Why Can’t We Separate The Personal From The Political?

Being too friendly with today's villains.

Color me confused that in today’s modern world of global communication,  we appear to still be in those fraught times where the Chinese don’t want you getting too cushy with any members of the Mongol horde and contact might get you viewed as spy and saboteur.  Don’t even go near their horses.

Since when did life become Saul Alinsky’s Rules For Radicals that’s now applied to everyone and every damned sphere of life?

After the events of Florida’s school shooting  – which looks far more disturbing in how it came about via deliberate changes to school discipline and policing  – social media and the internet in general became it’s usual shouting match and echo chamber that ensues after any mass shooting.

What alarmed me in particular this time was that to some gun control advocates, anyone who didn’t denounce the NRA as a terrorist organization or opposed gun control was personally responsible for the shooting and was of course a vile, despicable, human being who supports kids being murdered.

That’s a pretty easy strawman to beat in public for an applauding mob.   But wait, are’t these the same people who are interested in diversity?  Not when it comes to worldview and politics apparently.   In fact dissenters need to be isolated, dehumanized, and possibly targeted.   If you can cost them friends and family as well as various public shamings, all the better right?

Welcome to conversation in the 21st century on the internet which is now spilling over into people’s actual real lives.  Rid yourself of dialogue and arm yourself with a cell phone and your targets contact information and workplace details that can be submitted to a two minute hate twitter mob.

Have the wrong opinions and be at the wrong rallies and you can be beaten by AntiFa to the applause of self-professed very tolerant people.  They aren’t humans after all, they are apparently fascists and violence against them is justified.   (You don’t want to end up like AntiFa.)

Trump supporters being attacked by various mobs such as AntiFa. (One though is of the white disabled kid who was “kidnapped” in Chicago.)

Perhaps we are much more divided in terms of worldview and culture in America then we ever have been, but since when did dissenting views equal incompatibility with even spending time or associating with someone?  When did it start to approach being okay with violence toward them?

Recently I was having a conversation with a family member – one that I very much respect -who was surprised at how I could become “friends” with someone in the Dissident Right who my family member considered to have rather reprehensible views. (Granted, most of my family members would consider him to have said reprehensible views.)

He was particular surprised by me using the word friend.  Why would you become friends with someone with views and speech seen as inexcusable or unacceptable?  (While I don’t agree with this friend on everything, he is still a friend.)

Well regardless of where you are on the political spectrum, it’s a damn good question.

How I Became a Deplorable With Detestable Views

Picking my friends, associates, or villainous enemies to be denounced on twitter based on what they think or hide in perspective closets has always simply been a matter of how and where I meet people.

Hookah lounges. Bars. Concerts. Churches. Raucous Parties. Parties I will not mention.  Internet Forums. Gaming Circles. Gaming Servers. Family functions. Work.  My Old Campus.

Years ago before Trump was a thing, I used to play an online browser game called Astro Empires. While I’ve retained a friend from that game, one other “friend” – a rather progressive one – on Facebook told me he couldn’t be friends with me anymore because my views were detestable.   We even really enjoyed soccer too!   (At that time I was first stumbling across the Manosphere.)

When I reflected upon that moment, the recent conversation I had between me and my family member prompted that EUREKA moment in my puny bigoted backwards brain; plenty of people today view life style, worldview, political, or even cultural differences and disagreements as the whole of a person.

Sad.

If their views are too far out there or “offensive”, their friendship is something that’s found to be shocking.  I find this notion troubling as to what it implies; you are what you secretly dare to ponder upon in the late night hours when you entertain crimethink thoughts about the nature of man, society, and any other specifically touchy controversial subjects where voicing opinions on what you actually think could get you fired from your job because guilt by association.

Talking to people, associating with them, or even communicating or working with them on mutually agreed ideas – even if you differ with them on everything else is certainly not allowed.

What happened to Quinn Norton, which while it certainly didn’t happen to me reminds me of myself.   She got fired hours after being hired by the New York Times for talking with the wrong people. Quinn dared to “associate” with Weev or the greatest deviant villain alive on the internet today, Andrew Aurenheimer founder of the Daily Stormer.  Whoops.

Obviously Quinn is the opposite of a Nazi, but the fact that she had communicated with him on just ONE idea they shared the same opinion on and that she felt was important produced some sort of alternate internet depiction of her as a Nazi.

I was called a Nazi because of my friendship with the infamous neo-Nazi known on the internet as weev—his given name is Andrew Auernheimer; he helps run the anti-Semitic website The Daily Stormer. In my pacifism, I can’t reject a friendship, even when a friend has taken such a horrifying path. I am not the judge of who is capable of improving as a person.

 

This philosophy also requires me to confront him about his terrible beliefs and their terrible consequences. I have been doing this since before his brief time as a cause célèbre in 2012—I believe it’d be hypocritical for me to turn away from this obligation. weev is just one of many terrible people I’ve cared for in my life.

 

I don’t support what my terrible friend believes or does. But I strongly advocate for people with a good sense of themselves and their values to engage with their terrible friends, coworkers, and relatives, to lovingly confront them for as long as it takes, and it would be wrong to not do so myself. I had what I now see as the advantage of coming from a family of terrible people.

 

This taught me that not everyone worthy of love is worthy of emulation. It also taught me that being given terrible ideas is not a destiny, and that intervention can change lives.

One article that covered her reaction to her Twitter scalping had this particular gem of a comment posted:

“There’s a big difference between being friends with people in private and changing their minds personally, one-by-one, and being friends with people publicly and normalizing their BS. If friendship with the Nazi is so important to her, let them be friends. But if it’s part of her public persona, that makes it part of NYT’s public persona, that makes a big cultural voice voting for white supremacy – welcome to 2018. Everyone can see everything, everyone can hear everything.”

Right there in this tripe of slime comment is everything that is wrong with social media, the internet, and our outrage culture in general.  I’m picking on this comment in particular because this is EXACTLY the kind of attitude I see reflected by so many saintly twitter and social media stake burners when they light their torches.

Being friends with bad people – or those deemed to be by our new cultural overlords – is the same thing as “normalizing” their views.   Pious peasants don’t associate with heretic harbingers or they risk becoming them or promoting them.

Even if you are friends with a Troll,  Sauron, Nazi or worse -a Communist considering their body count in the 20th century – talking, eating, communicating, gaming, participating in gay orgies, or shooting the shit with them isn’t going to “Normalize” anything.

We aren’t our political or worldview beliefs.  We are Jack, Jon, Joan, and June who are living life in the 21st century in the digital age afflicted by social media Popes who think that too many “radical” blog posts or social media rants are the absolute embodiment of what someone is 24/7.

Can’t the friend police ever take a damned break?  Don’t they have lives? Is this really what they want to reflect upon gloriously when on their death beds?

I always viewed having various friends and associates like a 9-5 job where after you got done talking about what you thought – no matter how heinous it was deemed to be, you then went on with your life.  You kept drinking beer, smoking stogies, and telling stories late into the night with them.

In fact,  I would imagine myself as a professor or his neighbor.  I could have a daily talk with some uber male feminist ally like Michael Kimmel, have very different conclusions, and go back to grabbing a beer with him later while throwing darts.

The disagreements, while fundamental to our worldview differences and how we choose to life life and spend time would fade while we live our normal lives. One would leave work, go home, unwind, and enjoy time with family and friends.  Another would go to the bar, play softball or volleyball, or watch the newest Game Of Thrones episode together.

That right there. Normal life.

Journey Of Self Discovery

When you form your worldview and outlook on life, it happens over time – often in a kind of butterfly and domino effect of situations, events, friends, and where you spend your time.   It’s a journey, just maybe not as adventurous and  epic as something out of Lord Of The Rings.

I’m far from a modern day Jesus, but I  have and do associate with plenty of sinners, reprobates, and people who are today’s version of heretics.

Lately there’s been a wave of miserly curmudgeons who want to dictate who you can and can’t hang with.  If you deviate, you are labeled some sort of ist /ism or more frequently a fascist or Nazi lover.

It’s not like I went out trying to make friends with hardcore druggies, dangerous online deviants, violent biker types, or Molotov cocktail wielding AntiFa activists.  Rather I simply kept looking for the truth and I was going to wherever it led.

