Tag Archives: Personal

An Anecdote

Recently, I was downtown walking to my truck after an evening out. An aboriginal women in her 30’s approached. She was obviously either somewhat drunk or high (or possibly mentally ill). She could talk clearly and walk straight, but was noticeably ‘off’, she tended to repeat herself and seemed paranoid. I haven’t had enough experience with drug users to determine what she had partook in. She asked me for cab fare. I offered a couple of loonies and twonies ($1 and $2 coins, for you Yanks) in my pocket, but she refused.

She then told me, she didn’t need cab fair, she needed me to call her a cab. She said she was afraid and didn’t trust anyone, but she needed to get back to her hotel. Which was odd, because she was trusting me and I was a complete stranger and probably not especially trustworthy-seeming as I looked exceedingly redneck-prol at the time. She didn’t want to call the cab herself because she was afraid they would be “mean” (her word, but by the intonation of it she clearly meant something darker) to her and would not come for her, but they would listen to me. She repeated herself often as we talked, and at one point even offered me $20 to call a cab (after I was already on the phone and which I did not take).

I phoned a cab, as she continued on. She repeated multiple times she was afraid of dying and didn’t trust anyone. She didn’t want to be downtown because bad men might do something to her. (As she talked to me, a strange man with a redneck beard, a heavy metal shirt, and camo jacket), but didn’t want to phone a cab herself, because she didn’t trust them.

The call finished, a cab was coming. She thanked me, repeatedly and profusely, with obvious relief in her eyes. Then offered a handshake, which I took and she held for much longer than normal. She spent the next minute or two switching between thanking me and saying she was afraid. In the middle of her ramblings, she said something in the neighbourhood of ‘I knew I could trust you because you’re white’.

The cab showed up on the other side of the, it was, as usual, being driven by a man from the Indian subcontinent.

The women turned to me and thanked me again, and asked me to work her across the street and talk to the driver. She said she was afraid of the driver, that he would do something to her, but if a white man like me told him I was her friend and asked him to take her to the hotel she would be fine. So, I took her across the street (as she held my arm like an old lady did a boy scout’s) and helped her into the cab. I then told the driver to ‘please take my friend to her hotel’. She thanked me a couple times more through the open door, then off they went.

****

For those who aren’t from Canada, aboriginal-white relations are akin to black-white relations in the US. Our ghettos are aboriginal neighbourhoods (although, not as bad as American ghettoes), aboriginals have high poverty rates, and aboriginals make up a disproportionately large number of criminals. The aboriginals are our designated primary oppressed group, so the media/academy/bureaucracy goes to great lengths to pump up white guilt about our historic treatment of aboriginals and fan the flames of racial greivance in aboriginals. All this is especially so in the western provinces because we have a comparatively high number of aboriginal.

Despite all this, a white man was the one this women turned to when she was afraid. She was afraid of the licensed cab driver, but turned to the random white stranger for help. She also thought the cab drivers would trust me, but would not trust her. She used me, a white man as an intermediary/shield between her and the cab drivers and her and the dangerous/frightening downtown (mainly frightening/dangerous because of those sharing her ethnicity).

While this is just one random incident with a women who was probably high and may not be indicative of anything, it does lead to ask, despite all the oppribrium sent our way, are we white men particularly trusted, particularly when it comes to inter-ethnic interactions? I looked, but a search didn’t turn up any studies or data on how much the different races trust other races.

Jenny

I am shown a picture. It is of my youth group at a ski trip. In the picture is a pretty blonde, I’ve seen her around before. I must know her name. “Who is that, I don’t recognize her?”

“Jenny.”

****

I sit in church, she’s sitting with her family. 14-year-old perfection in a blue shirt. I do not hear the sermon, I stare. I notice I’m staring and look away. I try to pay attention to the pastor and his message of God, but my eyes drift inexorably towards His earthly angel. I need to talk to her after the service.

I don’t.

****

I have been roped into greeting people coming to church. I stand near the door, shaking hands and saying ‘hi’. A few people ask me how I’m doing, I answer as I always do, “fine.” My eye wanders expectantly towards the entrance as I hand out bulletins. Finally, I am rewarded. She comes into view. Her top is cut just right; it is modest and wholesome, yet the smallest bit of breast can be seen. My heart skips a beat, literally; it misses one pump, it hurts so good. How can just a square inch of milky-white flesh do this to me?

Never before have I had that strong a reaction to anyone; I did not know at the time, but I never would again.

This vision of perfection walks towards me. I can’t meet those green eyes, I look down. I shake her hand, say something, say anything. Out squeaks a “hi”, she says “hi” back. Say more, just speak, one sentence, that’s all, but my mouth refuses to open. She goes to sit down. My body is still roiling.

There will be other chances to talk with her.

****

At youth group, she’s there. A card game starts, I join, she joins. I’m good at games, this is my chance. Impress her, talk to her. She speaks, another replies. I stare intently at my cards. My gaze wanders to the face I think of every day, I pull it quickly back to my cards. Over and over again. The turns pass, I continue to draw and play saying nothing. Some conversation is engaged in by the others, but mostly it is silence. The game ends, I win, yet I know I lost.

****

I am at the mall with my mother. She asks about my life. She asks about girls. I tell her of Jenny, she tells me that’s cute. I say, but she’s 3 years younger than me. My mother says three years doesn’t matter. I hope, but am not sure if I believe her.

****

I am at youth group. A group is talking. I enter the group and stand beside her. Speak! But what do I say? Anything, just speak. What if I say something stupid? Just say something, I can’t. You must. I turn my head towards her, my mouth opens, and nothing comes out. My mind curses me.

