Beautiful Mess

multicolored smoke

Here we are again, you and I. Which means I’m writing and you’re reading. I’ve spoken at some length about morality and my own take on it. Jack Napier and I talked about it too, on one of our Red Evenings.

I realize now what it is about so-called morality that really bugs me. It isn’t that your morality is different from mine. As far as I’m concerned, to each their own. You do your thing, just let me do mine. You don’t have to agree with how I choose to live my life, you don’t have to like it, and you don’t really even have to accept it. But please, don’t try and shove or enforce your morality upon me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.

I grew up in a home where my Mother was a master at guilt and shame. When I was little and needed discipline, she tried spanking initially. Apparently that didn’t go over too well with me. As she once told me, “I put you over my knee, spanked you, you cried, and then you gave me a look that basically said, ‘C’mon, do it again, give me another.'” I guess I had a look of defiance in my eyes. I don’t remember this incident, so maybe it happened, maybe it didn’t. I’ll just take her word that it did.

She then moved on from spanking to “time out” or “grounding.” Those I remember. Not really a punishment in my book, as being told to “go to your room,” wasn’t a bad thing. That’s where all my stuff was and in all honesty, it’s where I preferred being for the most part. Oh, she realized fairly quick that sending me to my room wasn’t the punishment that she thought it was, and so she would take things away so that I could utilize or interact with them. Still wasn’t a big deal to me. Having a strong and powerful imagination does wonders. I could literally sit and stare at a wall and entertain myself. Still can to this day if I so desire.

On a side note: on a few of the occasions that I was grounded, like during the summer, and I wanted to go outside, but wasn’t supposed to, all I had to do was “help” Mom around the house. A few “accidents” where plates and glassware ended up broken while doing the dishes, or getting under foot while she was vacuuming or dusting, and she would get exasperated with me and tell me to go outside. Think brier rabbit and the brier patch.

But sure enough, she found my Achille’s heel. Enter guilt and shame. All she would have to do is say something like, “Look what you did. You hurt Mommy really bad when you did that.” It was all over from there. A couple of tears from her, a few well placed words and I was done for.

And that shit went on for years. She got so good at it, it became second nature to her. I don’t think she was even aware that she was doing it after awhile. I don’t hold it against her, well, not much at least. It was one of the major reasons that I minimized my exposure to her as I got older and got on with my life. I didn’t want or need to hear that shit anymore.

My tolerance for guilt and shame is at an all time low these days. I barely tolerated it from my own Mother, and at least my Dad doesn’t pull that shit with me. I barely tolerated it from my own blood, why in the hell would I even dream of tolerating it from someone not even related to me? Why would I even consider it for one second of one moment from a complete stranger?

Feminists and white knights do this tactic all the time on Men. I’ve seen it so often that it doesn’t even faze me anymore. It’s expected. It’s what they do. I just shake my head, roll my eyes, laugh, ignore, and move on. But when it comes from people who claim to be “on your side,” that’s when I take issue.

I used to be very liberal when I was younger, hell, once upon a time, I considered myself a Democrat and voted that way for the most part. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve found myself a lot more moderate, and even conservative in many of my views. Not necessarily a full on Republican, but definitely more Libertarian in my political views.

It’s the Traditional Conservatives that I seem to have a love-hate relationship with these days, and it’s because they dress like me, talk like me, act like me, and have very similar views as me. And then they start with the guilt and shame. They are no better than the feminists that they claim to despise. In fact, they are just the other side of the same coin. Same tactics, guilt, and shame. They just tend to dress better, tend to look better, and tend to be healthier in their weight and diet. Otherwise, there is not much difference between them and the feminists. Just better looking women is all.

If you are using guilt and shame, especially when it comes to what I do in the privacy of my own home and bedroom, you have the problem, not me. What I do behind closed doors is none of your business.

Trying to whitewash sexuality isn’t going to work bud. Trying to sanitize and diminish the sexual libido will only intensify it. While you wail that “PUA’s” and “men of low repute” are “spoiling your women” for you, understand this:

Your women are just women. Nothing more and nothing less. They are human beings full of desires and emotions. Trying to control that through guilt and shame, for them and for other men, is just going to backfire and blow up in your face eventually. All they are going to do is take those desires and hide them from you. Then they will find someone like me, who will accept their desires as normal and natural, and I will listen to them. I won’t judge them for what they yearn for. All I will do is accept it for what it is, and then become the invitation for them to act on those desires if they so choose.

I don’t know how someone cannot or will not appreciate an earthy, lusty woman. Someone who is fully embracing her sexuality and her desires and has no fear of showing them. All of the women I meet show me this side of them, eventually. Definitely sooner rather than later, and I love that about them. And no, these aren’t the “empowered, multicolored hair, don’t shave the pits, but shaves the side of the head, with a million piercings and tats” women. These are the girls next door. These are the so-called “sunhat gods.” These are the women who dress modestly, at least for you. These are the “fresh as a summer breeze, smells nice, and sits in a pew on Sunday,” women. These are the women that you want to “wife up.” These are the women that you wait six months before having sex with. These are the women that you marry.