I wanted to find out who I was.   Being drawn to controversy, mischievous and dirty humor, abstract in-the-clouds freedom of speech ideals, gaming, history, rebellion, cigars and smoking, etc all played apart in the paths I would choose at the forks in the road.

In fact, it was similar creating a character class with attributes in an RPG.  I was forging an identity as there were flaws in my current thinking and approach at the time that left me feeling like I was wasting away in the wind while others clearly were not.

What led me even more into the devious, deviant, and every “ist” and “ism” under the sun circles is the simple fact that they were as hostile as I was to control over freedom of association.

Not once did the mean miserly misogynists sexist racists in the manosphere writhe in constant shouting, shaming, and denunciation of myself for being friends with feminists, social justice advocates, Black Israelites, “liberals”, Trump haters, ect.

Neither did those in the #GamerGate, the Dissident Right, and even in horrible dangerous despicable your-soul-may-perish-for-eternity places like the Roosh V forum.

In fact,  not once did some White Nationalist or Supremacists types I talked to flip shit over the fact I talked to Jews, had Jewish friends, and didn’t loathe them.  Even in the case of me being mixed race, my family being mixed race of various sorts, and plenty of friends and associates being every kind of ethnicity, race, culture, factions and members of various “groups”  did this occur.

After a while, I realized where the real “bigots” were coming from and who was surprisingly far more “tolerant” despite having all sorts of views I didn’t agree with.  At the end of the day, I didn’t have to be fully 100% on board with Nazis jackbooting in Harlem with a Hivemind to agree with them that feminism is bad thing.

Look what happens to people like Laci Green who are still ardent feminists and social justice advocates who dared to ask questions and not be completely in lockstep.  They of course get all the nasty labels deliberately designed to rid them of their humanity, making them acceptable targets.

After all, if someone isn’t human and their views have no place in “acceptable” society, then there are no rules that limit what you can do to them.  The insane exaggerated hyperbole and straw-men they are tarred with is therefore not only “acceptable” but apparently some sort of cosmic justice.

Dissenters must be squashed.  For some in uber progressive circles where they spiritually and mentally self-mutilate themselves for not being better allies, they reach a breaking point.   The term “Peak Trans” comes to mind.  Now they not actually suddenly jump to the right politically, but they end up realizing that they can’t survive in a hive mind which allows for no free thinking.

Social media just exacerbates this problem of free thinking.  Express views where you question a popular and accepted narrative?  People lose their minds and you become a Nazi, ist, or ism.  People will take screenshots of denouncing you and “defriending” you.

One is either a hero or a villain – no in between.  If you associate with them in anyway or dare to be friends with them, then via guilt by association, you also become a hero or villain.

I suppose this is the evidence that we needed to prove that friends on social media really aren’t friends. However, too often have I seen family befall the same fate.  Even for family members, certain beliefs are too far and suddenly you are disowned even if the son denies the accusation.   I didn’t know we were all secret Muslims at our core.

Pearce Tefft proclaimed that “Peter Tefft, my son, is not welcome at our family gatherings any longer. I pray my prodigal son will renounce his hateful beliefs and return home. Then and only then will I lay out the feast.”

To quote the guy from 300 who get’s kicked into that bottomless pit, “This is madness.”

I have two sons, and regardless if they became die-hard SJWs who loathed every view I espoused, they’d be welcome in my house.   I’m not pouring years of time, smelly diapers, long nights, and the joys of watching them crawl, walk, and start talking down some drain filter because of what they might believe.

In fact the mere thought of it really bothers me.  I can see not marrying or dating someone because of it, but your very own flesh and blood?

However,  this isn’t a new phenomenon.  It’s one of human nature.  Plenty of family members, villagers, tribesmen, etc. have disowned each other to the point of the sword because of differences in belief.

However that was then, this is now.  Right?

Supposedly the Enlightenment and Age of Reason were supposed to put us past this, but they haven’t.  I’m not going to bother to go into the reasons for that, but I will say that social media obviously fuels this polarization and dichotomy of us vs them.

For some people, they aren’t just content to “de-friend” and dehumanize you, they also believe you need to lose your job, be unable to pay your mortgage, and ensure you are out on the streets. Your family who you support financially? They don’t give a shit.

I’ve been an advocate of fighting fire with fire – specifically those people who threaten to or go after people’s jobs.  However, with finances being tight for myself and with me being the sole provider for my wife and two sons, it’s hard for me to imagine attempting similar retribution to someone, even if they were the aggressors in trying to get me or people with whom I hold similar views with fired.

At some point, we have to draw the line as to how far one should go in a polite and civilized society – while it still barely remains one.

To all you activists out there, regardless of your stripe and creed, how far are you willing to go?

I don’t consider activism, political stances or worldview to be this ever constricting bubble where you dwell permanently, but if your entire life and purpose is based on “activism”, where else do you go to seek your identity? To seek who you are?

Seriously, consider that so many ardent screaming activists are often far removed from the situations and people they express outrage about.  Do those who scream about gun control the loudest with the biggest platforms live in Baltimore in the ghetto?  Often they don’t.

So many people say they want “diversity”, but it seems we pervaded by a culture that encourages us not to have friends or to cut them loose if they won’t come to similar views as ourselves.  Diversity indeed.

Those same people are then shocked when they exit their bubble and briefly enter another where very different views are held.  You’d think they’d embrace that diversity, but often they just point, shriek, and scream “HERETIC!”   Often, that’s where the mutual conversation ends and the pitchforks and torches begin.

Is this really how any of us want to live?  Where we can’t separate someone from their politics or opinions?  I certainly don’t, but I fear far too many do.

 

Learning the Hard Lessons About Sex and Porn

Regretfully for the last 10 years, I watched plenty of porn which aided in my frequent and fervent masturbation each day. It gave all sorts of bizarre inclination and fetishes. Porn showed me how the bodies banged, loud wails, and how many holes could be stuffed at the same time, but not much else.

Easy access on any device, a quick jerk and release, and I was back to my video games, reading, or anything else I felt like at that moment.  Time was being used efficiently.  After watching some gangbang for the zillionth time, I clearly knew more about getting laid. All was well.  Was I lacking anything?

What was lacking is that I still didn’t know how to approach, talk, or much less make the moves on girls so any of that glorious fun looking sex would come my way.  Touching and stroking would apparently moisten things up if I got to that part where my fingers and lips were welcomed, but I wasn’t sure about the rest.  We saw the penetration, but not how a guy actually got a girl to desire that with him.

Your wife is right there, but this video…

When I finally bust from my virgin cage and began to actually have sex with in-the-flesh girls, I ran into moments where I couldn’t get or stay hard.  Instead of being as ravenous and filled with testosterone like King Kong, I would suddenly be unable to perform – something devastating for both parties involved.  Imagine the excitement of knowing you were gonna get some and the confidence blow when you go limp.

What was happening?

A recent phenomena in secular and Christian circles encourages teenagers and college students to wait till their late 20s to 30s to get married.  One must wait till they are financially stable, out of debt, and raking in the big bucks after finally establishing their career – which will never happen for most of us until we hit our late 30s if we are lucky.

During that time you better abstain from the sex, avoid that porn, and stop thinking about how you really want to be enjoying all that meaningless sex your friends are having while you wear your own kind of chastity belt having kissed dating goodbye.  You avoid that porn as much as possible, but the addiction begins – one that’s affecting many Christian men (and women).  In fact something like a third of visitors to porn sites are now women.

I was a product of this – though my dad encouraged me to get married to alleviate my desires.  Of course, I was picky, selfish, immature, and irresponsible.  I wasn’t looking for a wife just yet, but a “best friend”  and someone who wanted to mate frequently.

Supplementing my technical “virginity” with porn, I held on to that sacred virginity as long as possible so I could claim some moral high-ground. Eventually I said to hell with it and went on my journey of debauchery. I didn’t reject my faith, but I certainly wasn’t going to go to church and bother with guilt.

Perhaps I was lucky to experience the “player burnout” rather quickly and realize that I wanted to find a wife with which to raise a family – and have plenty of sex with of course – and devote my time less to pursuit and more to worthwhile activities.

 

Game And Beyond

I had to learn game. Friends gave me advice.  The internet gave me stories.  Podcasts, videos, forum boards, and all those misogynist sexist bastards shared the details of what women wanted and turned them on, rather then what they said they wanted.

