After

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It’s Monday September 24th. I buried my Mother on Saturday the 22nd. I’m putting dates and if necessary, times to keep things straight for myself, and for you the readers of my blog. All of what I’m describing here has already happened.

Friday the 21st we had the viewing for my Mother. It was the longest two hours of my life. Every minute felt like an eternity. I just wanted it to be over. My legs were sore and stiff for standing in one place for so long.

My Father was overwhelmed by how many people that showed up to pay their respects. He really had no idea how many friends and family that he had. He had no idea the impact he and my Mother made on these people, this community of car lovers. He was hoarse by the time it was over, he talked to each and every one of them, told them stories about how they had met each other or some of the adventures that they had had with each other over the last two decades.

The girlfriend told me earlier that morning that her Mother was coming either Friday or Saturday, to stand in support with me and to pay her respect to my Mother, whom she had never met before.

I wasn’t holding my breath for my girlfriend’s Mom to make it, but I won’t lie. I hoped she would, and I found myself searching the faces of everyone in that receiving line, hoping I would see her. I found myself disappointed that she didn’t make it to the viewing on Friday.

Seeing my Mother in the casket… I lost it when I saw her there. It brought the reality of the situation home for me. It made it all too real. The mortuary did a fantastic job with her though. Many times in the past, at most of the funerals I have attended over the years, the body doesn’t really look like the person who they once were. They don’t usually look like themselves. My grandparent’s sure didn’t. But my Mom… She looked like herself. She looked like my Mom. I could swear that she was taking a nap. I could swear that she was breathing.

Many of my extended family showed up. My Mother’s sister, her brother, their children, my cousin’s. Same with my Dad’s side. It was interesting. We are not close to any of them. Haven’t been in years. There’s some bad blood there that goes back a long time. Guilt and culpability on all sides. My parent’s and I are much closer to some of the “car show people” than we are to our own blood. And that’s okay by me. I’m good with it. I have nothing against my actual blood relatives, they’ve done nothing to me in particular, but I’ve seen the shit that went on over the years. I’m just not close to them and that is what it is. You reap what you sow.

Saturday we had our final viewing for my Mom at 10 am until 11 am. My girlfriend’s Mom was the second person in line that morning. She showed up. It meant the world to me and still does. I introduced her to my Mom. I told her that I wished that they had met each other before that day. I wish that they had met while my Mom was still alive. She talked to my Mom for a bit and then I introduced her to my Father. They hugged and said that they were both glad to have finally met. My Father told her that he saw where my girlfriend got her looks. My girlfriend and her mother look almost identical. My girlfriend is definitely her Mother’s Daughter.

My Father started settling a lot of accounts at the funeral. He was diplomatic and polite, but if he had a bone to pick with you, you got to hear about it that day. My Aunt, my Mother’s sister, got an ear full. So did her brother, my Uncle. My Father didn’t spare his siblings either. They all got some. Right, wrong, good, or bad, he said what he needed to say, and what’s done is done. Personally, I don’t blame him. Most of the things that he said, needed to be said, and those that he said those things to, needed to hear them. Shit had been going on for far too long.

The closing of the casket was the hardest all of for me. I can still see my Mother’s face clearly. It was the hardest because I know I will never look on her face again. I don’t believe in a heaven, hell, god, or devil. I don’t believe in reincarnation or an afterlife. What people describe as a “soul,” to me, is what is our consciousness. When you die, that “soul” or consciousness gets turned off like a light switch. One minute you are there, and the next, you are not. Lights on. Lights off.

Watching the mortuary staff close that casket, I couldn’t catch my breath. I started to hyperventilate. I got it under control some how, but it came back again once we got the cemetery and got ready to move the casket from the hearse to the grave site. I got over it though. I had to. No other choice. I was a pallbearer for her and I needed to get her there. I couldn’t do that one last thing for her if I couldn’t breathe. So I kept on keeping on. Just like right now. I’m keeping on keeping on.

After the funeral was over, we all went to a close friend’s house and had drinks and food. Lots and lots of drinks. Lots of stories about all the adventures that my Mom and Dad have had over the years. Lots of laughter. Lots of tears.

I have to back up for a bit though. I’m getting a head of myself a little bit.

At the end of the service, I made eye contact with my girlfriend’s Mom. I went to her and we embraced and talked briefly. I told her how grateful I was that she made it out for the funeral to pay her respect and to show support for me since her daughter was out of the country. I told her how much all of that meant to me. I told her how much her daughter means to me. I think the world of my girlfriend. I love her dearly. I told her Mom that I wanted to get to know their family better. I wanted them to get to know me better. Her Mom wanted the same. She told me how much her daughter loves me and thinks of me.

I know it seems pretty “blue pill” and fantastical. My eyes are open. I know where this could all lead. It could lead to nowhere. It could also lead to somewhere. All relationships are transitory by nature. You could spend most of your life with someone and you’ll never truly know them because you aren’t them. All relationships end eventually, whether by a decision or a choice, or by death itself. All relationships last but a short time for the most part. It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have them. By choosing to not have them because of loss, you are missing out on life. You are missing the point of all of it. Nothing ventured, nothing gained and all of those slogans and what not.

So back to the get together….

Dad wasn’t done with the what for’s there either. There was one guy in particular that got both barrels. I actually thought it was going to turn violent for a minute there. Luckily it didn’t.

I also smoked my first cigar that night. I’ve always been interested in what the big deal was, but never got around to it. Mostly because since I have no idea what constitutes a good cigar, I didn’t want my first experience to be shit because of a shit cigar.

I see what the big deal is now though. Scotch and a good cigar are awesome. When I was around 16 I got really drunk, like throw up, be sick, and pass out drunk on scotch. From that day until now, I can’t stomach scotch. Or whiskey for that matter. The smell of it alone makes me retch. Drinking scotch while smoking a cigar though, that I can do. Both mellow and enhance the other.