All Women Are Like That. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

A guy I follow on Twitter, @gospodin_rey, summed it up beautifully:

While you joke about degeneracy, the wild animal soul inside each one of us yearns to break out of the cage we put it in. And our giving permission to women and the world around us, to live true to the animal soul, is addictive and beautiful, key to the human experience.

But once you let the animal out, it is by definition… wild. And most people aren’t built for the jungle. We’re all trying to figure this crazy world out. We’re in a jungle whether we like it or not.

We are a sweaty, smelly, emotional, hormonal, lusty, angry, cranky, beautiful mess. Ignore and deny this at your own peril. Downplay it to your own dissatisfaction. Accept this for what it is and work with it, or perish on your platitudes. The choice is yours.

Welcome to the Jungle.

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Authenticity and Anonymity

photo of guy fawkes mask with red flower on top on hand

I’m sitting here drinking my third beer of the day and it’s already afternoon. Yeah you can’t drink all day if you don’t start drinking in the morning. I’ve been thinking about recent developments with the guys that I associate with online. What a bunch of magnificent bastards, each and every one of them. The funny thing is, most of them are totally anonymous. At least to the common masses and the riff raff. And yet they are some of the most authentic and genuine people that I’ve had the pleasure to get to know and interact with.

I know I’ve touched on anonymity before, so I’m not going to beat that dead horse too much. I do have to say that these guys that are running full-on anonymous, not only do they say what’s on their mind, they have to be some of the most authentic guys I’ve met. Way more authentic than some of the other accounts and people that I’ve followed who choose to show their faces and put their names out there.

I keep thinking about a post that TJ Martinell wrote for Masculine Geek. He titled it, “Authenticity Is The Future Coin Of The Realm.” I keep coming back to this post that he wrote, it’s like a piece of food stuck in my teeth, a “thorn in my side,” if you will. Not because what he wrote about isn’t true, but because it is true. The more technology advances and evolves, the easier it is for us to connect with one another, but it’s also easier to lie about who and what we are, and therein lies the problem.

We are social creatures looking for connection. Whether it be shooting the shit, expressing varied ideas, or looking to meet up with someone in real life and go out, have a drink, eat some food, and ultimately, hopefully, hop in the sack with someone and share ourselves sexually with them, it’s what we do.

Authenticity is what we ultimately seek I think. We want “something that is real.” I know I do. It doesn’t matter what form that connection is, but I want it to be “real.” To be genuine. To be authentic. I want to know that the people that I’m dealing with are indeed who they say they are, that they are expressing themselves however they do, but that they are indeed expressing who they actually are. Differences of opinion and moralities are fine by me, I’m not looking for an echo chamber or a clone of myself. I’m looking for you to be you, raw, warts and all.

You guys have no idea how frustrating it is for me to have all these thoughts and ideas swirling around in my head like a tornado, all screaming to be let out at the same time, and for me to try and get them all down here, and to hopefully have them make some sort of sense and have some sort of coherency. I worry more about, “do you fucking understand what I’m trying to say here?” than anything else. I can’t even begin to type fast enough to get this all out.

Hey techno-creator guys, it would be great if you could create an app or something that would literally be able to read my thoughts and spit them out here as fast as they show up for me, and to have them make some sort of sense. Could you get on that for me? I promise you, I’ll buy it if you do.

Anyways, back to anonymity. I’ve found an app or a site, I’m not really sure what it is to be exact. It’s both, but it’s not either really. It’s about as anonymous as you can get on the interwebs though. It’s become my guilty pleasure. I’m watching people say shit, under the guise of total anonymity, and they are being raw and real. All their dirty little secrets, all their hopes, dreams, and desires, all on public display. And the replies. Oh the replies. And then there is the private chats….

All these people saying what’s truly on their minds, because nobody knows who they really are. It’s messy. It’s sweaty. It’s high drama sometimes. It’s fucking brutal. And it’s who we are. We aren’t all clean, spotless, and shiny. We are a beautiful fucking mess. We swear, we fear, we attack sometimes. We smell. We sweat, and we are insecure. It’s all out there in full glory on display. And I love it.

I’m quasi-anonymous in the respect that I don’t reveal my exact location or my last name. My last name is so common though, that if anyone was to want to look for me, it would be like looking for a needle in a stack of needles. I put my real first name and my face out there though as a way of showing my authenticity. It’s also a form of exhibitionism I guess. I like having it out there. Maybe it’s a throwback to my younger days when I played guitar and had a band.

What’s the name of this app and/or site? First rule of fightclub is…

I’ve probably already said too much about it. I don’t know why I’m being possessive about it, but I am. Maybe if you are in my “inner circle,” I’ll let you know what I’m talking about and where it is, but for the common riff raff, nah. Figure it out for yourselves.