Embracing my inner confident asshole, I never looked back. My conquests came through, and my confidence rose to levels of those lucky nerds who gets the girl in those vapid and misleading movies. In my nerdy days, those romantic happy endings were in a galaxy far far away of which I lacked access

Those problems I mentioned earlier however didn’t evaporate.  Lurking like a nagging and unscabbed wound, they poked at me.

I recall Davis Aurini mentioned on a stream how men with girlfriends or wives would often jerk off to porn instead of having sex with them. Their natural attraction toward the feminine body which should have given them rock hard boners was being subdued and withered.

These words stuck me, because what he described was exactly what I was doing – even when I hit my “prime”.  I supplemented actual sex with porn, often preferring the porn to any “real” girl. It was easy, took less effort, and was warping my mind and ability to be aroused by a REAL woman.

Guaranteed release, no effort.

When I met my wife, we had intense sexual attraction. Our secretive and risky adventures to have sex would give way for daily and comfortable sweat sessions once we got married. This has never stopped – yes we still have sex every day.

What also never stopped until recently was me using porn on the side.  While me and my wife had watched some together to get ideas, I would often watch it when she wasn’t around.  During her back to back pregnancies, it made her feel worse and worse as her body confidence took massive hits due to the natural weight gain of pregnancy.

In fact, at points I couldn’t get hard without watching porn before I had sex with her. As you can imagine, it made her feel like crap.  Furthermore, I was often only able to oblige her to sex twice a day because my drive had decreased from jerking off to porn during the other parts of the day.

Yes, you did read that right. Sex only twice a day on average instead of more because my wife’s sex drive is that high.  That’s how much she is attracted to me, loves me, and wants me.  I was letting her down.  Her great body that should have been driving me crazy was being ignored for people who meant nothing to me on the web.

Porn even made me lazy.  I wouldn’t do any at home workouts and my “desk job” managed to pack on an additional 30 pounds making me officially overweight for my height.  Still through all of this, my wife strongly desires me.

I’m lucky gentleman.  Yea my game is good as are my looks, but how many men can say the same in a similar situation? My wife is just that loyal and into me.

I could have very well permanently sabotaged my relationship and marriage to get that momentary high from watching and jerking to porn.

My wife deserves more. She deserves all the sex she can get from me, regardless if I’m feeling horny or not.  Porn only lowered my libido. It’s a dangerous drug that’s hard to give up.  Even still, I sometimes feel permanently altered from its affect when me and my wife go at it.

It’s a lesson I will teach my two sons. I encourage all of you to do the same and be careful – even using it as a stimulus for you and your wives.  Avoid it.  Your wife or girlfriend has a body that you should ravish.  Study hers and do exactly that.

Sometimes the old wisdom from those prudish puritan conservatives and I daresay insane raving feminists who disprove of porn for opposite reasons can be correct.  Plenty of studies tell us about the ill effects of porn on men and even on women who have developed addictions.  You just don’t take those effects seriously until it happens to you.

Six Things I’ve Learned as a Husband and Father

Six Lessons Early On As A Husband and Father

You Will Need A Support Network

I can’t understate how important this is -especially when your kids are infants and need a lot of time.  Many families often relocate to where they can get work.   What’s crucial is finding a job where you have family or close friends available that can give you a leg to stand on in hard times, but can help babysit when you and your girl – in my case wife – desperately needs a break.

One or two people wont be enough. People get busy – often when you really need them – and you will need a wide network to ensure it doesn’t happen to you.  They say it takes a village to raise a child, and when you have two boys that are 10 months and 4 days apart, that couldn’t be truer.  Your family, her family, friends, everyone.    People we know have bought us diapers, clothes, even carseats and strollers.  Without that help, I don’t know what we would have done.

You want to avoid daycare at all possible costs, but to make ends meet these days, often both parents will have to work. It’s essential you have family, friends and GRANDPARENTS nearby who can babysit and help out.  If you aren’t able to have one parent remain at home with your kids, your family and close friends are far more nurturing and key to your kids success later in their lives than a daycare will ever be.

Lots of babysitting needed there.

With three months left of our lease, our babysitting situation and inability to get the support we needed caused us to uproot and move back to Illinois and in with some close friends of ours.  Now, with my parents nearby, my mom can give us babysitting whenver we need it.  This has been essential to both me and my wife getting work and being able to pay off what’s left on our lease back in Missouri.

Again, if you don’t get support, taking care of your kids in their infancy will become an exhausting burden, rather than a blessing and your marriage will be strained as a result.  Me and my wife have had plenty of small fights over problems created by exhaustion and the lack of people to help us out.

The fact my mom will babysit at any point means that I can finally take my wife. We can go to the Warped Tour and see her bands. A night out at the drive-in theater becomes a reality, instead of a fond memory.  We can never forget what brought us together in the first place.

Swallow Your Pride

Alpha this, alpha that. If you are an “Alpha”, you should have some pride and confidence in yourself and the decisions you make for you family.  However, when you screw up, don’t let your pride get the better of you.  If you can’t keep a promise, plans blow up, or you legitimately end up causing your wife grief – apologize.  Own it.   You are a man.

I must admit, I’m a stubborn prideful bastard.   So when I’m wrong, it’s hard to admit it.  Your wife will respect you if you are willing to admit and own your mistakes.  Key here is that you apologize when you screw up – not just apologize for her mistakes or to make her feel better. Only apologize when you do something wrong so it’s significant when you do.

Admit when you are wrong.

Just do it.   This one of the rare times, “Man up” should be said.  If you want your wife to apologize for the mistakes she does – and not blame you for them, you will have to lead by example.  I absolutely suck at this, but lately I’ve been trying to own any actual mistakes I make.    When it comes to raising my sons, this will be key.   They will look at my example and see if I do what I preach.

Now this doesn’t mean that you should roll-over.  (My wife even admitted she’s glad I don’t do everything she says or wants.)  If you have to battle, pick your battles and stand your ground when needed.

Manage Your Time

It’s so easy to be lazy and not make use of your rare downtime. I get it, but when things are tight and time is of the essence, do something useful and productive.  I love my video games, but the demands and needs of young sons come first.   This means keeping on top of giving them baths, getting them fed, changing them, and watching my oldest as he scurries around trying to touch and grab everything. 14 months is indeed an active age.

For instance, I want my wife to be satisfied with cheap easy to make food – which she usually isn’t.  To make it easier, I’ll have to spice it up, do the small things, and actually learn more about cooking. ( I work from home.)   I’ll also need to do whatever cleaning and stuff needs to be done.

In fact, there was a faucet that had to be replaced.  I had to get some extensions for the water supply valves to reach the faucet ends, but I took forever to get around to it because I was lazy.   We needed that faucet ready to go. I finally did it, but far later than I should have.

Luckily with that SUPPORT NETWORK that I mentioned earlier, time is a bit easier to manage when they boys are being taken care of by my mom and I’m able to get whatever I need to done around the house that me and my wife are staying.

Me and my wife have sex every single day.  That’s no accident. We ENSURE we have the time – that and my wife demands it with her high drive.  No matter what happens that day, we MAKE time.   If you really value something, you can and will do the same without excuses.   This also means that I have to stop making excuses for not getting things done that I should.

Laugh, Love, Live

These are great slogans, but people are usually either too busy or self absorbed with life to actually participate in these.  A great support network will help enable you to actually live life.    The house me, my wife, and the boys currently live at is the home of my best friends parents who are like my second parents.  It’s very similar to living in a multi-generational house and the benefits are immense and tremendous.

We actually talk to each other over food.  Laughter, great stories, and that noise of “happiness” can be heard constantly.   We are never “Bored”, unlike so many people.  There’s always something going and someone to hang out with.  Great conversations occur. Often friends and grandparents are over. Board games, bonfires, barbecues outside are staples of our lives. Beer taste better when you are enjoying it with people you love.  Having a Wii with Mario Party and Brawl is suddenly a phenomenal thing.   We are our own Brady Bunch.

My best friend’s family had four kids and my best friend and his wife have a 3 month old son.  (I’d like to think we inspired them to get going) We are going through almost the same stage of life. The naive dream of me and my best friend hanging out with our wives and raising kids is actually happening.  I feel like I’m living my own version of Second Hand Lions.   It fills me with joy everyday and makes me look forward to waking every morning.

