their wives shit anymore. But for a type three, he’s been doing what he wants anyways. Being selfish is easy, and he will not be able to be a confident asshole so long as he has that man child within him.

Which leads me to Billy. Billy is a type 3. He doesn’t have a bad sexlife, but he’s not in control of it. Billy doesn’t wear the pants. Billy doesn’t aim to do better. Billy married a striver, and Billy knows something is wrong, but he didn’t quite know what.

The Problem: She’s’ good, and everyone knows it. When her focus and energies were spent on Billy, he felt like a million bucks. She dove headlong into wedding planning, and your input was barely solicited, let alone factored into a decision. On the big day, you mostly felt like a tuxedo mannequin stand-in. Since then, the tone’s been set. He’s a set piece.

Billy does okay, and is secure enough to be a Husband First Officer to the Wife Captain. The problem is his wife isn’t nearly secure enough herself to be a good Captain. She makes her share of mistakes, and she knows it. She does things like emasculating him in front of friends, or soliciting and then disregarding opinion, mostly out of insecurity. And she’s intelligent and creative enough to be really good at it.

The Wife as Captain isn’t working for him. And it’s probably not working for her either, but that would require admitting mistakes, and she doesn’t do apologies. The battle is over someone who wants more and someone who is content yet aimless. He needs a mission bigger than his wife.

Eventually though, he’s going to run into problems. While becoming the Captain of his own ship, he’s going to become a shitty First Officer on hers. She’ll see him enforcing boundaries and think it’s withdrawal of duties, and will likely withdraw her own “duties.” Learn the term “Outcome Independence,” because you’re going to need it.

From Frame:

Billy, 2IC

Billy, a 6 foot, 37 year old 192 pound skinny-fat man who doesn’t lift. So far he’s read No More Mr Nice Guy.

At least once a year, for the last 7 years, my wife will go fucking nuclear about how unfair her life is because all of our friend’s husbands make more than me. The other wives don’t have to work and get to play tennis all day. She says how I’m unambitious and that she just needs to “be at peace” with the fact that she’s going to have to make all the money for our family so we can live the life she wants. I would normally Defend, Explain, Excuse, Rationalize (DEER) whenever it happened.

About a month ago, she had another one of these episodes. But this time, by the grace of God, I just shut the fuck up. For the first time ever, I saw right through it all. She knows I have a fragile ego and was just trying to poke at it to motivate me to become the man she wants. Even if she doesn’t consciously understand that herself. When she’s on this rant, there is a strong implication that I’ve become the kind of man that she would never have agreed to marry. When I stopped talking, it kind of freaked her out. She was afraid that I had finally become unretarded enough to actually understand that. Over the next couple of days, she would try to break the ice and “apologize” which was just another disguised entry point into “talking” which I didn’t want to do.

The worst part is she’s not even wrong about me being unambitious. I have a sales job, which I’ve had for over a decade now, which I hate. I’m not a sales-y guy, so I find it difficult to try harder because it feels inauthentic. I get by at work on vibes alone. I’m generally useful and likeable, and I’m on 100% commission, so there’s no reason to get rid of me. I also have a crippling procrastination habit, which has plagued me since the 6th grade. I know exactly what I need to do to unfuck my life, but can never stick with it long enough to make real lasting change. I have seriously eroded my self confidence.

Anyway, since I didn’t know if shutting the fuck up was the right move, I was looking on the internet for similar stories to mine. In doing so, I discovered this forum. I instantly recognized that I was in the right place for me when I read that the commandments were to Shut The Fuck Up (STFU), lift, sidebar, and own my shit. I know I need to fix every aspect of me, not just career wise, but mentally, spiritually, and physically.

A few years ago, I made it halfway through No More Mr. Nice Guy (NMMNG) even though I was unaware this subreddit existed so at least I had a jumping off point. I have lurked for a month now, just trying to get the lay of the land. I started implementing some basic principals and had immediate success in exercising frame control with my wife. Even though I’m a retard at my core, I felt like progress was possible.

However, I got an ice cold bucket of water on Father’s Day. Me and the wife were just sitting on the porch, watching the rainfall, having a nice discussion. But, like the fucking verbal kungfu master she is, one thing lead to another and she had ambushed me in the “it’s not fair that you’re a fucking bum and I don’t want to work” rant. I had done so well over the last month of not stepping on that landmine, that I was hurt and mad at myself for letting it happen. I was Defend, Explain, Excuse, Rationalize (DEER)ing like a motherfucker. She was spraying her emotions all over me and I was just fucking drowning in that shit. I broke. I threw my chair back and told her to “get fucked” and stormed off inside to watch a movie with the kids.

Now, that may seem tame to some of y’all, but that is absolutely not something I ever expected to utter to my wife. It was like an animal instinct to protect my feelings. I fully expected her to come in crying about how I had crossed the line and demand an apology. But she didn’t. She just sat outside by herself for a long time. Again, I think she was afraid that I was catching on to the implication that she doesn’t love and respect me anymore.

The next day, when I came home from work, there was a whole page, handwritten letter from my wife on my desk. I opened the envelope and it started something like this “It’s not fair to you for me to take my frustration out on you...” I closed that bitch up and put it back in the envelope without reading it. As of this writing, I still haven’t read it. I’m going to have to be in the mood to read it.I know she doesn’t truly think she’s being “unfair” to me, as evidenced by the fact that she has done this several times since we’ve been together. Hell, she’s even blown up at me twice in the same month, and she said she was “sorry” the first time. She wants what she wants and doesn’t give a flying fuck about my feelings. For her, it’s about skillfully captaining the boat and getting her dipshit first officer to not quit. I know this will be a problem from here to eternity until I get control of the boat myself.

Sexlife:It hasn’t been a huge issue. It’s not the thing that directly brought me here. However, sex is completely in her frame. I’ve just been too big of a pussy to realize it.

As an example though: the other night, she was sucking my dick. I told her to “kiss it”. She stopped and said “weird...” not in a fun way, did it, then kept going. She otherwise did great. Afterwards she said, “where did you get that idea from? You’ve never asked for that before.” She has used this every single time I’ve tried something new. She says it in a very judgemental way, and uses it to control the sex in her frame. I can’t fucking stand it because it has worked really well at keeping me in my little jar and in fear of what she thinks of me. It’s a subtle way of calling me a pervert.

This time, I told her that she was being judgemental and trying to ruin my fun. She tried to defend herself. I just stopped her and said that I won’t tolerate her trying to ruin it for me. She just stopped talking. I’m not sure it was the “correct” thing to say in that situation, but it was the truth for once and it felt right.