Here’s the question of the day for you:

How do we know when someone is being authentic? TJ talked about it in his essay. Did you read it?

The truth is, authenticity is something that has to happen over time. I think this is what the guys are talking about when they talking about “vetting.” It takes time to verify if someone is being authentic or not.

I strive for authenticity in myself because it is what I would like from others. What you see on my YouTube channel is who I am. It’s pretty much the same and consistent when I’m on Masculine Geek. It’s also who I am when I’m doing Red Evenings with Jack Napier. You’ll also see it show up on Twitter. I’m a clown sometimes. I’m an ass sometimes. I’m probably the guy, that when it comes down to it, I’m probably the poster boy of what NOT to do if you want to do better in your life. And yes, that was a shameless plug for all the things that I’m currently involved in.

You want to see Men being authentic? Go watch this video, and this video, for starts. That’s guys being authentic.

What’s the takeaway from this ramble? Be authentic. Whatever that is, be that. Be the Villain. Be an asshole. Be the serious guy if that’s you. Be the clown. Be whatever it is, but just be authentic. Even if you choose anonymity, be authentic. It works out better for you if you do.

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Yup, it’s me.

I’ve said it before in a few different broadcasts on YouTube, I’ve even mentioned it in other posts. I’ve even made it part of my bio on Twitter.

You’re going to be the Villain in somebody’s story. Get used to it.

For most of my life, I’ve tried to avoid this fact. I’ve done things and acted in certain ways all in order to avoid being the villain in somebody’s story. I wanted to be the “good guy.” I wanted to be the “hero.” And even in some cases, I wanted to be the “savior.”

I’ve had to realize and accept the fact that I’m going to be the villain in somebody’s story, at least for a period of time, and that’s okay.

Guys, anytime you do something for you, you run the risk of pissing somebody off. You run the risk of offending them. You run the risk of them getting angry with you. It’s unavoidable. Sure, you can go most of your life without rocking the boat, or making waves, but you’ll end up living a life that isn’t your own. It’ll be somebody else’s life that they wanted or that they envisioned for you. And I promise you, it will be a miserable life if you choose it. That life leads to all sorts of problems for you down the road. I think that’s how many people end up as alcoholics and addicted to different drugs. Gotta medicate that pain away because you aren’t living the way that you really want to.

I think that’s how many people end up in a “mid-life crisis.” You do what’s expected of you for so long until you can’t stand it anymore, and then you “go off the deep end” and end up doing the things you always wanted to do anyways.

One of the ultimate things that living a life that isn’t yours, is that you don’t know who you are, or you do, but you think you can’t do anything about it. And it tears and eats at you on a daily basis. I call this “punching yourself in the face.” I did it for most of the duration of my marriage, punched myself in the face. I did what I thought was expected of me and ended up numb for the most part, and miserable at the end. I knew I wanted more, but I didn’t want to be the villain. So I had a choice, become the villain or take my own life. You can see the choice I made.

I think the refusal to be the villain can lead to suicide too.

Being the villain isn’t the same thing as being evil. Being the villain just means you live your life on your own terms, no matter how much you rock the boat, no matter how much you disappoint people, and no matter how much they get pissed off at you. As far as I’m concerned, if you are pissing people off, you’re doing it right. That’s a good barometer.

When I was a child, I would watch all sorts of TV shows and movies, and I would find myself rooting for the villain. The villain to me was far more interesting and dynamic than the hero. There usually was some sort of backstory where you got to see where the villain came from, and where they were going. Sometimes they were redeemed, other times not so much. The villain always had some sort of mission, whether it was world domination, absolute power, or even seduction. Whatever it was, the villain was more “real” to me, more fleshed out for the most part. I had more investment and interest in the villain than I ever did for the hero.

Which leads me to this thought:

It’s your life. You are the main character in it. It’s your show, your rules. You can be the hero in your own story, and why shouldn’t you be? But you’re going to be the villain in somebody else’s story and you need to accept that and get used to it. If you’re going to be the villain, why not be the best villain you can be? Own that shit. I do.

I’m not advocating criminality here, or anything illegal. That’s on you if you decide to go that route. Responsibility to the responsible. But if you are going to be the villain, you might as well own it and be the best villain you can be. Relish it, cherish it. Thank whoever made you the villain. After all, without a villain, you don’t have much of a story. At least not one that is worth telling and savoring.

A parting thought:

What is our fascination with villains? Jesse James. Darth Vader. The Joker. It seems that western culture throughout the years has celebrated the villain, even if secretly. So why not be willing to be the villain? Why not own it when it happens? Why not be good with it? Chicks dig “bad boys” and assholes right? And what are they really? They are the villain in somebody’s story. Maybe it’s an ex-girlfriend’s or an ex-wife’s story. Maybe it’s someone in your own story. If there are a great many people out there who celebrate the villain in one way or another, why not be the villain so that they can celebrate you too?

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