All this makes it easier to raise our two boys with the love, help, and input that my best friends family gives us. I’m constantly learning new things as a dad because of it and me and my wife fight MUCH less than when we lived on our own in Missouri.

One interesting realization is that there’s other people who can hear those fights, so we have to mediate our differences calmly and quickly.  It prevents arguments from blowing up into nasty fights and has allowed us to get needed space and conversation with others in the house to take our minds off it.

Regarding that love part; the daily sex that I mentioned earlier helps resolve those fights and constantly bond us together to overcome if either of us have had a bad day, her emotions are at a low, or just our libido is going crazy.  It also boosts her confidence in herself and her body – very necessary after having two kids back to back.

When my wife’s particularly cranky,  she’s mentioned how she has a stick up her ass and that she needs sex to get rid of it.  Sure enough, it works every time.  Never forget that little fact when you wonder why she’s mad at you for no reason and you can’t logic at all with her.

Do The Small Things

1. We can be great at having the big picture in mind, but it’s the small details and living of our daily lives that makes all of that happen.   It’s those small conversations, memories, and emotions that shape our futures.  It’s easy to let the days blend together until you can’t remember what you did last Thursday.

Do something small each day to make it different.  Tell you wife you appreciate what she does.  Make her a small gift, come up with a quick movie list, and tell her you have a surprise for her – just don’t tell her what it is to the last minute. Never let that spark of romance get lost in the gritty routine of life. Make a date night each week.

2. Plenty of fights me and my wife have gone through were often because she wasn’t feeling “loved”. Every time it comes up, I think to myself, “Seriously?”  Simple stuff like saying, “I love you” in the morning, a kiss when she wakes up, a sincere compliment here and there. If she’s looking really good during a moment of the day, TELL HER SO.  You’d think that she knows you already love her and think she’s beautiful, but she needs to be reminded of it.  She needs your validation and appreciation.

Go beyond her outward beauty and look to her as a whole. It’s easy to see what your spouse does wrong – especially during arguments, but you often forget to compliment and appreciate what she does right.  She needs to know everyday that she is making you happy and that she is worth it.  Appreciate your wife for the great mother that she is and that the effort she puts in everyday.

You can do it

So many men have become jaded and believe that marriage isn’t worth it and fear losing any kids they do have to divorce and eventual child support via a vicious ex.   The risks are there, but the rewards of choosing a life you want to live are there as well.

I don’t make much money.  Neither does my wife.  But with that support I keep shouting about, anything is possible. You don’t have to be financially “stable” – most of us won’t be for years to come – and in your late 30s till you can get married and even think about kids.   Against the current grain, I would advise getting married young and having kids.

It’s far easier to deal with the responsibilities of kids when you are young, then when you are in your 40s and your back is killing you. You also enjoy the wife of your youth in your prime when you are full of energy, hope, and that “spark” that seems to fade as people age.

That essential support network can let you live a life worth living.  Be your own man and if a family is what you desire, don’t look back.  Keep striving forward.  Even though I’m new at being a dad, my boys already have an advantage – they will grow up with a father who loves them, will lead by example, and will always be there.

 

 

 

Playing Pretend Men With The Perfect Persona

So many internet tough guys out there tell us how it should be done, how we will change the world, and what Utopias we can envision in a pleasant future.  This assumes we’ve gotten over our addiction to schadenfreude to begin our monk like meditation.  It’s an addiction worse than heroin for anyone with a smart phone, twitter, and too much time on their jealousy soaked hands.  Eventually it breeds a toxicity that you feel yourself drowning in.

Matt Forney and Aurini made this point in a recent stream and they are absolutely right about the detox that we all so desperately need to start.

The problem is that’s it’s everywhere.  Zombies with an addiction to digital flesh from internet controversy, gossip, and virtue signaling every which way to settling for rants, mudslinging, meme trolling, and the occasional cat video.  Everyone rants about problems, but the thinkers coming up with solutions are left in the web traffic stat dust. Yet again, those who are doing the legwork won’t be likely appreciated until they pass from this mortal coil.    Rather we prefer staying in our choir rooms as it preaches to itself for the umpteenth time.

That flesh the zombies consume is fed by a source the Luddites never could foresee – the very internet itself.  The web is every sci-fi writer’s greatest fantasy; a shockingly easily wielded tool capable of great good but also terrible evil.  No, that’s not even enough of an attempted literary description to give you that vivid picture that should haunt your smart phone attached fingers.

Will we take a break?

Toxicity from it spews everywhere.  It’s hard to avoid.  Gutters are our everyday walk. We love to see the outspoken fall, but we cry deep tears when it happens to us.  Most of what we stand for is often based on telling others what trash they are.  While our opposition may be trash, it tires us out. We know there must be more.

Yet it’s brought on by ourselves.  We are soaking ourselves in this toxic insanity.   People are burnt out.    Politics has just turned people even more jaded liches of themselves, but is burning people out.  Take that hint and take a break.  You can step away and it will all still be there when you get back.

Be careful, life might leave you behind.

Our addiction to information overload is fueled by a desire to always be in the moment and NEVER miss out.  By the way our culture looks these days, it’s stronger than sex.    What flurry of information we pick to fill our heads with says alot about us.  We dont just allow, but get high off constant distraction.  As Neil postman predicted, we are amusing ourselves to death.   The addiction almost killed Andrew Sullivan.

That distraction is better than taking action.  We can yell from our arm chairs with the latest bit of constant 24/7 gossip and stupid feminists to laugh at, instead of doing anything to create that famed shire culture we frolic about.  Laci Green said this and a Jezebel article said that! Who cares. Does this gossip like debunking of progressive nonsense actually do anything? Schadenfreude is amusing, but isn’t there more?

What Are We Doing?

Creation requires effort, risk, and a departure from swiping on tinder and trying to game girls with low self esteem at bars.  Any kind of rebuilding or simply building anew of a culture and worldview that wont’ shatter at the foundations means our goals have to be about solutions rather than the rants and criticism that are so easy to vegetate on.

So why are we here in our corners of the manosphere and alt whatever?

We are here to help men who want to be helped to lead better and more enjoyable lives.” – Lizard Of Oz

If this is truly our goal, we are in serious danger of losing our way.

Even on our much revered forum of the manosphere, so much of the talk revolves around laughing about the pain of progressive SJWs, fat feminists who are LITERALLY slowly eating themselves to death, and women who too late realized that their corporate jobs didn’t care about them when they considered having a family.  Instead…“HAHA! Stupid bitch deserved it!”   Poetic justice I guess. On to the next one.  Is this really our high?

Hell I recall an article by feminist Julie Bindel who was worried that feminism was in danger of becoming toxic  – a point it’s far past – because of how vicious it’s twitter army had gotten.  That toxicity – though from an entirely flawed and vicious worldview can be seen in our own pastures as we lob grenades into their trenches.

Sure it feels good, but in the end, what are we doing to help men become better?  To get out of their predicaments? To help rebuild the shattered teenager getting out of highschool whose feminized teachers ensure he will be a virgin into his 30s and end up stuck in that “anger” phase, even if does find the red pill?

We need to detach from the venom before it’s all that’s left of us.

At the core we forget the human element of all of this and that you can catch far more flies with honey than with vinegar, even if that vinegar burn is as entertaining as Mister Metokur’s takedowns.  Case in point is a Kid Strangelove post on Matt Forney’s site:

So invite you, my dear reader, to make a commitment with me. Let’s all be good guys. Let’s try to spread as much care and joy to other people as we can. Let’s be good, positive human beings. Because it is through this goodness that our message can spread and become more accepted. It is through this goodness that our message, our stories, our lessons, will have a new audience. It is through this goodness that we help our fellow man.”

Our addiction ends up being to the vinegar. It’s sad.

We have to detach ourselves from the digital monster, before we become it.  In fact, this is a fate that is being seen across the spectrum.   I’ve made an effort over time to do just that. Every day, I’ll just take in the scenes around me, the flush of chattering voices, smiles, roars, and the attempt of people to just get through their day.

What I’ve realized makes me somewhat ashamed.

