Women, Relationships, And Onions

Women and Relationships

I saw something interesting the other day on Twatter. Some guys I follow happen to follow a different guy who decided to write a blog post about “Investing In Genuine Desire.” What got me interested in trying to read this particular post was some of the replies to the author, this one in particular:

I know I’ve wrote about this before, but I’ll be damned if I can find it at the moment, so I’m going to sum up the most salient points.

Why do women leave? For every woman, or man for that matter, that leaves, they will have a reason that is unique to them and to you. Maybe she left you because you were a fat piece of shit with nothing going on in your life. The next woman left because you lost weight and became a skinny piece of shit. Point is: both left for their own reasons.

The real truth of women leaving is twofold:

1. They left because they wanted to.

2. They left because they could.

End of story. Trying to find out “why” isn’t going to change anything and it isn’t going to prevent a future woman from leaving if she so desires. Trying to mitigate her leaving is putting yourself in her “frame” and it smacks of covert contracts on your part.

If anything, you should be so busy with things in your life that if she leaves, it’s not going to be the end of the world. Sure it will be disappointing, sure it will hurt. That’s normal. You’ll be too busy to be worrying too much about it if it happens though. You have a life right?

Women and relationships are kind of like onions. Sometimes they stink, sometimes they taste really good and add flavor to your life, and sometimes they will make you cry.

They are also like onions in the way that an onion doesn’t have a core. We guys have this fascination with trying to get the “root” or the “core” of the matter. This includes sex, relationships, and everything in between. Hell, I just tried to read an approximately 2000 word essay about “Investing in Genuine Desire.”

I say tried, because I couldn’t finish it. The author is way overthinking things.

“Women are made to be loved, not understood.” – Oscar Wilde

He had a lot of interesting labels and terminology, but when I finally tapped out and cried uncle, it was because he’s peeling back the onion only he’s going to find out that there is no “core.” There is no “truth” to the mystery that he’s created for himself and that he’s trying to unravel.

Keep digging at women to understand them and eventually you will, but you won’t be able to love them anymore. The beauty, the mystery, the chemistry, all of it will be gone. Same goes for relationships. Pick them apart long enough and there will be nothing left in your hands but wisps and ashes.

Ideally, your life should be so full of interesting things to do and to see that you won’t have time to ask questions like what the author was asking. The guy has too much time on his hands if he has time to write a 2000 word essay on “Investing in Genuine Desire.”

If you have the time to sit around and think, “It took her two hours to text me back, so I’ll wait four hours before I text her back.” You have too much time on your hands. I work all day, write blog posts, create and edit videos and do live streams as well as find time to have sex and date. I don’t have time to sit around and wonder why she did or didn’t text me back and why it did or didn’t take “x” amount of time. I’m too fucking busy to worry about that. My girl will text me when she wants and I’ll get back to her when I get the time and get a chance. I’m not worried or thinking about what she is or isn’t doing.

You want to get genuine desire from her? Have a life that is more interesting than hers. That’s it. You don’t have to be “The World’s Most Interesting Man,” you just need to have a life that is more interesting than hers. And have you seen most women today?

Sorry ladies, I’m not trying to shit on you, but most of you don’t have fuck all going on in your lives. Most of you are outright boring. So just be more interesting than she is. That’s it. There’s your “hypergamy switch” for you.

Instead of sitting around overthinking things like you usually do, why not keep it simple, stupid?

Like Oscar Wilde said, “Women are made to be loved, not understood.” So stop trying to understand them and just love them. Enjoy them because they are there. Have fun with them, be fun for them, fuck them, and enjoy your time with them because one day it will be over. It could be that she decides to leave, it could be that you decide to leave, it could be that one of you dies. There’s no guarantees in life that you will outlive or outlast the other.

Have a life that is interesting. If your life is more interesting than hers, she’ll stick around. At least for awhile. Remember, “She’s not yours, it’s just your turn.” And your “turn” could last for 50+ years. Or it could be just one hour of one day.

Stop overthinking things and get a hobby. Ideally you should be too busy to be worrying about if she desires you or not. Your life should be so full that it’s great if she’s there, but it’s fine if she isn’t. Ideally you should be exhausted by the time you fall into bed.