I’ve tried to hold myself accountable for so long, and failed so many times at it, that my confidence has eroded down to the bedrock. I’m here to try and reverse the slide for once in my pathetic life.

As an example: I’ve done the Starting Strength novice linear progression at least 25 times over the last 6 years. My current lifting numbers are a peak I’ve reached each time. Something will come up: vacation, illness, lack of motivation, injury, boredom, whatever; and I’ll just drop down 70% and run it again. I suspect this plateau is probably near the end of my linear progression, and I need to introduce intermediate programming changes. But, that requires holding myself accountable to the basics: protein, sleep, consistently lifting, and not being a pussy.

I need to work on my focus, command of my emotions, and belief in myself. In short: quit fucking procrastinating. I am the master of making a big ass task list, then not doing one single thing on there.

But, since things must be done, I see no other way than to take control once and for all. Therefore, in here, in addition to lifting and reading the sidebar, I will take ownership of the things that I say I’m going to do. I need to start with baby steps, with a sufficiently low bar, that I can start to stack up some wins.

Every day, I must write 3 tasks I want to complete, no matter how small, and do them without fail. In my next Own Your Shit (OYS), I will keep score of the number of days I successfully achieved those 3 things I told myself to do.

Analysis

If you know what to look for, the one thing that should pop out to you is that he wrote this entirely in his wife frame.

Read more

I was a smart kid my whole life. Teachers told me. Parents told me. They put me in gifted programs and I tested off the charts in anything I did. So when I was a brand new sailor and my boss told me to get off the CCMS console and go to the heads for cleaning stations, I gave him a speech about how I was able to efficiently create circuits for our task group exercise (TGEX) and save him time. He said,

“I’m sure you’re much smarter than me, ordinary seaman. But I’m your boss, and you’re an OD, and it’s cleaning stations, so go scrub the fucking toilets”

Hurt my feelings, but was the best lesson I ever got from the military. No one cares if you’re smart, and if you were that smart, you wouldn’t have to scrub toilets or face a court martial.

The kind of person who believes in it gets very mad when you point this out, which is what people do when they are confident in something; argue about it incessantly and call you a bitch for doubting the SCIENCE! Critical thinking has nothing to do with intelligence, it was invented by communists for reasons beyond the scope of this essay, and the only thing that matters is domain knowledge.

People, and by people I mean the downwardly mobile, over educated, over socialized, and under employed, love to mix the two together. Telling someone they are intelligent is a great way to soothe their piss poor net worth and shitty future economic prospects. They think being smart is good. They think being critical is good. Critical thinking sounds good, because who doesn’t like to be critical and think?

It’s all bullshit.

IQ, and I’m simplifying here, is a proxy measurement of how well people can learn new information. Language, logic, space etc. They get the two mixed up because being told you’re good at critical thinking means you’re good at being intelligent.

Sure, IBM isn’t knocking at their door. Sure, MENSA isn’t taking any new members right now. Not that they’d know. These people haven’t applied at IBM, someone online told them that H1B Indians took all the jobs anyways, so why bother? A critically thinking man would know that. MENSA applications require an IQ test, or military aptitude test. I know this because I did a FOIA request and got my aptitude test results. Well within MENSA standards.

Of course when the clerk handed me the paperwork, and I told her what it was for, she asked: Whats MENSA? And I lost interest in MENSA after that. Who wants to join a club that don’t get no pussy?

It’s easier to know about these things, never make any effort at them, and hold onto the idea that one is SMART. Neither I, nor the clerk, had heard of critical thinking before that. Of course we critically thought about work performance a lot, the military works that way. If you screw up something goes critical.

But the Harry Potter millennial would rather bitch about the housing market, while making no effort to save up for a down payment, because boomers ruined the property market. Why not save up, in case the market crashes? Nothing ever happens, bro. Oh right, you heard that from a podcaster who was using critical thinking skills.

The beauty about knowing everything and doing fuck all about it is that you never have to put a dent in that Critically Thinking Intelligence. If you try and fail, that’s on you. But if you never try, then you never have to look at yourself in the mirror and say that you’re not as smart as you thought you were.

Critical Thinking was some commie blather, drummed up by some egg head that swore that the old way of doing things sucked. That you could learn a meta skill, outside of being an expert in any one thing, by learning what he called critical thinking. Don’t know anything about writing? That’s okay, you can apply critical thinking skills and figure it out from first principles.

Which is why every under 40 person you know is an expert in everything except for the things you have actual domain knowledge of. Gell-Mann amnesia has become the standard, along with Dunning Kruger. they know nothing but can figure out anything. And since most people don’t know about most things, they are drawn to the confident sounding figure. And Critical thinkers do sound confident.

Of course classical educators know it’s bullshit. They know that the way you learn something is to learn about it. Read up on all the ideas and concepts in a thing, practice the thing, understand the thing by immersion. But that’s hard, and you may not understand it right away. You can spend a lot of work just to find out your not a good astrophysicist, or just join the podcast circuit and give out pithy nihilisms and make bank.

Communism is great at making the children of great men feel special without having to earn it. If fuck you dad was an ideology.

The only way to know things is to study things. Facts, figures, concepts, implantation etc. Don’t let anyone fool you. And the guy who knows things knows what he doesn’t know, so he’s not as confident as the well unread, so don’t let anyone fool you.

Like the idiot in this essay, he sees a bucket on the floor, telling you that he knows what’s in the bucket with absolute certainty.

Now, I talk about intersexual dynamics, and the space is full of them. Soccer marms who feel a certain way and know exactly what you need to do to thrive in todays sexual market place. This always involves flowers and money and treating her with reverence and sticking to the words of the bible: not those ones that require her to put out or obey or anything, just the ones that help her out and make her feel good.

She loves the bible, and has nothing but contempt for your backwards interpretation of things, but maybe if you do what she wants, that will work too, while getting her approval to boot. You and I have domain knowledge. You can trust your lyin’ eyes. Not becuase they are smart but because you can replicate what you’ve read and what you know and what you do.

To me, Critical Thinking sounds a lot more like the rules of rhetoric, but distorted into a false sense of accomplishment. considering how many of our generation have been shut out of the prosperity of the industrial revolution, it makes sense why the kids love it. It’s like offering crack to a crack whore.

But it will only ever be a salve. Nothing can shortcut the process. You have to do, to read up on, to learn. It takes work and it’s hard and you learn a lot so that you can learn how much you don’t know. Making it digestible and overly confident to the lay person isn’t your job, succeeding is.

In the end, your goal is to get laid, keep a woman around long enough to throw a baby into her, marry her, or a combination of all three. Don’t let women and overly confident retards detract you from that vision. It sounds crass, but you’re a human being, you have evolved for at least 6000 years to do this. It’s your whole reason for existence. Well, that and power point presentations to afford Funko Pops or that new pistol you saw in that video that swears any other pistol won’t defend you in a self defense situation.