Broken people. Everywhere.  It’s just that the online addicts have it the worst. Even when they venture into that sunlight, their thoughts are consumed digital anticipation.  Their friendships based around ideologies that could deliver betrayals worse than Judas.

It’s no way to live.

At some point, I just want to help them.  I know these people in real life. Their online pitchforks gleam in the blood red moonlight, yet when you see the downtrodden looks in their faces after a tedious job they hate has gut punched them yet another day.  Longing for something as real as the feeling of sand sifting between your fingers.

At some point, I long for healing.

Hopefully sooner, rather than later.  Look at where we are at in history and you’ll notice we are in a downturn in the cycle. This open nastiness and toxicity we see is just merely part of the beginning stage.  It will get much worse. Hopefully some of our “enemies” realize that when shit in the fans, they are just as human as we are.

Now I as well as the rest of you are sick of being attacked day in and day out by liberal types, hit pieces from the media, and virtue signalers who throw us under the bus rather the risk the “wrong” associations.   Thing is there are tons of them out there.  You can’t really do much to swim back up against the current.

What you can do however is reserve your own grenades for those who attack your friends, family, and the men you choose to stand with.  Always stand by them through the darkest of times and reserve your attacks for those who come for their livelihoods.   However, for the rest of those around us, enjoy each day as it comes.

Living Up To Your Potential is Uncomfortable

“Continuous effort – not strength or intelligence – is the key to unlocking our potential”. – Winston Churchill

Plenty of motivational words have been blathered about “Living up to your potential.” It’s almost abstract at this point. Perhaps the above quote from the brilliant and witty Winston Churchill may be an exception.

We serfs often get used to a daily routine – one that’s very comfortable. While we bounce between loving and hating it depending on whether we are enjoying life, we don’t want to quite upset that balance.

It’s why we settle for the status quo, both on a very individual scale when we are grinding out our day jobs, and simply want to relax when we get home. Living up to your potential is hard.  That continuous effort…  well, I really want a beer and to Netflix and chill with my wife instead.

Of all of the above, I’m guilty.

I work a job with commission opportunities with a low base hourly rate of 9$ an hour. Often, they are happy that you just show up, because so many people don’t when it comes to call centers.

I’ve lasted over 9 months at my job – which is apparently great when you look at turn over rates for call centers. Still everyday I’m at the edge of quitting and walking off.

Because I have a family to provide for, I can’t do that. However instead of applying to new jobs, I just lay back at home when I get off and relax. It’s easy. I want to unwind.

The next morning, I wake up and curse having to get ready to go back to a job I often hate. I’m my own worst enemy, a glutton for the punishment of a comfortable routine.  I’m my own worst enemy.

That’s me.

I actually like my co-workers and both of the managers I’ve had. I just can’t chance not making commission during checks when my family is desperate for money.

Based on that alone, I should have already gotten another job. But this one is easy. I know the systems, the unwritten rules, what flies and what doesn’t – all of which take a few months to learn. I don’t want to start over and get… uncomfortable. Anxious. Unsure of exactly what the expectations will be.

Clearly, I’m hindering my own potential. I’m comfortable in my job routine while hating and loving it every day.  I know so many other people who are afflicted in this same devious manner. But we are too lazy and “comfortable” to do anything about it.

We bitch about the status quo, but content ourselves in it’s comforts. I talk big and loud, but my stick is very small.

This all comes down to willpower.  An honest thorough self-reflection would indicate that I’m lacking that department, or that I pick and choose.  If it’s easy, I’ll leave that comfort zone, but if it’s hard I’ll certainly stay.  Of course this means that my motivation will be lacking as well.

Quintus Curtius calls this Transformative Mental Change  when he talks about the Foundations Of Motivation and that its needed if you want to make a step in the right direction harnessing that willpower – or at least building it.

“This source of motivation comes from an internal decision that we make.  We consciously decide that we want to improve ourselves.  We consciously decide that we want to begin the process of forward movement.  At some point, we become tired of the old patterns and wish for a change.  We wish to push ourselves into new vistas and regions of exploration.  And before we do this, we make a decision.”

You would think having a family to provide for would give me that mental tazing  and wake me from my lackadaisical slumber, but it hasn’t yet.  That desire to do more – still lacking. Have to buckle up. I wonder if it’s an aspect of maturity that I still have to attain – a level of responsibility that has to be shouldered.

The appreciation isn’t seen right away, but the fruit will be seen in full later.  Perhaps I’m too much a creature of immediate satisfaction, rather then a player of the long game.  Again it’s another part of living up to Potential. You want to be all you can be.

If one really wants it, they will grab it without excuse. In a world where excuses are rewarded, I suspect this is why it takes people a long time to finally leave their comfort zone. Why would they?  If they live off the government dole, there is no incentive.  If they live at home and can still have their girlfriends overnight, why bother striving to better themselves?

Then again, if the system is rigged – getting that dollar too much in the next tax category, it may be a symptom of our society in general where the hardest working end up being the most penalized.  This is not an excuse, but an observation.

This is not a call to be someone else, it’s a call to be the best I can be. We take a lot for granted – specifically our continued and assured situations. We never know if calamity, death, joblessness, the loss of transportation could send us to the streets.   It’s almost as if we are living paycheck to paycheck.

An assured, prosperous, and at the very least – safe – future should be planned.  That planning and needed drive have to be used at some point. Sooner rather than later.

Two ways to deal with the raging emotions of your pregnant wife.

What happens to your old hobbies? They vanish as you and your spouse both envision strangling each other – but don’t.

My pregnant wife in her natural habitat. Ice cream. Facebook. And not directing emotional rages toward me.
My pregnant wife in her natural habitat. Ice cream. Facebook. And not directing emotional rages toward me.

The above picture is of my wife in her natural habitat – the bath.  To pacify her in this time of emotional tyranny, I gave her ice cream and let her chow down right out of the container.  I even promised not to make fun of her for it – a promise I’ve somewhat kept.     She even had her phone to scroll through Facebook.

I used this precious and rare time to play my current favorite game – Fallout 4 – modded because I have joined the PC master race.  Kid in a candystore, but this was one of my final pieces.

Welcome to marriage – pregnancy stage. Prepare yourself gentlemen.

My problem isn’t one that most men complain of – a lack of sex.  We average sex twice a day.  It’s my pride, the way our fights escalate, the hobbies I don’t want to give up, and the fact that I keep forgetting my wife is my wife – pregnant and not someone you can reason with.  Speaking in generalities, women respond to emotions and men to logic – though I’m seeing alot more emotional men these days.  I keep forgetting this.

Because I don’t want to be a complete loser, I’m trying to develop more productive hobbies – which does suck. I miss my video games, and I resent the amount of time I’ve been forced to give up playing them – regardless of how “mature” it makes me.

When I get home from work, I want to be lazy. I suppose now that I am a father with one son and another on the way, it is time to be responsible and look into new hobbies that my kids will share with me once they get a bit older.

That video game, I want to play it, without condemnation, nagging, or weird bouts of jealousy that I can drink alcohol and she can’t.  To this end, I am in her crosshairs – if she can’t have fun, I can’t either.  Now this is illogical, wrong, and plain out vicious, but that doesn’t matter.  She’s pregnant and emotional.

My lovely nympho wife will nag me about productivity – which is escalated depending on how bad her pregnancy hormones are that day. Alas, it has me writing more.  While I’ve sacrificed my prized video game time, my sex life is that of envy – we average twice a day with passionate bouts of love.

Today, I bring to you the subject of surviving your first year of marriage with a pregnant wife.   If you are with a women who is pregnant, throw out everything you know about her before she decided to carry your offspring.  Prepare for hell on emotional wheels of wrath.

Her raging, vicious, and unpredictable moodswings are now your problem.  She may start crying randomly, and by the end of it taking swings at you because of her rantings about her parents or yours. I’m not even referring to the verbal wrath that you will incur in the process – that’s just a bonus.   So what do you do?

You can’t reason with the beast. You can’t argue with it.

But you can pacify it.  As a man, it’s one of the most important tools you can learn to use when you have a family.
Behold, I give to you my fellow men, a weapon with which to master her emotions in their raw and uncontrollable state (1); the manly, yet smooth,  alluring, and sexual hug.