Stop peeling back the layers of the onion because if you do, you’ll find the “truth” is that there is no “core,” no “center,” no “truth,” no “answer.” Just that it is, and now that you’ve peeled it back into oblivion, you’ll have nothing in your hand but shreds and shards of what was.

Stop trying to prevent her from leaving or losing her desire. Stop trying to control and manipulate. You can’t keep her around if she wants to go and if you do it’ll be considered kidnapping. Also, why would you want to be around someone who doesn’t want to be around you? Better to cut your losses and move on.

There’s always more women. Always.

For God’s sake, stop worrying about “investing in her desire and in the relationship and getting her to invest herself into you and into the relationship.” Invest in yourself. Invest in your life.

Stop trying to anticipate and to control and just Let. Go.

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“Jeremy spoke at werr herr herr herrk today.”

“Jeremy” is a guy I work with. He hired on approximately six months ago or so. He’s in his mid-to-late 30’s or maybe even his early 40’s. I’m not sure exactly as I don’t remember, but I do know that he told me his age at one point. He’s got receding hair, wears glasses, and when he’s not in the company uniform, he dresses pretty much like the next guy. He’s got quite the beer gut on him, and for the most part, he’s pretty forgettable. Basically he’s a textbook definition of an average frustrated chump.

“Jeremy” and I had a talk a while ago while on route. This was shortly after he had hired on. Plot synopsis: He moved here from wherever it was that he had lived previously. While he was living where ever it was that he lived, he had been seeing a gal that’s around his age, maybe even a couple years older than him. She’s got two kids from a prior relationship, a teenage daughter and a son that’s around 10 or so.

Their relationship was volatile and they were on again/off again. During one of their off again stages, she decided to move on and smoke another man’s pole. It just so happened to be “Jeremy’s” brother’s pole. Jeremy found this out from both his brother and from her when they tried to be “on again.”

Jeremy ended up moving to Utah and left the woman behind. He got himself a small apartment and got himself a job. Now if the story ended here, it wouldn’t be such a tragic comedy. But it doesn’t end there. Not by a long shot.

Almost a year later, ex-woman and Jeremy are still talking. Ex-woman decides to move out to Utah. Jeremy decides to “take her back.” Problem is, his one bedroom apartment isn’t big enough. Not enough for her, him, and her two kids. So Jeremy and woman get a joint lease and get a larger, more expensive place.

They move in together and everything is happily-ever-after. Right? No. It’s not.

Jeremy is sleeping on the couch. All of his stuff, other than his clothes, is still in boxes. The teenage daughter has the second bedroom while Mom/woman has the master bedroom. I can’t remember where the boy is sleeping, but it’s somewhere in this apartment. And Jeremy is paying for the privilege of sleeping on the couch. Half the rent to be exact. Half or more of the utilities too. If memory serves me correctly, he’s buying most of the groceries too. That’s how he ended up working at my job. More pay to finance someone else’s lifestyle. I don’t even want to guess how often these two have sex.

Jeremy has talked about leaving. He’s waiting for the lease to be up. Which happened as of January 1st of this year. He’s still there as of this writing. All of this backstory, everything that I’m writing about up until now, was told to me several months ago. Why didn’t he just leave her months ago? “Because I don’t want to be that guy. I don’t want to leave her hanging.” Fuck it, I would have taken the credit hit, after finding another place of my own and gotten my shit out of there. Everything is still in boxes, so it would be easy as hell to move. Block her number and/or change my phone number to boot. That’s if I would have gotten myself into this particular mess to begin with.

Jeremy is a “promise keeper.” Rollo has talked about it in at least one article of his own. I’m not going to go into that particular definition except to say that Jeremy is white knighting a woman who is fucking him over because he allows it. He also has the whole “relational equity” thing going on as well.

A couple of days ago, Jeremy came to work in a bad mood. He gave me some story that wasn’t the story, it was an analogy. I just remember something along the lines of, “Why can’t people just accept me for who I am? Why do I have to change?” So Jeremy has some covert contracts going on too. He wants credit for his burden of performance. He wants her to love him the way he loves her. He has certain expectations of her that he hasn’t told her, and since she isn’t doing any of it, he’s pissed and bitter about it. Mostly bitter.