Man that guy was confident about the difference between 9 and 10mm, wasn’t he? Critical Thinking, meet ballistics.

You exist for you. Anyone who wants something from you had better offer you something of similar value in return for what they’re asking instead of trying to convince you it’s your duty to provide, or threatening you for non-compliance. Every moral system is ultimately just a set of rules someone or some group made up and adopted over time to suit their purposes

— 2020 Frame

While you’re reading this, take some time to read some fiction as well. Life is dystopic enough. Why not have fun with it and the adventures of a man, like you, crushed under the feminine imperative and longing for adventure and his balls.

Ghost of Odessa

Softbone

Everyone in this niche loves to say it’s descriptive, not prescriptive. But people are people, and we all make predictions. In my research I’ve found a lot of old predictions and found out that it’s good that we stick to descriptions, because our prescriptions suck. Having said that, our doom and gloom predictions also suck, so there’s reason for hope.

Thankfully, it doesn’t really matter. No one learned anything over the last 20 years, none of what we have worked on will ever be accepted or adopted into the mainstream, and no one is coming to save us, we are truly free.

So in the vein of ‘ignore what she says, watch what she does’ I’m ignoring what the 3R’s of the Red Pill have said, and looking at what they did, and so can you.

This is the most shared chart in the history of charts, I’m pretty sure. Every angry embittered woman (foid) every sexless Christian defender of woman (simp) and every frustrated celibate (incel) and migrant (brownoid) uses it and attaches their latest blather about men and women and the ought of the day.

“Don’t trust your lyin’ eyes, trust my brand!”

The funny thing is, it’s not like pulled it out of a hat and patted himself on the back for decrypting the Rosetta Stone. Roissy was talking about this five years prior and I’m sure that he took this from someone else that was well before my time.

The Limits of Game

May 29th, 2007 by Heartiste

The year is 2007. By the time you get around to reading this it will have been twenty years. As far as I can tell, I’m the only guy who does this. There’s a lot of guys who know, and a lot of guys who implement, but unless I’m forgetting someone, I’m the only one who treats this unserious, yet important aspect of the human condition with the rigor of Roissy.

It took a half a decade of work on my end, and a decade in the trenches from faceless thousands, but I like to think we have refined the application for long term relationships. Roissy’s prediction was that was the missing piece of the puzzle to collectively ‘wake up’ men to the modern sexual landscape. And with a generation of hindsight to back me up, I can confidently say that absolutely nothing has changed, at all. It is still a rounding error of the population who is even aware of what I’m talking about (you) and the world has managed to do a better job convincing men to chop off their dicks and sneak into the girls bathroom while blasting the great trooned out bake sale to national television than convincing guys to take their own life happiness into their own hands.

Man was not built to thrive, man was built to toil, to sacrifice, to willfully become the step from which others can achieve greatness, or more SSRI prescriptions or something equally glib.

This isn’t doom and gloom though. While Roissy may have been wrong in a lot of his predictions, his negative predictions are also wrong.

By age 50, the decrepitude of mitochondrial degeneration will really begin to hinder a man’s ability to score. Women under 30 will not take his flirting seriously any longer. At this time, the amount of power (in the form of money) he’ll need to continue attracting younger women will rise exponentially. In graph form, it would look like this:

For women, their version of game, wealth, social status, and power over men are dependent on one necessary variable: her beauty. Once that goes, (and it usually goes faster for them than it does for men), they are shit out of luck. But for the brief window of time they have their beauty, they hold in their hands the power of the gods.

…

Older women (between 30 and 45) who still have a few years of serviceability left in them can compete against the younger competition by putting out right away. Nevertheless, this is a temporary fix. Any man worth having will get his rocks off with the cougar and save his commitment for the kitten. A graphical representation of the market constraints women operate within would look like this:

I don’t know who Roissy stole his graphs from, but I know how they’ve evolved. Put these two MSPAINT drawings together, and you have the SMV chart from above. I prefer Roissy’s to Rollos representation. Not because I think one is better than the other, but because I disagree with Tomassi’s use of numbers.

The problem with numbers is it gives foids and brownoids and simps an excuse to waste everyone’s time arguing. I don’t think the chart works as a descriptive, but as an illustrative. The simplicity of knowing that men build up slow, peak late, and drift into their golden years, and women peak early, then hit a … wall tells a great story that one can apply to their own lives, men and women, without getting bogged down in the autism of debate or the branding of hate. Telling women it happens at 28 or 32 gives endless (at least twenty years, anyways) of fodder for an eternal gender war between the pumped and dumped against the underfucked and frankly, I’m tired of it, boss.

We could have had a golden age. Women could have been settling down early with the best man they could get a hold of, had some self awareness of men (we will fuck anything, but we don’t settle for mid) while men would know to calm the fuck down, not drive a van into a group of cheerleaders and get what they can while they enjoy getting better every year for a half a century.

But noo. We had to get shit like this instead.

If you don’t know who these people are, I congratulate you. One is a serial killer with a Uhaul and the other is White Nationalist Richard Spencer knocking up infamous misandrist RadfemHitler and being the Brangelina of the gender war. Are you more confused or less? Moving on.

And while I know and enjoy the branding playbook of the last 20 years of: say something provocative, farm hate comments to draw attention and audiences from the rubberneckers, I am saying it’s a necessary evil. Frankly, no one gives a shit to see charts and statistics battling in the octagon.

It’s been the way for as long as I’ve known this little niche.

Example 1: Someone writes a very generic, boring list of ways to get your shit together, act like a man, be honest with yourself, and stop trusting people that lie to you. Slap on a provocative title about warlords and then…

Vice grabbed it, NETFLIX had a serial killer show with the article on the laptop in some hit series that no one remembers now, but was all the rage back then. hundreds of assholes cried and bitched and moaned about it, and 20k new users subscribed to the red pill. Everyone got the same takeaway:

“How could someone write something this horrible. I have to see for myself. Wait, this is just about not being scared of women and not letting yourself get lied to?”

And my prediction, which will likely not come true, is this is less useful than it had been in the past. In the cases where it is true, it’s this cargo cult version of online hate mobs: everyone knows it’s offensive, everyone performatively gets offended, and the audience largely tunes out of it. I do it, and have yet to get many hate comments from someone without a brand antiethical to mine. Their audience cheerleads their champion, while my audience cheerleads mine. We have entered the post modern, deconstructed version of our niche, congradulations.

