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.

 

Angry Conversation With a Stranger On A Train

It’s October of last year in the evening. I’ve made it to the train station just in time, half-walking and half-jogging.   My mood is somewhat relieved and I’m looking forward to listening to some music in the bliss of the ride home.

Hopping on the train at the Lake Forest stop, I grabbed a seat on the upper deck, put the other two down near me, and proceeded to lay down on them as a kind of makeshift bed.

Laying down, I glance up at my phone as I browsed through reddit and the newest stories of the perpetual outraged, headphones playing loud angry music in my ear.  Yes, I find Senses Fail to be quite relaxing.

Sounds.

Voiced sounds.

It looks like the guy across is talking to me.  His lips are moving.

Is he?

Yes, he is.

I take out my headphones and he wants to know if I’m okay,  as I was coughing while laying down.  He mentions that, “I’ve seen people die on this train.”

His tone of voice and his non-verbals are seeped in “hidden” distaste for me.  I ignore it, brush it off, and assure him I’m fine as I go back to Reddit.

15 minutes later I notice he is saying something again.

I take out my headphones to hear him.

By the way his mouth is moving and the look on his face, he doesn’t look happy.  This time he seemed VERY agitated about the way I was sitting. Apparently he thought I might be taking pictures of him with my phone, which I wasn’t.  I thought this odd considering how I was sitting and the direction I was facing.

He is now quite upset by the way I was laying down.

Again, he tells me that I am being rude.  How? My semi-open dangling legs were exposing my crotch to the Indian girl sitting several seats down and that was apparently very rude.

It was then that I realized I had been targeted.

He wasn’t going to let this go.  He was looking for a verbal confrontation and his cross-hairs had landed directly on me.

I sat up, took the initiative, and attempted to deflect and diffuse the verbal attacks.  I am a communications major after all.  Finally, perhaps I can see how well some of theories apply to real-world situations.

He’s in a half-rage mode; a strawman here and an angry passive-aggressive accusation there.  The anger and frustration in his voice is starting to build.   Conclusions and assumptions about me are landing left and right.

I’m taken back for a second. I was startled – almost confused.

What is this tumblr?  Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration.  

Picture courtsey of http://baptistnews.com/
Picture courtsey of http://baptistnews.com/

Apparently I was some punk ass-kid/student from Chicago coming down here to get off at Libertyville station stop and I didn’t give a fuck about the other people on the train.  Perhaps it’s my “hipster look” that planted the seeds of wrath.  I prefer to think of it instead as well-groomed and well-dressed for my stature. 

I pointed out to him that NO ONE has ever objected to the way I’ve laid down before.

In fact,  it had NEVER happened before.  He was the first damn one.  I’m starting get irritated now with him and how this has all started.

He insists its a matter of being respectful. My inner philosopher ignites and I assume that he will have a post-modern framework for his concept on “respect” and as to what constitutes as my previous “rude” behavior.   I begin my philosophical adventure.

I proceeded to question him on how he knew what was “Respectful.”  He appeals to the way he was raised.  Interesting.   Apparently us young punks know nothing about respect – I secretly agree with him.

Further in the conversation reveals that he is basing his view of the concept on experience, tradition, and essentially his parents.   This actually creates in me some respect for him and it causes me to pause in my planned verbal retaliation.

I started trying to think to myself about why he was giving me such a hard time. It was a serious, “Dude, wtf?” moment of thought.   Should I stand up for myself and not put up with this crap?  Perhaps I wasn’t giving him a reason to respect me.

We were now at a point where  I suspected that other people were going to become involved as his tone of voice kept getting louder.

Great.

I wasn’t in the mood for this to escalate and as much as I enjoy uncomfortable situations, this was lacking the humorous and adventurous side  to it.  Also, I was hoping the conductors weren’t going to get involved, though I was certain they’d side with me.

No, I was going to fight my own battles.  That’s what a man does – when he can.

It was here the conversation turned.

I pointed out to him I lived in Fox Lake, I also told him about how I thought his age had nothing to do with whether I respected his opinions or not.  Living in Fox Lake meant that I wasn’t some spoiled rich yuppie from Libertyville who thinks that the world is my trash dump.

I ask a few questions meant to flush out what was bugging him – what had caused the initial simmer of suppressed rage inside him.  I knew there was more here than meant the eye.  No one flies off the handle over something so small…

Conversations like these – maybe not as heated at first as this one was – are something I live for.  They break up the routine of my day. I made the most out of this one and I’m glad I did, because I learned something. 

This fellow’s name was Jim.

I plied Jim for more about himself and he told me his back-story.   He’s a 53 year old micro-biologist who works his ass off to put his two of his three daughters through college. His marriage leaves much to be desired and “support” isn’t something he’s experienced in a while. He’s struggling financially, but fishing with his buddies at least gives him some reprieve.   Put blankly, he feels unfulfilled, confused, and somewhat jaded through life – a state of almost mental and emotional exhaustion.