Now I’m a proud and stubborn man, and when my wife has either hit me or attacked me in the most vicious way with perfectly chosen words to inflict the most damage to my sanity, I don’t want to hug her.  (In fact I want to hit her back after she’s hit me.)  Again, muh pride.

Shockingly, I swore I would never allow a woman to do this to me.  Yet as she is my wife and the mother of my children, my tolerance for BS has gone up – because I love her.  Love changes things. It really does.  I am a proponent of the manosphere, but my wife is my wife, not just another plate.  (Also, dread game is a NO when your wife is pregnant, plus my wife is already very jealous and will beat up other women for looking at me wrong. )

I want to fight back with the nastiest words in my arsenal possible to make her feel the same anguish. “Hurts doesn’t it?”

Indeed it does, especially when she’s pregnant.  Of course, she will remember those fights far into the future and berate you later with, “You said these terrible things to me when I was pregnant,” regardless of any words of war directed at you, the suffering father.

Women fight very well with words, a favor I can return. But should I?  Should a pregnant women hear anything anything else that will make her emotions scream?  Stress is also an issue and it can cause miscarriages.  My pride though.  It’s very angry and upset.  It’s been unjustly wounded. Yet again, I swallow it, or at least I should.

Hug her tight – from behind and then move to the front. Slowly massage her shoulders and lower back.  Get her calmed down. Physical touch will do what the most logical of words will not.  Kiss her neck, suck on her earlobe a bit. Then notice what starts to happen.  Her face changes.

Your other weapon (2) : Angry frustrated pent up sex.  

When women are pregnant, their raging hormones need to be released. They are bottled up like a kid holding his breath. Sexist sounding or not, the truth is the truth.   So take control of the situation and arouse your wife in the process.

Those raging hormones? Well, release them. Direct them toward the bed. Or couch. Or bathroom.

If your wife already has a high sex drive, pregnancy will GREATLY escalate it.  So grab  her pants, and drop them down.  Get aggressive. Wrestle with her in that bed. Or on the floor.  Your video games may suffer, but your sex life will rise to new hard peaks.

So many of our fights could have been de-escalated, but since I was mad at her from her either hitting me or trashing me, I didn’t want to have sex with her – I was too livid. I had too much pride.   A simple hug and escalation to sex could have solved it.

I must admit, she’s even told me to hug her and hold her tight – and also to pull her pants down when we are fighting. In this, me and her are different.   My anger at that moment, I must swallow.   She doesn’t need words of logic about why she is being an unreasonable bitch -something she knows as well.  She needs a hug and to be led to the bedroom.

Never underestimate the power of sex.

Learn from me, swallow your anger at that moment, and pound it out deep.  Never has there been a more perfect time for a spanking in that love making. She will love you, and you will love her.

I wish you luck gentlemen.

For further advice on many at matter to do with marriage, I highly suggest TheFamilyAlpha and AverageMarriedDad, each with their own kind of approach.

The Red Pill Doesn’t Quite Prepare You For Being Married, Pregnancy, and Fatherhood

Julius Temple as a Baby Holding My Finger

Monday, April 18th, 2016 at 1:37 PM, my son Julius was born.  His birth was the culmination and the reward for all of the various fights, strife, conflicts, and plain out stress that me and my pregnant wife had gone through leading up to that very moment.   That said, I don’t think I was as nearly prepared for it as I thought I was.  While fatherhood strikes whether you are ready for it or not, the process leading up to it can be both a joyous and tumultuous affair.   Score one for my continued legacy and that evil Patriarchy with my sons birth though, as we are about to strengthen it’s ever growing resolve.   (My wife already told me just the other day, “I’m ready for another one.”)

That said it’s still been stressful as my son couldn’t go home with us.  He wasn’t breathing enough oxygen and had to be transferred to another hospital.  My wife’s been there every day, sometimes for 12 hours a day, with me heading there the second I’ve gotten off work.  Up until just a day ago, she couldn’t even hold him in our arms. As a new mother, it’s been killing her.

I can see the pain in her eyes, the stress in her movement, and the easy escalation of disagreements – though we’ve fought way less since he’s been born.  My wife is young – almost 20 – and this is our first child, so we as new parents are still barely scratching the surface in just what it means to be parents.   (If you’ve noticed, I try not to say my wife’s first or maiden name so certain assholes can’t target her or her future employers.)

Julius Temple as a Baby Holding My Finger
He Took My Heart Right Here – Father Moment

Yes, married couples – especially newer ones fight way more than anyone want’s to admit.

Now, we hear alot about the taking the Red Pill and what it can do for a man.  We know it can mean much more then just discovering the truth about feminism, social justice, and gender relation as Hawaiian Libertarian has pointed out. But what happens when you miss certain aspects of it, or dare I say, other “Red Pill” entirely?

Marriage isn’t something talked about nearly enough in whatever is left of the “manosphere”, though Roosh and many at ROK have made observations about about how men move past the player stage and what more from life and the worldview of Neo-Masculinity.   When it is talked about often, it’s about how men should never get married and how you should only marry foreigners if you do.

As your son looks back at you.
My son has started to open his eyes.

That’s good and all, but those of us like myself who have not only gladly taken the risk, but are creating families from it, there might be a bit lacking in the RP advice department, especially on when your wife is pregnant. While game doesn’t end when you get married, but instead evolve,  I often ask myself the following:

1. Am I being supportive enough?

2. Am I taking too much shit that I never would have taken before? Again, pregnancy is another aspect.  Women use words as weapon very effectively, and my wife is no exception when she is stressed, in pain, has a baby kicking the inside of her, and is full of hormones.  What is the appropriate course of action?

3. What should I take a stand on and what should I understand is merely a result of pregnancy?   What disagreements should I compromise on or give 100% into her on.  (Stress can cause miscarriages.)  Did she mean any of the nasty things she just said in a fight after she apologized for them just an hour later?

4. What kind of game should be run vs what kind of game is even acceptable? Honesty is important, alas why my wife knows what my worldview is.

5. How should I resolve fights? I have my normal RP way of dealing with women, but my wife isn’t just a woman, she’s the mother of my son and is love of my life.  Red-Pilled wisdom from older married men is something I wish I had way more of.   Yes, I know of stuff like this, but it doesn’t go far enough.

In our young marriage, we’ve had some terrible fights, but they’ve ended pretty quickly. Sometimes I’ve put my foot down, and it does lead to more respect.  The thing is I lack the necessary wisdom of when to use a gentle word to turn away wrath and when to be firm.  My dad gave me a piece of wisdom in that hurtful words said early are bad for the early foundation of your marriage. No brainer, of course.

For the most part when my wife is on the verbal warpath, slashing me with her tomahawk of vicious words, I usually won’t say nasty things back; something I would do in return to anyone who wasn’t my family or my wife.  I made a specific exception because she is my wife, and was pregnant.  One time however, I did slip and I was so mad, I called her a piece of shit.  Despite she had said far worse things to me during the car ride in which we were fighting, all of her nasty barbs didn’t matter. I was blown away.

Surprisingly in many way, Bill Burr was right:

Why was my wife acting like a teenager? Then it me; she’s 19. She still is a teenager.  In fact, I’m her first real relationship.  Her expectations and mine have been different on a few things.  I want my alone time – she strongly objects to this sometime, the pregnancy being part of that.   I often wondered, why does she say the nastiest shit when she’s angry?
(Sometimes whenever she is irked by my actions/words she will say in this disproving motherly tone, “Seriously?”  It irks me even more and makes me want to say, “Yea, fucking seriously.”  Then, I remember that I do indeed love her.    I just wish there were more guys out there like AverageMarriedDad and TheFamilyAlpha who know what it’s like and have advice on how to have a successful happy marriage and a resulting healthy family.  Too often, we get alot of marriage advice from men who aren’t actually married or are bitterly divorced and have a strong bias against it – somewhat understandably so.

Marriage is hard work, but it’s worth it.  Yes, it like any other major life choice is a risk, but it’s a worthy one, despite the quality of good women in our generation, the courts, and a system rigged against men.    Marriage is a risk, but what else in life isn’t a risk? Some of the best thing in life involve risk – whether that be in time investment, finances, relationships, etc.  Don’t let your life be hindered by aversion to risk, simply decide what risks are really worth it.  I do believe marriage is one -provided you find the right woman which definitely is worth it.