Luckily, or unluckily depending on which side of the fence you’re on, things still chug along. Numbers are down, but the signal to noise ratio is skewing far more towards signal. In this case, the signal is a guy getting fucked over by some wife or girlfriend or pastor or parent or female friend or coworker. But hey, if it takes a kick in the nuts to kickstart a guys journey into the anti-kicking-nuts pipeline, who am I to judge?

The rubber neckers are burning out, the last blood is being squeezed from stones everywhere, and we are going back to a 1980s version of newsletters being sent out direct to consumers mailboxes. the money isn’t here anymore and so the opportunists are simply playing gender war until the next election year rolls around because, for some reason, politics will always be the place to battle for the fate of the universe and the attention spans of the bored mans disposable income.

It’s one of the few places here that are still available to work hard, be talented, and achieve something. maybe not greatness, but a mortgage payment or a visa to a country that doesn’t want you euthanized to save on healthcare costs. For the guys on the ground, it means there’s many different places to go to hone your skill of sticking dick into vagina without losing your soul in the process. And if you’re willing to curate your inputs, can absolutely carve out a little plot of land on Happiness island, in whichever county you see fit to.

The real lesson over the last twenty years of ignoring tone and focusing on content is that if you can ignore tone and focus on content, you can do great things, both as a creator and a consumer. And if you meet someone who calls herself BitchFeministHitler420 online, don’t throw a baby into her, for the love of god.

Since you’ve stuck around till the end, feel free to enjoy some of the best distilled work from this space in the last two decades

Frame

Dread

Hypergamy as a swing set, which is an analogy I’ll get to in a second. We had it all, and it’s mostly gone. Luckily, I’m like a little league baseball coach: smart enough to coach a team to greatness, stupid enough to take little league seriously enough to want to.

Having said that,

The Internet never forgets, my ass. When I do research to find the more obscure stuff from the Red Pill, the stuff that ended up as pithy platitudes and aphorisms that irritate women on Twitter for a few bucks a month, I spend more time scouring the various archive sites than reading the damned work. And it’s good work, most of the time — some of the time.

Frankly? Most of the material on the Red Pill, or manosphere (I hate using that astroturfed term) is absolute garbage. I suppose that goes for everything. One in a hundred research papers gets cited by a second one, 85% of research is non-replicatable, and while there are hundreds of films made a year, most of us can recall wanting to watch one, maybe two.

The point is, everything mostly sucks, and if you want to find a reason to hate anything, the universe will provide you unlimited fodder. Add to that the gendered need to prefer women over men, and it’s no surprise the Red Pill is the red scare of 2026.

The birth of this was back in 2014, from an author, husband and pornographer who went by the pen name Ian Ironwood. Back then there was no money in joining the He-Man Woman Haters Club. People were here for the love of the game, and the nerding out on the subject matter. Part of what made it so useful (and it continues to be useful) was that when there was a mistake, it wasn’t insincere, and guys loved to correct things. Since there is no governing body to appeal to, the only way this worked was for good ideas to rise and bad ideas to die off. The literal marketplace of ideas, tested by the average marriages and relationships and one night stands of America, Canada, UK, and Australia for a few decades.

This is why you’ll find it impossible to look up the field report of a guy telling everyone how to grind up a Plan B pill into your hookups orange juice in the morning (yes, that one was real, and illegal, don’t do it) but you’ll be able to find a lot on Hypergamy. The utility creates interest. The interested create content. The content breeds longevity.

And since no one likes reading bland, clinical jargon. Enjoy a swing set analogy. But first.

Frame

Dread

Ghost of Odessa

Softbone

The Swing Set of Hypergamy

On the far side of the playground the boys gathered in the sandbox. They came to build. With buckets and shovels they raised walls and towers, imagined castles and armies, fought over whether to build it here or there. Hierarchies formed naturally. David directed the work and the others followed. Tommy hauled sand in his yellow truck. Randy positioned soldiers. Heath brought dinosaurs. The sandcastle grew taller, and the armies bigger, through their coordinated efforts. The boys worked together toward one shared goal. When they disagreed, the goal, and a few punches, were how they resolved the conflict. Across the playground were girls on the swings, who watched the boys and waited for the strongest boy to come push them.

On the swings the girls moved with the rhythm of their own game. They competed for height and speed. But if a girl swung too differently they got mad and shamed her. They preferred to have everyone swinging the same way, but they each secretly wanted to swing higher, but needed it to be an accident so the other girls wouldn’t attack them. It’s not my fault became their shield.

So the girls sought the perfect synchronized swing that sent a shared thrill through them all. Still, they preferred a strong push. The best pushes came from the boys who led the sandbox. When a girl secured David or one of the other top boys to push her, the other girls noticed. Her status rose. The higher and longer he pushed, the greater her standing among the girls became and the more each girl wanted her to fall down. Each girl hoped for the attention of the strongest boy.

When David left the sandbox to push a girl on the swings, the other girls watched closely. The girl he chose gained immediate notice. Her position among the girls rose. The other girls wanted the same attention from him or from the next highest boy. They began competing for his time. Each hoped he would choose her next. The strongest boys drew the most interest from every girl on the swings.

The girls used smiles, laughter, and careful words to keep the strongest boys pushing them. They timed their swings to match the rhythm of the boy liked. They offered small glimpses and playful promises to hold his interest. Each girl tried to make herself the one he wanted to push the most. They competed quietly with one another for his attention. Their goal was to keep the highest boy focused on them alone.

Most girls preferred the strongest and most skilled boys to push them. These boys gave the highest and longest swings. The better the pusher, the stronger the thrill and the higher the girl rose in the eyes of the others. Some girls settled for lesser pushers when the top boys were taken. Every girl still aimed for the best available boy who could deliver the greatest height and excitement.

The greatest prize was the Flying Catch. A girl would swing higher than ever before, release at the perfect moment, and soar through the air. Only the strongest and most skilled boy could push her that high and then catch her safely in his arms. When a boy and girl succeeded together, her status among the girls soared. Every girl dreamed of being the one chosen for such a moment with the very best boy.

Most girls settled for ordinary pushes from good but not top boys. They still gained status from these moments, yet every girl continued to watch and hope for the strongest boy to choose her. The highest thrills and the greatest social rewards always came from the leaders of the sandbox. The girls depended on these exceptional boys to reach the best swings. Sometimes they would get one of the worst boys to offer a push. They could push for longer and in better ways than the strongest boys but the girls didn’t care. If anything, it was better for them, in the eyes of their girls, to show them laughing at those boys. They may not have the strongest boy pushing them, but what they lacked in quality they made up for in the rejection of volume.