Even though, my situation isn’t even close to his, I felt a kind of kinship for Jim – as man to man.   It’s no accident that I feel as I’ve met people just like him before with similar frustrations with life.

I feel a sense of sympathy for him.

During the rest of the ride and our conversation, he would apologize several times to me. Throughout the conversations, he would continue this regarding the initial assumptions he had made about me, but I told him not to worry about it.

“The past is the past,” I told him.   For the most part, that is a motto I live by.

Jim you see is a classic example of a guy going on through life who needs a chance to vent every once in a while, but doesn’t.  I don’t know if he’s ever really been given the chance, but I suspect he’s had this bottled up in him for a while.

It was the small action of the way I laid that set him off.  I had experienced my own WW1 spark in interpersonal conflict.

Jim is a good guy, but he’s been through a lot more than I would have thought.  . He tells me stories about how he’s been attacked and beat up in Fox Lake outside of bars.  Drinking sometimes has a steeper price than a hangover.

He was starting to see crime, drug deals around the Fox Lake train station and even right outside the Thortons nearby.  The realization of the scuminess of my town and that of humanity was getting to him. He emphasized that no one cared about what had happened to him or what was happening around.

That was what got me. No one cared about what he had seen, heard, and experienced so he never bothered to vent about it.    No support, he just kept it tightly wrapped and wound up.

What happened to Jim – just one action- that magnifies to a great extent the rest of what he has been feeling and seeing can happen to myself.

I literally told him when we got off the train, “There’s only so much a man can handle before he explodes.”  I’ll never forget the look on his face. It was one of gratitude and of shock in that he realized I understood him – despite our difference in age and situations.

                                    In every story and conversation there is a lesson.

 

All men out there need a time and a chance to vent.   This isn’t toxic masculinity; it’s the necessary expression of rage and anger that we are forced to keep a lid on.

This of course doesn’t change the fact that most men keep this rage, frustration, depression, and anger pent up.   Some have found ways to manage – the gym, 1st person shooters, sports, ect, but is it enough?  I suppose  these methods won’t get your a way that won’t get you arrested, hated, and in constant fights with your wife, but there must be more.

We all need friends – real friends – as an outlet and as support to  get things off your chest that no one else will understand or be able to hear.   Your wife, girlfriend, or effeminate therapist wont’ be able to console you in the same way that other men will.  These male friends can provide you with the wisdom that is gained from the experience of life, as well as the understanding of the vast challenges that men face in today’s culture.

They won’t BS you, but they will hear you out, and offer the necessary – if rough – advice that others won’t.  Reddit might be one way to do this, but face-to-face with close male friends is the best.  This isn’t homosexual, it’s simply men getting close with another and bonding over the challenges and quest that is life.

Get it all off your chest.

We all have pent up rage that builds. It’s a matter of fact of life. The people who explode are some how seen as terrible, immature, ect but the reality of life is that this is just a natural part of humanity.

Let it go.

Don’t be afraid to tell your friends what’s really on your mind.  Be yourself and I’m not saying that in a BS “feel good” cultural way.  Find and make close male friends who are willing to help you out and offer you solid wise advice.

Before we parted ways at the station, Jim told me he was glad the conversation happened.

I was too.

It was a raw unfiltered and genuine conversation that should happen between men more often.

 

Why Living Like A Villain Is Shallow

The False Allure Of Villainy

Recently, I’ve stumbled across several articles and posts dedicated to the benefits of living like a villain and why we should consider it.   There were three main points the writer made in the article, Why You Should Live Life Like A Villain, on ROK:

– Villains live more fulfilling lives than heroes.

– Villains command much more respect than heroes.

– The hero never gets the girl while the villain is always up to his eyebrows in pussy.

So essentially, you have to sell your soul if you want to get the girl and enjoy life.  I firmly disagree with this.  On our deathbeds, do we really want to have lived a life that deep down we were ashamed of?   No, I am not encouraging you to be a White Knight.   In fact, refusing to be an asshole doesn’t automatically mean the only alternative to that is “White Knighting.”

Don’t get me wrong, because I actually see his point. Yes, the bastards/assholes get laid and the nice-guys flounder in the wind. This is why it might be necessary to invoke just a bit of your inner asshole to get your foot in the door to meeting a girl you are actually interested in.  However, do you want to be an asshole for you entire life?  In marriage, work, friends, life?

Becoming What You Hate

Notice one of the core tenants of becoming a villain: Being an asshole. The kind of women who are attracted to “bad boys” are likely not LTR material and certainly aren’t marriage material. They might be good for a one night stand, but you will never be able to be “bad enough” before it catches up with you – either legally or through isolating your friends and family – in the long run.

What makes a “bad boy” or an asshole? Let’s think about it for a second. Knowing exactly what you want in a relationship and when to move on doesn’t make you an asshole, rather it makes you carefully think through what you are seeking for in any relationship – including all of the pros and cons.   Mike Cernovich makes this point about becoming “Alpha”:

I’d never hate on a  man who went monogamous. Being alpha is about getting what you want. If you’re in a relationship that makes you happy, good for you.