This whole thing is a nightmare in the works. It’s a nightmare of his own creation.

Do I feel sorry for him? Not really. He could leave at any time. He chooses to remain for some misguided idealism in his head that he created for himself.

What’s the point of this post besides showing how fucked up a man’s life can get?

Know what you want.

Jeremy has no clue what he wants. He knows what he doesn’t want, but not what he wants. I know this because I asked him directly. I got the “deer in the headlights” look.

Guys, you can cruise on autopilot for your whole life. God knows, I did it for a long time. You can just “go with the flow” and see where it takes you. Don’t be surprised when it takes you to places you didn’t want to go. Have an idea of where you want to be and where you want to end up, otherwise you’re going to end up at someone else’s destination like Jeremy did. At some point he’s going to have to take charge of his life, own up to his shit, and decide exactly what he wants to do. Until then he’ll keep paying for the privilege of minimal to no sex and sleeping on the couch. He’s not her boyfriend. He’s her employee.

Does Jeremy get to burn? You better believe it.

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Fear and Shame


I’ve been reading several books and blogs while on my journey of the Red Pill, and I’ll probably make a post about those books that I’ve found really beneficial to me. But that’s for another time.

Right now, one of the books I’ve been reading “No More Mr. Nice Guy!” by Robert Glover really gave me a punch to the stomach and to the balls. Right from the beginning this book has made me very uncomfortable, so uncomfortable that I’ve had to put the book down for periods of time only to pick it up again at a later date and keep going. Many of the lessons and the ideas that he talks about are like opening old wounds, some that I thought had healed and scarred over, some that I was totally unaware of and didn’t know existed.

Fear and shame over sexuality was and is one of them for me. All my life, I’ve felt that sex was dirty and on some level, bad. This isn’t new for a lot of men, or women for that matter. I wasn’t raised in a strict, religious household. I wasn’t sexually assaulted or abused. My parent’s never told me that sex was bad or wrong. Other than giving me a very watered down version of the “birds and the bees,” my parent’s never talked about sex with me at all. And herein lies the issue. My mother’s idea of sex is that it’s something you do with someone you love and something you do when you’re married. So my wanting to have sex was somehow wrong and bad, at least that’s how I saw it growing up. I wasn’t in love with girls and women that I saw, I was in lust. I wanted to fuck them, I didn’t want to marry them and make a bunch of babies.

I also picked up the idea somewhere along the way, that women didn’t like sex. Maybe it was my parent’s lack of talking about it, maybe it was after I had my first sexual relationship, the girl I was seeing/fucking said that maybe we shouldn’t have had sex as early as we did, and that maybe we should cut down and/or stop having sex altogether. Years later, I realized what was going on here, but at the time, it seemed to me that she didn’t like sex, regretted the sex that we had, and didn’t want to have sex anymore, especially with me. Maybe it was some of the girls I hung around with at that time that had their own hangups about sex and men as well. I’m sure it’s all of the above and probably some more that I haven’t even tapped into. God, it sucks being in my head sometimes.

Sex for me was enjoyable and I wanted it all the time. I still do. The fear and shame kick in though. I sometimes wonder on some level if the women I sleep with, or have slept with enjoy/enjoyed the sex. I still feel like I’m “pestering” them if I want sex, and in all honesty, I hate asking for it. I don’t beg or do the “please please please can we have sex please?” But I will on occasion straight up ask, “I’m feeling real turned on by you, would you like to have sex?” Sometimes I get a yes and we do, sometimes it’s no, and there is some sort of reason behind it. I hate rejection. I hate being told no. I take it personal. Like it’s me that’s the problem, when I know it’s not me. She’s not in the mood, she had a long day, she’s sick, on her period, busy, pissed off, etc. It sounds bad reading this, I know. It sounds like rationalizations too, I’m sure. Maybe some of them are. Some of them aren’t though. There are times I’ve turned down sex when approached because of a headache or I’m pissed or tired or whatever, and it wasn’t about them. Sometimes I’m being lazy. I like it when a woman initiates sex with me. It turns me on. I don’t have to risk rejection. I can do the rejecting if that’s what I’m wanting to do.