The swings depended on the strongest boys from the sandbox. Girls gained their greatest thrills and highest status when those boys chose to push them. The rare times when a top boy and a girl achieved the Flying Catch together, everyone on the playground noticed. Her position rose above all the others. In this way the girls constantly sought the very best boys, drawn to the leaders who could give them both the highest flight and the greatest admiration from the other girls.

Abstract

So what does this mean? Well, for men, social dominance is not conferred by women, it’s awarded by other men in a process of Intrasexual competition for dominance and leadership. Men continually compete for dominance in social interactions with one another. The men who achieve the greatest rank among their peers may then display that dominance as a powerful advantage in attracting women for sex. The guy who is best able to organize other men, usually because he’s better for the job, and not any female approval are what make those sand castles.

So the boys are off being boys, competing for each other’s attention and establishing hierarchy. That matters less than how well they work together to build it. After a while someone starts giving orders and the other boys start to obey them, and what a hell of a big sandcastle they make when they all work together.

The girls are trying to attract the attention of the distracted boys and hopefully get one of them to come over and push her for a minute, because that adds to her social capital. The more she can persuade one of the boys to leave the sandbox and push her, the more the other little girls envy her social control.

This is the reason why women ruin male hierarchies. Join a bowling club, ruin a bowling club. Join a WOW raid, ruin a WOW raid. They aren’t playing to do what the club is meant to do, they are playing to compete for the attention of men, in spite of, and in opposition to, the purpose of the club.

While one woman may hobby at using the club to practice her social control, two women can destroy it because they now have their fist fight in the sandbox. They are fighting over who can wrangle social control of the club for status sake, not the sake of the club. I’m sure everyone had a friend group growing up that had a woman get in between them. If not there’s about a million stories movies and TV shows I’m sure can explain it to you, or an uncle you can ask.

What’s in it for me?

In the end this is great and all, but what good is it outside of reading and infotainment?

Read more

Can I call you dude? Do we have a ‘dude relationship’? You know, that kind of dude-at-the-next-urinal relationship where I can tell you something, one dude to another, without the bullshit? Will you trust me -- just for the next couple of paragraphs -- to give you the straight shit? I don’t know you, you don’t know me, we’re just a couple of dudes, both doing our thing, and I have no vested interest in your relationship.

I’m just a dude. Like you. So, if you have a few minutes, let me lay some cosmic wisdom on you. But let me distract you with an image of a tastefully sexy girl doing something refreshingly domestic to maintain your attention, first.

Did that help you focus? I thought it might. After all, we’re both dudes.
If you are reading this, it is because your wife, girlfriend, best friend, brother-in-law, sister, or someone else close to you, who both cares for you and who has a good working knowledge of your relationship (and who may have used a dummy e-mail address), thinks that it would benefit you to read this particular blog post on this particular blog. Why? It could be any number of reasons, but let’s assume that a good friend who doesn’t want to be gauche enough to say it to your face thinks you and your relationship would benefit from the following piece of advice:

You’re doing it wrong.

That is, the relationship/marriage you are in, which at casual inspection seems “perfectly fine”, is suffering, and someone you know can see that. That may come as a shock to you, or it may not. Why is it suffering? More than likely, the root of the problem is the fact that you aren’t being All That You Can Be in the whole manhood department.

Whoa! Don’t freak out -- this is (probably) not a prelude to divorce or a relationship ultimatum. This is a gentle reminder, a casual hint, a wink-wink-nudge-nudge dude, you need to pay attention to this! sort of thing. The relationship that you think is so stable and mutually beneficial and strong? Someone thinks that it could be better. Someone thinks that you would benefit from learning something important about your relationship that, perhaps, you just weren’t aware of.

You’re doing it wrong -- but it’s really not your fault. I mean, how could it be? People have been telling you how you’re supposed to be doing it for years -- but they were wrong, and so now you’re doing it wrong.

You see, when you got into your relationship with your current woman, she was HOT for you. I mean, when she thought about you, her stomach flip-flopped, her eyes got all dreamy, her ladyparts got all dewy, and there was nothing -- nothing --that she thought about more than you.

But . . . well, it’s been awhile, and while you’re still a perfectly good dude -- don’t get me wrong, in places you probably border on greatness -- there’s this one area where you’re just not quite getting the job done.

It’s actually not one certain thing -- it’s a bunch of related things, but they all come down to you needing to step-up, “man up”, grow a pair, and quit acting like such a pussy when it comes to your woman.

Seriously -- it pains me to say it, but that’s the fact, Jack. You wouldn’t be reading this otherwise. When your woman does something, wants something, says something . . . you fold like a cheap card table and do your damnedest to make it happen, no matter how difficult or unreasonable. You’re whipped. Maybe not even in an obvious way, but it’s there. Everyone knows who’s in charge of your household, your relationship. Even your woman -- and it’s killing her.

No, really. Every time she gives you an unreasonable ultimatum and you don’t call her on it, her love for you dies a little. Every time you kiss her ass so that she’ll like you, despite what she says, the opposite is true. Believe it or not, she likes it when you show some backbone. In fact, that makes her panties wet -- and when was THAT ever a bad thing?

The truth is, YOU used to make her panties wet, just by being you. And that was great -- really. The infatuation, the courtship, the maelstrom of feelings that compelled you to go after this particular girl, she felt it too. It wasn’t fake. It wasn’t your imagination. You had a real connection, some chemistry. You were a manly man, and she found great value in that.

Only now . . . not so much.

Oh, sure, she still likes you. She even loves you. But is she breathlessly checking her phone every five minutes to see if you’ve texted? Is she still making mistakes at work because she’s thinking about you? Of course not. You’re past that point now, aren’t you? You’re in the comfortable part of the relationship, when you can both just “be”, without pretense or illusion or obfuscation. She can “get to know the real you” and appreciate and love you just for being you. And she is. Only . . .

. . . well, you know that infatuation stage? It’s amazing, isn’t it? You’ve probably been coasting along on the strength of that for years -- if you’re married, certainly since your wedding day, haven’t you? And that’s cool -- you aren’t a kid anymore.

But now you have to keep in mind that the woman who made you giddy with desire the moment someone mentioned her name is also remembering those times fondly, and she’s wondering where the fuck they went? I mean, things have been fine, sure . . . but things have been “fine”. Maybe even a little friction, a fight, a “discussion”, something . . . but the fact is, “fine” isn’t what she signed up for. She signed up for “amazing”, and she’s dealing with “fine”, but the first time she see’s “amazing”, you have to wonder . . . is she going to be happy enough with “fine” to not even consider pursuing “amazing”? How about the second time? The third?