If you are looking for a romantic relationship with a girl who only is interested in being your friend, move on immediately as you will be disappointed.

Jen Kim in an article in Psychology Today wrote a response article to, “Do Assholes Really Finish First? asking, “Do Girls Really Love Assholes?”

SBK writes: “Bad boys tend to have lots of positive traits that come along for the ride of the badness such as good looks, confidence, creativity, humor, charisma, high energy, and good social skills— all things women find attractive.”

He also found that for men “one striking direct path to mating success stood out… low agreeableness; the lower the agreeableness, the more sexual partners.”

If there is anything TRP has taught me, it’s that confidence is the most important thing anyone can have and that there is a difference between being an asshole and having confidence.   It is often “confidence” – more on this later – which helps to create all the “asshole” attributes mentioned in the quote above.  The article “Do Assholes Really Finish First?” went into some detail about the success of Tucker Max, who has been able to make a name and a prosperous living off his tales of being an asshole.

He Eventually Destroyed His Entire Life

However, it seems the shallowness of being an asshole as burnt him out. He literally is doing a form of penance with a reverse pendulum swing to his new site, “Mating Grounds” which is essentially a politically correct tip site on dating advice that we all know doesn’t work too well.   Being an asshole however, did burn him out as he points out when he finally came back “online” after years of hiatus:

I was a ridiculous narcissist in my twenties. It’s not even that I didn’t care about other people. It’s way beyond that. I just didn’t even understand that other people even existed or mattered. I do not believe I was a true NPD [narcissistic personality disorder] in the clinical sense. But, dude, I was close.“I ended up hurting a lot of people and not even realizing it. Because of that narcissism, I didn’t connect well to other people. I used a lot of people a lot of times, in ways I didn’t understand.

Separating Confidence From Assholes

The reason why people aspire to be “assholes” is that they don’t realize it is the confidence that assholes have that enables them to be successful with women and other endeavor in their lives.  Assholes often show signs of being willing to take risks, being brave, and having ambition. For some reason however, people forget that they can be all of these things – an develop all of those traits in the quote mentioned above – without actually being an asshole.

Let’s face it; assholes are often shallow people.  They become the narcissists that we despise.  One reason so many of us rightfully dislike feminism is because it turns people into “victims” in which everything is about them and is the fault of somebody else.  These people continually attempt to “out-victim” each other and get enraged when you refuse to accept their bullshit.

They get what they want through manipulation and bullying other people – often via social media and political pressure – into going along with what they want.  We rightfully condemn these assholes for what they are.  Do we really want to become like them and become serial manipulators obsessed with only ourselves first?

Enjoying Life: Transcending Pleasure And Money

We all want to enjoy life.  We NEED other people around and with us to do exactly that. Like it or not, it is other humans – that unique component to life – that make it worth living.

If you want to attract girls and be someone who other men want to be around, become a man.   Act like a man. Develop a character that bursts from the seams with masculinity.    Make sure they can see it through what your actions and what you say.  This is where a lot of confusion has taken place in what society – specifically Social Justice Warriors and feminists have defined as being an asshole.  Ignore the repugnant nonsense they spew about what makes an asshole, especially considering that this exactly what they have turned into themselves.

Despite what feminists say about what is “toxic masculinity” in men and how it equates to being an asshole, I encourage all of us to be men and to let our masculinity pour from every fiber of your being.   Their definition of toxic masculinity is often exactly what men should strive to become. Never forget that.

You don’t have to be a boy scout for the sake of others. You do however want to be a man of courage, honor, and integrity because it is a masculine virtue that will improve your life.  It will build up networks of real friends who can become like a second family.  The key concept there is “Real Friends”, something which is non-existent for assholes whose “friends” amount to people dedicated to using and manipulating each other.

It will help you to see through the bullshit of the deceitful and at the same time let others see you for the real man that you are.  People want to be around men who are actually courageous and honorable.  Real virtues are something that the epic heroes of history have aspired to and they attracted the sort of motivated, ambitious, and honorable companions that we all at our very core desire.

Yes, we can romanticize “heroes” to the point of a fantasy that serves no purpose toward improving ourselves and our character.   Will aspiring to be a villain as a replacement construct any better of a fantasy? Do any of us – hero or villain – really want to die alone?

Being a villain – specifically one who is an asshole and a narcissist is shallow as people will eventually see you for what you are; a man whose narcissism which will eventually destroy himself.  It’s like getting credit card debt.  You can spend all the money you want now, but later you will still have to pay the piper, most likely with interest.   It may be “easy” and profitable in the short-term, but it will have negative consequences in the long-run.  Perhaps those may never actually be financially, but living with yourself and the destruction of your soul will take their own toll.

Go ahead and lie to yourself about how satisfying it supposedly make your life.  If we are actually honest with ourselves, we full well know deep down that there is so much more to a fulfilling and enjoyable life then the supposed romantic allure of “living like a villain”.   Real life satisfaction comes from becoming a man and living like one.