Sex has always been something that is taboo to me I guess. I like fucking in public. I like bondage, especially tying her up. I like sex where we run the risk of getting caught. I’ve even had sex with married women. Not my most shining moment, but there it is. I even had sex in a brothel with a prostitute when I turned 21. Something that I just had to try and experience. Not a bad experience, but not something I would do again.

From what Glover said in “No More Mr. Nice Guy!” in order to get through and past the fear and shame, I need to come clean about it. I need to talk to others about it. “Safe people” as he put it. People who won’t judge me about the shit I feel, the shit I’ve done. I don’t really have that other than here on ye olde internet, what with the semi-anonymity of it all. I could still attract judgment and trolls, but hey, I’m a big boy now, I think I can manage the judgment and the trolling. I’ve been there before with other things on other platforms. What’s a bunch of keyboard warriors to me anyways?

I’ve always felt that since women basically don’t like sex, or that they do it out of a sense of duty, or to get the guy off their back, that it’s wrong for me to want it, that I’m bad for wanting it. So in order to avoid the shame of it and the rejection of it, I’ve tried, pretty successfully, to inhibit myself as a sexual being and to not be sexual. Flirting has been interesting to say the least. How fucking boring is it to not want to bring up sex, even in innuendo? Takes the fun out of it for sure. Makes it fucking boring and sterile. How many encounters have I missed? How much fun have I lost because of this stupid shit? I can’t even imagine. I don’t want to imagine.

And then there is me wanting to be the “Good Lover.” That’s when I focus solely on their satisfaction to the detriment of mine. All you Men out there. If you are reading this, please for the love of god, listen very carefully to what I’m about to say next. Please.

Focusing solely on her satisfaction to the detriment of yours will lead to some fucked up shit. Like not being able to come. I’ve encountered this ALOT. I want to come, and I can pound away for what feels like forever, and it won’t happen. I’m not advocating that you totally ignore her wants and her satisfaction, but for fuck’s sake, you need to think and focus on yours too. Your needs and wants are just as valid as hers. Oh, and not only can you have the effect of not being able to come, focusing on being the “Good Lover” will set up a recipe of a boring ass sex life too.

I’m quoting Glover here:

“Sex that focuses on trying to please the other guarantees a routine, do-what-worked-last-time kind of experience.”

It’s like he was in my bedroom taking notes.

Approval. Seeking approval is part of it too. The more I’ve been dependent on seeking a woman’s approval, the more I would hide my sexual behavior. Can’t have her disapproving of me, god forbid I offend her because I want to fuck her.

This fear and shame has another interesting effect too. Since I’ve pretty much believed that woman don’t like and don’t want sex, why the hell would they be attracted to me? What could I possibly offer them? That one was and is, a nut-buster. I’ve felt that way for years. It was never really on the conscious level, but always running in the background, like a subroutine.

Quoting Glover again:

“…trying to be nice robs a man of his life energy. The more a Nice Guy seeks approval and tries to “do it right,” the tighter he clamps a lid down on any kind of energy that might actually draw a person to him.”

Ouch. Ding ding! Been there, done that. Still do it.

Taking the Red Pill has been an interesting and challenging journey to say the least. I have no regrets, I’m glad I’ve done it. I know I can’t go back to the blue pill lie, nor do I want to. But goddamn, this one, this part of the journey has been a real motherfucker. I am definitely not a victim here. I will not, and cannot play that card. Fuck that. It’s my shit and I get to deal with it and overcome it. But fuck….

Why am I even writing all of this? This is my “coming out of the closet,” I guess. It’s me putting my shame and fear out on the table for the whole world to read if they so choose to. I can’t get past it unless I shed the light of day on it. I’ve put this off long enough. For far too long actually. And there’s more, but I don’t have the time or the stomach to put it out there right now, so that’ll be another time. Another post. Yay me.

Glover has some wonderful tools and ideas in his book, “No More Mr. Nice Guy!” and if you haven’t read it, I would highly recommend it. I’ve read a lot of literature out there when it comes to being a Man and relating to women and whatnot, and this is definitely a good one.

Pick up a copy today. You won’t regret it.

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