Dude, not trying to scare you here, just trying to give you a clue. Your woman, whether she knows it or not, whether she’s the one who sent you here or not, your woman wants you to step up and take charge. She wants you to lead her. She wants to be in awe of your masculinity. She wants to gush to her girlfriends -- not about the manly way you take out the trash or pick up her dry-cleaning, but how you dazzle her on a daily basis with your wit and charm. She wants to feel the chemistry that attracted her to you in the first place. But she can’t say that. It sucks, but the fact is, if she has to ask you to take charge, then you aren’t really “taking charge”.

She can’t give you permission to take the lead. You have to just take it, on your own initiative, or it doesn’t count. Forget for a moment whether or not she’s going to get pissed off, because if you do it right, she just might be a little pissed off at first -- and that’s not a bad thing. You have to understand that, that’s essential: you may have to piss her off a little to keep her engaged in the relationship. Why? Because, to paraphrase Feris Bueller, “you just can’t respect a man who kisses your ass all the time”.

And you’re getting dangerously close, Dude, or you wouldn’t be reading this.

Let’s pause for a moment, look at another sexy, tastefully erotic picture of a pretty girl, and marshal our resources before we move on.

It’s not a lost cause -- there’s still some time to turn things around before someone does or says something stupid and things get fucked up. Nobody wants that. All you need it step up your game a bit, take command, and start remembering who the fuck you were before you started being blinded by her puss--- ah, her femininity.

That’s key: finding the masculine Dude in your soul. The Dude who once looked across the room, sized her up, and said, “yeah, that’s worth hitting”, and you went for it. That’s the dude she wants to see. The dude who struts, who thinks he’s hot shit. The dude you were before you met her.

So show a little backbone in the future. If you aren’t having sex with her at least once every five days or so (that’s six times a month, for you liberal arts majors) then she’s probably not really intrigued with you the way that’s ideal. If you aren’t kissing her at least once or twice a day -- not a bullshit peck on the cheek, but a sudden, come-from-behind, press her against the wall, and plant a good ten-second smooch with tongue and dry humping and hard nipples, then you’re doing it wrong. If you aren’t the dude all of her girlfriends want to sleep with in a moment of drunken weakness, then you’re doing it wrong. If you walk across the room naked, fresh from the shower and Mr. Happy bouncing around in front of her and she doesn’t at least look up and bite her lip . . . you’re doing it wrong.

Look, I know it’s not all you. You got complacent, she got complacent. You both relaxed into a mutual comfort zone while you enjoyed the emerging fruits of your relationship, and . . . stuff just sort of slipped away. On your side, you probably aren’t getting laid as much as you like, and when you do get laid it’s nothing to blog anonymously about. Hell, you might be whacking off more now than when you met her. She’s just not responding to you the way she used to, but you’ve just . . . accepted that.

And that sucks. Because both of you want essentially the same thing, you just don’t know how to go about it. You’ve been told for your entire life about how you need to respect women, listen to women, treat women as equals. And that’s great, as far as it goes, but when it comes to your relationship, believe it or not, your woman doesn’t want you to treat her as an equal when it comes to certain aspects of your relationship. She wants you to be strong, firm, and decisive. She wants you to know what you want, and go after it -- even if she doesn’t approve. She wants you to be the dude every chick in the room wants to bang, but the one she’s lucky enough to be going home with.

That’s a tall order, I know. I mean, how do you go from “I respect you too much to do that” to “Hell, yeah, I want a blowjob baby!” without sounding like a complete idiot? The fact is, it isn’t easy -- at first. But either is realizing that your woman’s panties don’t get wet because of your decent job and neatly-trimmed yard, your willingness to watch chick flicks or buy tampons for her. All the things you’ve been doing for her so she’ll like you enough to fuck you, those are BETA skills, and while they’re important for a long term relationship . . . well, Betas don’t get much play. Nice guys don’t get wildly fucked by passionate women.

This looks like another good spot for a Pretty Girl break. Just bear with me . . . we’re almost done.

Now that’s how they did it in Grandad’s day!
And that’s something to consider, as well: your grandfather likely had an entirely different take on how to manage his relationship than you do -- and while the rules of the game have changed dramatically since then, the players -- men and women -- still desire the same basic things. Your grandad knew how to handle himself around women back then, and it wasn’t by kissing their asses. You don’t have to completely dick out -- don’t get me wrong. But here are a few things that your granddad probably would tell you that you need to change, and right now:
Don’t apologize unless you are genuinely at fault, or there is a dead animal involved. Seriously, if she has a bad day at work, don’t say “I’m sorry you had a bad day”. Say “that really sucks, baby. Why don’t you tell me the high points, and then we can take steps to help you forget about it?”
When she makes an inherently unreasonable request -- say, calling you from across the house to hand her a pair of scissors that’s less than four feet away -- then refuse to do it on general principal. I mean, if you don’t value your time enough to get upset when she pulls some unreasonably flaky shit like that, then what’s stopping her from doing that all the time. . . and loving you a little less for how willing you are to kiss her ass? You have to respect yourself before she can respect you, and if you’re kissing her ass all the time in the remote hope for pussy, then that demonstrates a lack of self-respect.
Sure, every woman wants a devoted man in her life, but they don’t want to be in a relationship with a pussy. Being devoted means that you bring her flowers unexpectedly, you check her oil without being asked, and you’d rather take her out on Saturday night than any other girl in town . . . not that you wait on her hand-and-foot and make her every desire manifest.
Seriously, Dude, even if you’ve invested heavily in the “equality” meme, then recognize that you two can’t even be equals if you’re deferring to her constantly. Tell her NO when she makes an unreasonable suggestion. No elaboration, no “I’m sorry, Honey, but . . . “, just tell her “no, that doesn’t work for me.” Put yourself back into the equation of your own relationship. She’s not going to give you permission to disagree with her -- that defeats the purpose.
Here’s something you need to try out: be decisive. You know what kills your chances of nookie probably more than anything else? The words, “I don’t know, Honey, whatever you want to do is fine.” That’s it. Sure, you’re trying to be deferent and considerate, putting her needs, wants and desires before yours, out of your deep and abiding respect for the dignity of her womanhood blah, blah, blah, but the simple fact of the matter is that she wants you to take a fucking stand and tell her where you want to go -- no equivocation, no second-guessing, no picking what you think she wants. Just. Pick. A. Fucking. Restaurant. Seriously.
And don’t just hesitantly pick it -- when she asks you “so where do you want to eat tonight?” you tell her “I want Golden Corral tonight. I’ll meet you there at 7:30. Order me a Coke if you get there first.” Done and done. Don’t worry about picking the “wrong” choice -- be a man and take the risk. In fact, when it comes to your relationship it’s far, far more important to be certain than it is to be right. Really. Trust me on this. Take a stand and stick by it.
What if she doesn’t like it? Tell her, “well, can you make a compelling argument for that decision?” and then shut up and let her talk. Give her an opportunity to persuade you, instead of direct you. Put the issue in doubt, and if she feels strongly enough about it, she’ll speak up. She’s not your mother, and she hates feeling like your mother. She really wants you to be the Man, in that rugged, traditional, rugged and determined sort of way, despite what you may have heard her say to the contrary. She wants you to be a Rock Solid Authority -- but open to her suggestions. Hell, if you really do have no opinion on the matter, pick something at random and defend it dickishly until she does persuade you. Make her work for it a little. Don’t over-do it, but nothing says “dry panties” like “I dunno, whatever you want is fine, I guess.”
And that brings us to the subject of the sex . . . yes, you like that part! I bet that got your attention! Sex was like, one of the best things about your woman, back when you met her, remember? You LOVED the sex. So does she, at least theoretically. But can you honestly say that your sex life now is as hot as it was when you first met?
How about another girly pic while you’re considering that question:

Sound familiar? Sound depressing?
Or does it actually sound a lot better than things actually are?
Let me tell you about something my father told me about: the Penny Jar.
When a young man marries a woman, for the first year of their marriage he should quietly put a penny in a jar on his dresser for every time he and his new bride make love. Then, after their first anniversary, he should start taking a penny out of the jar every time they have sex.
If you have a typical Blue Pill marriage . . . the jar never gets emptied.
(”Blue Pill”? That’s a Manosphere expression that means “the idealistic and mistaken way you think things work; illusion”, like in the Matrix (the good one). “Red Pill” means “the pragmatic way things actually work.“ We use this term usually in connection with relationships and over-all male-female gender relations. And if someone sent you a link to this blog post, then someone thinks you have a typical Blue Pill marriage. Your Penny Jar, in other words, will never get emptied.)
Why? It’s pretty simple, actually -- all that bold shit you did to attract your woman and persuade her to get humpity with her in the first place? That went away once you and she started being “serious”. It’s not entirely her fault -- the fact is, you wanted to “make her happy” and so you started doing whatever you thought she wanted you do so she would still hump you silly. Only . . . well, all that nice stuff you did to make her feel comfortable and happy also made her . . . well, kinda bored.
God, she’d never say anything -- maybe send her dude a link via anonymous email account, at the most -- but she’d never want to hurt his feelings by telling him that he’s not, y’know, the Man. That would be awful -- even she knows that! And maybe she’s dropped a few hints you haven’t picked up on, but the end result is the same . . . Dude, you really need to step it up.
And that goes for the bedroom, too. Quit being so . . . gentle. I mean, she’s already decided to screw you -- you don’t have to worry about her scampering off (unless you try to surprise her with something . . . y’know, too kinky without prior notice). So if she’s there, she’s ready, she’s naked, as soon as you think it’s right you get on top of her and you go CONAN on her ass. Do her like it’s the night before your four-year prison sentence begins. Do her like they’re revoking your cock for thirty days. Do her like you fucking mean it . . . because if you don’t, then she thinks you don’t. And that’s never a good thing.
Another babe, while you think about that:

Consider, Dude: what’s the most popular book on Amazon.com? It’s not “How to gently make love to your lady wife”, it’s 50 Shades of Grey -- and if you haven’t been paying attention, this little trilogy of mommy porn books isn’t filled with tender moments and hand-holding . . . it’s filled with raw, poorly-written, highly unlikely emotionally charged Bondage & Discipline and Sado-masochistic sex between a dark and handsome billionaire (of course) and his sweetly submissive -- I mean, pathologically submissive -- beautiful college student chew toy. The “tender moments” usually involve neckties and spanking. There is a lot of really raunchy, poorly-written sex. Believe me, I write erotica, and the sales of this book are not based on its literary merit.
But this thing is selling like batteries at a convent -- so the idea that your woman wants gentle, mutually-pleasurable, overly-consensual sex all the time is crap. If current marketing trends are any indication (and when are they not?) then there is a deep, often-hidden vein of submission within the soul of the American woman that is screaming to get out. There is a part of her that wants to feel owned, possessed, commanded -- and if you aren’t the commander, someone else eventually will be. Pay attention to what she does, not what she says, and you’ll start tuning into just how much she wants you to -- occasionally -- just throw her on the bed and rip her clothes off. Heck, get some neckties from Goodwill and go all-out. The point is, she’s fucking bored with the way you’re doing it, and if she doesn’t get interested soon, there’s no telling
Of course there’s a lot more to it than that. If light bondage and a few extra grunts were enough to fix the problem, then it would be easy. But it’s not. What you need to do is TAKE CONTROL of your life, and your relationship, before you find it out of control. You can’t do that with a few casual tricks. It takes dedication, willpower, courage and devotion to the idea that you -- yes, you, Dude! -- are a masculine prize worthy of contention, a champion striding the earth, the Captain of your own destiny . . . and she is with you because of that, not because of how sharp the lawn looks this week.
Time for another picture. Focus:

So wake up, Dude. Someone is trying to tell you something. You’re doing it wrong, and now is the time to correct your course, before you steer into the iceberg. You need to seriously look at your relationship and decide whether or not you are an “equal partner” in all things, or if you are the Man who takes charge, gets things done, and appeals to his woman on the basis of his masculinity, not his income potential. Don’t be the dude who finds himself listening to his wife tell him “You know, this just isn’t working out. I’m just not happy” a few years down the road.
Oh, sure, that would never happen to you and your devoted woman . . . but I could list a hundred guys off the top of my head who thought the same thing, and ended up single because of it.
There are resources out there to help you -- a collection of blogs and discussion groups known as the Manosphere, filled with your fellow dudes trying to work this shit out just like you are. There are tons of places where you can learn how to manage your woman and your relationship in a way that will benefit you both in the long run. You can learn how to handle her emotional outbursts, interpret what she’s saying, and learn how to appeal to her sexually without resorting to expensive gifts or whining. You should, of course, take much of what you find in the Manosphere with a grain of salt, because all of these dudes have slightly different issues than you do, so their solutions might work for them but not for you. But on the other hand, there are lots of dudes who have tons of insight on how the female mind works. Really works, that is, not how they want us to think it works. That’s one of the points of the Manosphere, to help you learn how to deal with the woman in your life without considering the benefits of the monastic life. We’re here to help.
But even if you don’t want to jump into the deep end of the Manosphere yet, you need to realize that someone thought you were doing it wrong, and needed a “word to the wise”. So consider it given. You might not get another. Believe it or not, this isn’t a slam -- there are plenty of dudes in your boat. And there’s still hope, and room to fix it. Just don’t ignore it.
One last picture, to kind of clean up:

Don’t forget to flush.