Holding your son for the first time is worth it. Oh and stopping fights as they happen with sex – which we do alot – is totally worth it.   In fact, if there’s anything I’ve learned it’s that if the fight is about to escalate, pull her pant’s down.  Her words, not mine.  Well, she was definitely right about that. (Also make-up sex and I’ve never had to beg for sex. Ever.)

I encourage men who aren’t sure about marriage to really look for a good woman. They are out there, though you won’t find them on Tinder, bars, etc.  Are you looking hard enough? Are your glasses filtering out the good girls?  Many of you say you want one, but do you really?  When you marry young, you do face different challenges and you would be wise to ready yourself for them. Being good at being a man is hard work.

Do you want your legacy to continue? Do you want the pleasure of having your child gaze up at you and look deeply into your eyes? Do you want to statistically have far more sex as a married man than single men do – especially when you are young?  Obviously don’t marry for just sex or even just love.  Find the right woman.  You don’t marry someone who is your soulmate. You marry someone who becomes your soulmate. Remember that dear Gentleman, and Godspeed to you.

P.S. For all future and current parents with young children, I highly suggest Quintus Curtius’ blog which will provide a foundation of classical themed education and insight that is so lacking these days.   He is that Aristotle that you’re sons in particular need as their tutor as they delve into those famed classics.

When I Realized I Couldn’t Play Hard With The Girls

2nd Sucks Shirt Song A Day To Remember, playing, sports

“They said you were touching girl’s asses,” the school’s principle, Diane, who had called me in for my transgressions.  Luckily for me, she was a nice lady who was interested in at least hearing what this criminal had to say.

This was nonsense. I was just playing hard.  What the hell was she talking about?  We are playing sports together!

Reflecting On My Sins

In the end, I was blindsided and ended up fessing up to something I really hadn’t done, because I didn’t want to get in any more trouble.  It was as if I had come out on top, but my victory had been tossed away due to steroid use.

My persecutors were two girls in particular who were actually both 8th graders, who also had a hard on for me that wasn’t sexual in the slightest, but rather one in which they vindictively felt better by helping to bully a kid like me who was already somewhat of an “outcast”.   I knew it was them, but what could I do?  It would be one of the first times I realized girls fought behind your back with words, unlike boys who would fight with fists before your eyes.

I hadn’t touched their asses as much as I had bumped into them or their boobs trying to catch the football before they did when we jumped in to the air. They wanted to play with us, afterall.  I figured that if the girls wanted to play with the rest of us boys, we of course shouldn’t treat them any differently.    I was very competitive and to quote A Day To Remember, “2nd Sucks,”  and letting the girls who were also playing with us get the ball instead of me felt like a violation of what every boy usually wants when it comes to a competition; to win.  In order to do that, I had to play hard. 

Boy, was I wrong.

 

2nd Sucks Shirt Song A Day To Remember, playing, sports
2nd does suck, and no competitive young guy wants to come in second.

It didn’t even matter that I wasn’t really attracted to fine bootys, and still am not till this day.  I remember explaining my situation to another classmate who related how he got in trouble for the same thing – though I don’t know if it was intentional, but now I suspect it wasn’t.  Apparently I got off easier as I was becoming a charmer even at 12.

I was a spunky somewhat nerdy 6th grader, who liked to play hard.   Yes, I was still a geeky booky nerd who enjoyed board & table top games along with PC games, but I liked to tumble, so to speak, and I was desperate to prove my capabilities to the rest of my classmates who still viewed my poorly groomed self as someone to be made fun of.  Recess was my favorite part of school usually, and I looked forward to it as a way to finally get out of my seat and prove myself on the playground.

Soccer was very popular at my school, and we all played it.  I knew that proving myself on the field during recess and lunch time would at least give me some measure of respect in the eyes of my “bully” who the soccer god at school and whose words shaped opinions on just about everything. It was one of my first exercises in masculinity – proving my worth.

This included the girls, some of them who were pretty damn good.  At first, I would slide tackle them as I would anyone else, however when I did, I always received some kind of scorn if one of them got “hurt” during the tackle.   Even if I was treating girls equally in how I played and competed with them, I was still “bad”, if they got hurt in the process.  The “protector” instinct manifested itself with the rest of my male classmates and those who violated it – even in an unknown demonstration of “equality” on the playground – would know about it.

I can recall another time when another female teacher – she was a good lady – pulled me aside off the field after several of the girls playing along with us complained I was playing too hard and was acting “crazy” in my desire to win the ball back.   She told me something along the lines of how she understand how I played hard, but the girls didn’t.   Imagine me in a similar situation in the present day.

Now that I think about it, if I was now in sixth grade in a public school, I could have been accused of sexual harassment for my rough play.  It didn’t even cross my mind at the time, but considering how hostile public schools now are to young males,  I could have been railroaded because the teachers would have already assumed I was inappropriately touching female classmates during physical play at recess.  Even more unfortunate is that with teachers and staff being 90% female, they might not understand the rough play isn’t sexual in nature, even if they have sons, because it is the age in which boys often have just hit puberty.

Even if they do realize the above and choose not to play with the girls, they can still get in trouble for excluding the girls, specifically if some demand to play with them.  Of course the boys shouldn’t have to worry about the risks of accidentally touching or brushing up against them the wrong way, and should be happy to use the time as a reason to connect with those girls later and get to know them better.   (At least that’s what I tried to do at the age because most girls didn’t like drawing pictures of Sonic , playing Tony’ Hawks Pro Skater 2, or nerding out to tabletop games.)

Fast-Forward

Occasionally, I’ll play floor hockey that’s technically “co-ed” on Sunday nights and I’ve noticed I’m afraid to play hard against any girls – the ones who actually show up – for fear that if they get hurt, I’ll be looked at like some form of Hitler.

Some co-ed sport activities aren’t a bad time, but if you want to unleash your inner competitive animal, it won’t happen when your afraid of accidentally hurting someone else’s wife or girl in front of the entire gym.   The guys only floor hockey I played in a few times on Thursday’s demonstrated the satisfying feeling of not having to worry about holding back, so much so in fact, that there’s almost been a few fights with the smell of sweat rank in the air.

I feel bad for young boys today who want to play hard with their female classmates, but when they do, realize that there are unexpected consequences for embracing the “equality message” preached in schools, which wont be an acceptable defense when they end up brushing up against the ass of the wrong high-school queen who might exact vengeance through both white knights and school staff on the lookout for sexual harassment.

Note I went to a private Christian school for 6th grade, with well-meaning staff and teachers.

Inspiration from 2nd sucks comes from this song, which I will admit, moshing to anytime it’s played live.

 

The Day I Realized My “Fight Or Flight” Instincts Were Lacking

A few weeks back, I attended the rather family friendly music and entertainment fest known as “Summerfest” in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.   Me, my best friend Tim, and one of our other friends Bill all drove up together to “enjoy” the fest and the insane price of beer which averages 8$ for a splendid cup of piss-water domestics such as Miller Lite.  We had several hours to kill before we would see “A Day To Remember” and “Linkin Park”

Before A Day To Remember started, a rather terrible band by the name of “PLP MVR” began to play – my guess is that they won a contest to open up for what was rather a large crowd in the Marcus Amphitheater on the summerfest grounds.

Me, Tim, Bill and several other people all joined in making pointed jabs at how bad the band was.  I overheard one guy near us remark, “This is like a bad trip from shrooms without the shrooms.”  He was of course quite correct.   The band was literally dressed up in costumes that resembled “furries” and the drummer looked like Barf from Mel Brooks classic parody, “Spaceballs.”

This band opened and it was terrible.

Posted by Lucas Temple on Saturday, July 25, 2015

To say the band was out of place in light of the aggressive music that the crowd was there for – A Day To Remember has screaming, breakdowns, ect in their music – is an understatement.

Chester from Linkin Park can still scream quite well.This was from summerfest when me, Bill Punman, and Tim Sheridan saw them

Posted by Lucas Temple on Thursday, July 23, 2015

Now this is necessary to disclose:  if I’m honest, I have a loud mouth, am outspoken, and sarcastic.

No, this isn’t a bad thing, and I fully embrace this part of my personality and utilize it – it gets me laid. Unbeknownst to me, a large and fat tall man about two benches down was fuming and I didn’t see the steam pouring from his ears.