Sunday I pretty much stayed home by myself. This last week I definitely took a tail spin with everything that has been going on. Going to the gym became sporadic. Drinking became the norm for the week. Even junk food showed back up on the menu. Just for that last week though.

I talked to my Brother from another Mother who lives in Illinois Sunday night, I mentioned him in my last post I believe. He was checking in to make sure that I was doing all right. Just shooting the shit with him raised my spirits immensely.

This morning, Monday September 24th, I woke up around 8:30 am or so and talked with my girlfriend for about an hour and a half. We talked about her Mom showing up for the funeral, I told her what that meant to me. The girlfriend and I are in a good place. Life is good.

I called my job and told them that I would be back on Tuesday September 25th. Tomorrow. Life goes on. You got to keep on keeping on.

Thank you for reading these installments for those of you who have journeyed with me this far. I don’t know if I’ll be talking about this again or not. Right now, I don’t think so. I think I’ve said what I wanted and needed to say.

I get to close this chapter and start a new one. I don’t know what I’m going to do just yet. It’ll be good whatever it is.

I Love You Mom. Rest easy. Thank you for being my Mother and bringing me into this world. I’m grateful to you for what you have done for me all through out my entire life up until now. Hopefully I’ll remember your lessons and carry them forward. I can’t live your standards and I’m not going to try. Your standards are your own. I can only live mine.

 

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Stop Chasing Women

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When I was back in my early to mid twenties, I was learning about Game. I wanted women. I wanted to get laid. Hell, I wanted some sort of relationship with a woman beyond “just being friends.”

So I bought books, CD’s, and DVD’s through the mail. (The internet was around, but was still a somewhat “newish” thing back then.) E-books didn’t exist for the most part and “boot camps” were just starting up. Most of what exists now that guys can easily get a hold of either didn’t exist or was buried deep somewhere on bulletin boards.

Well fast forward a bit during those years, some of what I learned worked to one degree or another, and some of it didn’t. Probably most of it didn’t. My results with women were so-so. The thing that I noticed though was that the more I chased women, the more they ran away. That would pretty much sum up my twenties into my early thirties.

In my early thirties, somebody told me something that I’ll never forget, and it’s probably the best advice I’ve ever been given when it comes to attracting women.

Stop chasing women.

What?!

I’ll say it again:

Stop Chasing Women.

Do your own thing. Work on being a better Man. Become the “World’s Most Interesting Man.”

Stop making pussy your number one priority. You enter their frame and their world when you make them the goal.

You have a lot of “notch” counts? Yeah, so? What else have you got going on for you? What else are you doing? What else have you done? What are you doing with your life, besides chasing tail?

The Men I’ve met that are the most successful with women stopped chasing women.

That doesn’t mean they gave up on women and that they hate women. Far from it. They just stopped chasing them and started doing their own thing.

What do you think women will find fascinating about you? The fact that you chase women all the time and have 50 lays under your belt? Or that you’ve visited every state in the United States and can tell them which one of your trips was your most memorable?

What do you think a woman would find more interesting, the fact that you know how to “score,” or that you can tango?

Which do you think would excite a woman more, that you play Call of Duty on a regular basis, or that you go on motorcycle trips every year?

Become more interesting and women will become more interested.

Stop chasing them and they’ll start chasing you.

Take up some dance lessons, learn how to cook a dish (not microwave leftover pizza), go visit other places other than your own house or apartment. Go on a trip. Take up photography. Buy or rent a motorcycle and start riding.

I’ve met more women when I’m out on my motorcycle than anywhere else. Best part is I don’t have to do anything. They come up to me. They want to go for a ride and they ask me to take them for a spin, in front of their boyfriends.

Stop chasing women and do your thing. Learn new skills. Take up new hobbies. Go on adventures.

Become a Man who is interesting to women.

They’ll come up to you. They’ll ask you questions. And you’ll have things to talk about without having to “learn scripts” and use “embedded commands.” You’ll seem like a “natural” because you’ll be a “natural.”

Learn new shit. Do new things. Develop yourself. You’ll find that you have Game. And it will start to flow naturally from you.

 

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Virtue Signalling

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All of the virtue signalling in the world, and she still won’t fuck you.

I wrote about women on social media a couple of weeks ago.

I know what I’m going to say here will piss off a lot of the White Knights out there, but it’s true. She won’t fuck you because of your virtue signalling.

Physically defending a woman from an actual physical threat? That will get the tingles going. That will get you laid.

Defending her “honor” on the internet? Not so much. In fact, not only does it make you look like a simp to other men, it makes you look like a simp to the woman as well.

She won’t fuck you because you are “in touch with your feminine side.”

She won’t fuck you because you “understand her predicaments.”

She won’t fuck you because you “support her in her struggles.”

She won’t fuck you because you “agree that the patriarchy needs to be brought down.”

She won’t fuck you because you “agree with her definition of toxic masculinity.”

She won’t fuck you because you “are a stoic.”

She won’t fuck you because you “aren’t like other guys.”

She won’t fuck you because you are “sweet, kind, caring, and understanding.”

She won’t fuck you because you commented on her latest picture with “you’re so beautiful.”

She won’t fuck you because you claim that you are “a male feminist.”

She won’t fuck you because you “identify with her.”

She won’t fuck you because you are a “good listener.”

Virtue denotes honor and trust. Those are things that men look for in other men. Men want to know that you are able to hold and defend the perimeter with them. Men want to know that you have their six. Not so for women.

Nothing wrong with having virtue in and of itself, it can be commended. But she still won’t fuck you.

Drop the virtue signalling.

She still won’t fuck you.

 

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