Rian here. Welcome, there’s a lot more for you too, from self actualization to sexual strategy. Start here

Frame

Dread

Part I

Greetings, everybody. Welcome to the red pill. We’ve got almost a hundred subscribers, in exactly two weeks! This is incredible.

Why have we grown so quickly?

Because there’s truth in the red pill. Because men are realizing that the sexual marketplace has shifted away from what we’ve been taught. Men who grew up over thirty years ago are discovering the world has changed. Men who are still growing up- from the 80s, 90s, and even the last decade, they’re starting to realize that what their parents taught them, what television and chick flicks taught them, what church and sunday school taught them... it’s all wrong.

Our culture has become a feminist culture. A president cannot be elected today without succumbing to the feminist narrative and paying them tribute. How many times has Obama given credit for his manhood to his wife? How many times has the debate hinged on women’s pay gap - which is a myth that gets lip service because if you don’t you’re a misogynist!

I’m not here to parade the concepts of Men’s Rights- nor am I here to discuss self-improvement tips that /r/seduction now purports are to make you a better man, not get laid more often.

I am here to say, for better or for worse, the frame around public discourse is a feminist frame, and we’ve lost our identity because of it.

But this isn’t the end of the world. The world is changing, but men are still part of it. We just need to make sure we’re changing with it.

It’s too easy to blame feminism for our troubles.

Men, our happiness is our responsibility. Culture has always shifted, it’s dynamic and fluid. It has never and will never stay still.

Feminism was inevitable. Equal rights are something I strongly am in support of. For men and women.

Women have the right to pursue happiness. Nobody should tell them otherwise. Maximizing happiness is the goal of every living creature on this planet.

Men, we need to recognize that since women are rightfully seeking out happiness, evolutionary psychology is more relevant today than ever in the past century. (and possibly longer). We no longer run the show. And I, for one, don’t disagree that marriage had to change if we were to see equal rights.

But now it’s time to get serious and realize that our strategy needs to change. Feminism is a sexual strategy. It puts women into the best position they can find, to select mates, to determine when they want to switch mates, to locate the best dna possible, and to garner the most resources they can individually achieve.

The Red Pill is men’s sexual strategy. Reality is happening, and we need to make sure that we adjust our strategy accordingly.

Welcome to the red pill. It’s a difficult pill to swallow, understanding that everything you were taught, everything you were lead to believe is a lie. But once you learn it, internalize it, and start living your new life, it gets better.

As an introduction to the topic, I want to outline what our focus is here at /r/theredpill.

Mastering Game

Game is an important portion of a sexual strategy. A lot of you probably came here from /r/seduction and are probably wondering why we’d need a new subreddit if one dedicated to game already exists. The reason is simple: Game is a facet of The Red Pill’s sexual strategy. Determining good game is impossible to do so without first understanding the context given by The Red Pill’s framework. Something I keep seeing over on the seduction subreddit is a problem taking over most relationship and sex forums: the desire to feminize the discussion (basically making it sound politically correct if read by a female).

Yes, game got a bad reputation from girls who demonize manipulation. This is because game is an effective strategy against their own sexual strategy. I believe women’s opposition to game can be attributed to the unconscious factors in women’s sexual strategy Please do read Schedules of Mating

When women started becoming vocal about their opposition to game, that’s when men decided it would be necessary to make game more politically correct. “Oh, we’re not here to manipulate women to have sex with us- we’re here to become better men!”

And thus, the female imperative took over game. When men think they must define their own sexual strategy in a way that best delivers results to the female sexual strategy, you know your own strategy will suffer! In a game of chess, do I politely not take out the oppositions’ queen in hopes not to offend or win the game?

Defining the Strategy

Because of the necessity to have good game, we must define what good game is. A large portion of Red Pill discussion revolves around evolutionary psychology. Understanding the facets of this psychology are key to developing a good sexual strategy. Because this strategy is useful not only in gaining the attention of the opposite sex, but continuing relationships, having children, and maximizing your own happiness throughout life, I’m going to argue that defining the strategy outside of just “good game” is an important facet of Red Pill Discussion.

Acknowledging Reality

Finally, I think our focus should always remain on ensuring that we challenge the reality we perceive and discuss precisely and objectively whether or not our beliefs line up with the testable results we can replicate. I am a firm believer that potential success can only be maximized by maximizing your knowledge of the factors surrounding your success. Keeping your eyes closed and ignoring evidence and facts will not benefit you. Opening your eyes and acknowledging everything no matter how good, bad, or painful it may seem, is instrumental in making decisions that will lead to the happiest, most successful outcomes.

I’m going to discuss briefly what my intention is for this subreddit.

I’m Desmond, and I’ve been active in both the Men’s Rights and the Seduction subreddits. They’re both wildly popular subs, but both have major failings that I’ve slowly identified. They both operate subtly under the feminist imperative. Group-think at both tend to fail to grok the importance of coming to terms with objective reality - something the manosphere has termed “taking the red pill.”

I haven’t seen serious discussion on sexual strategy that goes beyond the pickup.

We’ve heard the common trope in many men’s subreddits: “Not all women are like that”

That’s true. Don’t get me wrong. But something it undermines is honest discussion about evolutionary psychology, and society in terms of what a sexual life is like for a man.

“How is that?” I hear you ask. It’s simple. Let’s describe a problem. Let’s say, for example, When I shower my girlfriend with gifts, she breaks up with me or cheats on me.

The men’s rights approach: She was a bad egg, find a better one.

The seduction approach: You were displaying unattractive qualities, no shit she left you.

Ok, score one for seddit.

But wait- Let’s say I game properly, and maintain an alpha stance, and keep my girlfriend in my frame. We eventually get married and have kids. She later divorces me and takes everything I’ve got.

The men’s rights approach: The law is against you.

The seduction approach: She was a bad egg, find a better one.

Who scores this time? I argue neither. I argue that love is the myth here- more on that later. But it’s important to note, in neither scenario was there decent advice to actually move forward in my life. Both ignore the systematic issues that present themselves in relationships, they ignore the reality of psychology, the reality of the law, and the reality of men and women and their subtleties.

Both subreddits appear to still be operating within the frame that feminism put forward. That the one for you is just around the corner, and that courting can work, just so long as you find her and know game.

It’s false, and disingenuous.

Let’s open discussion here. Let’s talk about exactly what it means to be a sexual man in the era of feminism. How do we fulfill our needs sexually? Emotionally? How do we do so without taking unnecessary risks?

In a culture where the only thing standing between you and prison is whether the last girl you fucked decides to lie about rape, these are REAL questions that I think are being ignored.

Welcome.

Part II