Instantly a giant of a man – about 6.2 or 6.3 was out of his seat in what seemed to be slow motion and suddenly was winding up his fist to take a swing in my direction. My best friend Tim managed to put himself in between the beast – who was at least two times my size – and myself.   I’m lucky, because I frozen.  No warning, nothing.  He hadn’t said anything to me or Tim and Bill, so there had been no indication that he was angry.

I froze like a piece of ice in -30 degree weather.

I would have taken several punches before my instincts of getting away would have kicked in.  (More on that later. It was then and there, I decided I was going to have to de-escalate the situation and it meant that I was going to have to essentially beg for mercy. I did.

“I’m sorry man, you’re right, you are right!!!

“You are Right!”

I pumped this phrase out multiple times in under a minute and it seemed to get him to back down after the first initial, “You little punk ass bitch.”   (Note that’s all I remember of the insults he managed to spew. That and something about beating my ass.)  Somehow, I was consciously aware that I didn’t want my best friend taking punches to the face for me, nor for our other friend Bill right besides me to have the same happen to him.

Note, this is basic placation on my part and you’d be surprised how many people’s ego you can stroke and in the meantime the bombs you can defuse by uttering the phrase, “You are right”.     On some sub-conscious level, hearing that from a perceived opponent makes us feel victorious.

If you don’t already know, I’m one of those “lover not a fighter” types.  Also, remember, this guy is at least twice my size.

Yea, he's alot bigger then me.
Yea, he’s alot bigger then me.

When situations have gotten “dangerous”, I’ve always been able to evade possible brutes by the fact that I’m simply much faster, nimbler,  quicker, and in better shape in my 5 foot 7 body. Luckily, I have more aggressive physical friends who are willing to get in trouble with the law to fight off guys they consider to be picking on me;  someone who is usually “not my size.”    Note, those specific friends WERE NOT THERE.

My pride was somewhat thrashed, but my face was intact. That’s actually a big deal, because my face is my moneymaker and what has allowed me to land girls with my game still needing plenty of work.

Minutes later, the thought continued to roar through my head…

Why didn’t I quickly bounce off my seat and dart away?

I’m fast, quick, and agile. I pride myself on it.

Why I had been frozen stiff like a piece of cardboard?

The amphitheater benches around us had plenty of room for me to jump off my seat and simply jump step from one bench to another and eventually down to security in the lower deck area and the various police on duty for the event.

Now in my defense, I really wanted to see both of these bands – specifically Linkin Park who I had never experienced live.  I didn’t want to take a chance in us getting kicked out and I prefer to avoid contact with the police whenever possible.  (Insert my half middle-eastern identity politics card right here.)  I now believe I showed the proper discretion in apologizing profusely and preventing an actual all out brawl between this guy and the three of us.

Chances are, we would have all been kicked out and it would have been my fault considering it was my loud mouth that essentially kickstarted the entire debacle.   The price of the tickets, gas, ect would not have been the only issue, but taking off work, and finding another time and date the bands were coming through would have caused me to hurt the night my friends had anxiously anticipated for weeks now..

Later the next day, I mentioned this experience to Tim’s cousin Justin who is also both of our best friends; the three of us are like brothers.  (All three of us have known each other for over 15 years as well as having lived together.)

(1) Justin mentioned that he can remember at least one time, I essentially dissed some girl – easier to do then you realize – in a bar and two of her male friends were about to white knight and beat the shit out of me.  Again, luckily for me Justin and two of his more physical friends were there who have a reputation in the town and those two white knights backed down.  (2) In fact,  I can recall another time where a friend of mine mentioned that my loud mouth at a bar was attracting the attention of at least one guy who looked like he wanted to fight me.  He pointed this out later that night, and I was again completely oblivious to it.

Confession: I haven’t been in a physical fight since first grade.  I was THAT sheltered.  Or if you look at court costs, tickets, and fines these days perhaps I was that wise and mature.  Either way, I don’t know how to defend myself besides “legging” it.

Lacking “Flight or Fight” Instincts

This all caused me to realize I have a glaring deficiency; I dont have strong instincts.   I didn’t see that guy coming at all, nor was I aware of the white knights who were looking to beat my ass.

What happens if my friends aren’t there one of these times?  I’m a rather outspoken person when conversations occur, and at some point, it will land me in trouble, because I won’t back down from what I say, I’ll just hightail it away.  Now, while I’ve shot some firearms and I fervently watch the UFC, I have no real idea how to throw a proper punch or how to defend myself, so I count on my quickness and speed to get myself out of dangerous situations.   In this case none of that matter; I was essentially blindsided and oblivious to him until his fist was raised and I noticed Tim was in front of me.  I was frozen stiff and only was then suddenly registering what was about to happen. .

What use is my speed and quickness to avoid punches if I wasn’t able to see them coming?  Take note that the guy was (1) two benches down from me  (2) had to climb up towards me (3) at his easily bulging 350+ pounds he was probably much slower then me considering just how obese he was.

It took this experience to show me this and it’s one I won’t forget anytime soon.  Any man should know how to defend himself and have the instincts to do it – especially considering that I want a wife and kids – so I better know and be able to protect them.

So how do I develop these instincts?

There really aren’t alot of good answers out there and I wasn’t able to find much in the manosphere either – with the exception of “The Warrior Gene – Is Alpha Genetic?” via TheRationalMale – so I’m not entirely sure.  Mike Cernovich at Danger & Play however has an insightful series about, How Survive A Street Fight Part 1 and  Part 2 if I ever found myself in a fight.

A quick google search with “Fight or Flight Instinct” and a mixture of other search terms gave me helpful hits like this that are about stress, rather then actual physical altercations. (1), “What Women Can Teach You About Real Strength” and the subtitle was, “Play Down the Fight-or-Flight Instinct”.  (2) “”Fight Or Flight ” Theory Debunked: Stress Makes Men More Sociable and Cooperative”.   Yes, you read that right.  (3)  They tried and failed at answering this over at the GoodMangina project, “In the Face of Stress, Do Men Always “Fight or Flight”?

As one astute commenter pointed out, “Isn’t fight-or-flight the accepted response to danger to one’s physical wellbeing? In the case of being surprised by a angry boar or a potential mugger, I’m not sure “tend-or-befriend” are a valid fundamental dichotomy.”   I faced a walking fat bear, and I was definitely surprised.

(4) Pyschology Today suggested in “Is Our Survival Instinct Failing Us?” that the instinct doesn’t even work well in modern warfare and again dealt with “stress.” (5)  Calm Clinic again addressed stress, but emphasized exercise as a way to cope with anxiety.   It did however bring up the point that we face a “lack of dangers”, which perhaps suggest that this is an issue of training.

Quintus Curtius in his masterful book,  Thirty Seven: Essays On Life, Wisdom, And Masculinity”,  addresses the idea of training and education for young men in chapter seven of the book by drawing on Italian humanist and literal Renaissance man, Pier Paolo Vergerio, for inspiration.   Quintus sums up Vergerio’s points regarding the issue of training and education with 27 points, three of which are pertinent to what happened to me.

11. The finest studies for leadership are those based on arms (military) and letters (history, philosophy, languages, and rhetoric). Everyone wants to be learned in old age, but to achieve this one must start early and exert “zealous effort.” Being learned in letters and arms will provide a remedy against “sloth” and solace in the face of worry and stress.

16. The training of the body is of paramount importance. It should be conditioned from a young age for rigorous service, military ability, and endurance. Young men should be hardened from a young age to endure pain and discomfort of all sorts , so that they are not broken by the strains of life and struggle. They should also be taught to “dare great things.” The Cretans and Spartans valued hunting, running, wrestling, and jumping, and sought ways to train themselves to endure hunger, thirst, cold, and heat. Luxuries weaken the mind and body.

19. Since battle tactics are constantly changing, a forward thinking youth will attempt to master the martial arts and self-defense arts of his day. This should include mastery of weaponry, personal combat skills , horsemanship, and movement over rugged terrain carrying heavy loads or equipment. There are many different kinds of combat. “For things are done one way in a melee; another when the decision rests on a battle formation; another when there is an infantry charge, and another when combat takes the form of a duel.”

Unfortunately, I was never taught martial arts, tactics, or any training of the body.  I won’t make the same mistake with my kids however.