****

I am newly 18, now a youth leader. We are at a corn maze, I see her and her sister enter. I follow behind. I catch up. We talk. An actual conversation, our first. It turns out the younger girl is her niece, not her sister. We walk through the maze, conversation flowing, awkwardly, but flowing.

“I’m cold.” “You can borrow my jacket.” “No thanks.”

Conversation continues.

“We should ditch my niece and go off by ourselves.” “That doesn’t seem very nice.”

We continue talking and talking through the maze. We get through after an hour and end up at the camp fire.

She sits elsewhere, I stare into the fire, poking it with a stick as I daydream of us. I have a natural high for the next month.

****

A few weeks later, at youth group. She walks up to me. She’s wearing a Corona jersey that drapes most wonderfully over her perfect breasts. The white highlights her pale skin. She smiles her perfect smile, and says “hi”. Her beauty transcends words.

I say “hello” back. She stands there, looking at me. Say something! what? Anything. Anything? Ask her about her week. How? I don’t know, just do it.

Time passes. She talks to someone else nearby.

****

I am talking with my mother and sisters. Relationships come up. I mention Jenny, both my sisters go “awwww”.

****

After church, she stands alone, leaning against a wall. Her lips are redder than usual, her hair in a ponytail. She’s wearing black leather boots and a leather jacket. She looks classy, cute, and sexy, all at once. I need to talk to her. I go lean against the wall nearby. I should speak. I say nothing. We both stand and lean for minutes.

I hate myself, but there will be other chances.

****

I am on the bus. I daydream of Jenny, as I do every day. I dream of holding her in my arms. I dream of coming home to her smile each day. I dream of the little blonde children we will have. The dreams are wonderful, yet painful and lonely. It tears at me.

I daydream of something less painful, of killing myself, of peace.

****

At church, she’s leaning against the wall again. So very pretty, I should talk to her. I will… After I help put away the chairs.

The chairs are put away, she’s still there, go talk to her. I will… but first I have to think of something to say.

You’ve though of something, talk to her. I will!

I walk towards her.

I can’t. I turn.

I walk home, raging at myself.

I get home, I cry.

****

I am 20, it is Christmas Eve. It has been a half-year since I have seen her. Months of daydreams, yet each month thinking of her less. I think about her only a few times a week. I vaguely wish to see her again.

I get my wish. I see her walk in. Her golden hair wreathes her angelic face. She looks the season in her classy crimson top. So very pretty.

I sit in the back, I can barely take my eyes off her the entire service. What should I say to her.

The service ends.

I walk out and stand in the hallway. She’s just inside the auditorium, I can talk to her. I can’t. I rage at myself. My friend notices me and asks why I am out here by myself, pacing. I tell him. Go talk to her.

I enter back into the main room. She’s leaning against the same wall as before. I stand in the back instead. I muster courage for 10 minutes. While I muster, she leaves with her family.

On the way home, my mother asks me what’s wrong. I don’t tell her.

****

The day after Valentine’s Day. My mother tells me she saw Jenny, she was at a Valentine’s supper at my church with someone else.

She goes back upstairs. I cry on my bed.

****

In my mid-late 20’s, reading my facebook feed. Her niece’s profile comes up as a friend of a friend. I haven’t really thought of Jenny in years, but I wonder. I go into her friend’s list. Search “Jennifer”. There’s a Jennifer,  but the last name’s different. I click the profile picture; the girl in the dress matches my vague memories of Jenny’s face. She’s with a man in a suit. More pictures, pictures of children, pictures of her smiling with her children.

She’s aged, no longer the 14-year-old angel of my dreams. She’s now chubby, the perfect curve of youthful hip and breast hidden under a small layer of fat.

And yet, she’s still beautiful. Her smile still glistens and her flaxen hair still glows. I feel a dull ache.

I close the browser, trying not to think.

****

A couple years later, apropos of nothing, I think of her. I wonder.

What if I had the social abilities then that I do now? What if I had been able to summon my courage then, as I can do now?

Would I have been able to win her heart? Would those children be mine?

What if, instead of an empty house, I came home each day to my beautiful, chubby, blonde hausfraus and our adorable little kinder? If those children were mine?

How would my life be different, how would I be different, if I had been a better man?

I write my memories down.

While writing, I’m curious once again, I search for her profile for the second time. She’s aged, she’s still vaguely pretty, but not beautiful. She has changed, or have I?

Would I still find her beautiful had I been a better man?

She recently celebrated her sixth anniversary. They seem happy in the few pictures of them, but most of the pictures are of children.

There is no dull ache, just a slight wistfulness.

I don’t know what to think, so instead, I share my thoughts with thousands of people I have never met. Hopefully my writing will help a younger version of me; maybe it will only confuse him more. Either way, I feel this needs to be written.

More on Courtship

A lot of people commented on my courtship experience. I can’t respond to everything, but here’s some things I’d like to point out.

First, I hold to the courtship model and believe it is the correct path. It is morally right and proper for civilization, and, if done properly, should be good for marriages. Chad wrote well on it in the comments:

Courtship is a tool from Christendom in which the families were involved so that emotional intimacy, physical intimacy, commitment, and logical “do these two people work together” proceeded along side each other in practical steps towards marriage and creation of a family. It openly acknowledged that emotional intimacy leads to physical intimacy, and that physical intimacy going too quickly can lead to a lack of commitment on either party’s part as well as delude those sexually lusting after each other that they’d work well when they become one flesh.

Even in it’s hayday, courtship was something that was a…. tenuous thing, at times. For humans have always been lustful, prideful, and rebellious; and unmarried youth are more so than any other. Hence where courtship was ignored, shotgun weddings were enforced.

That, also, is not to say that the system was abused by poor intentions of parents getting greedy or losing sight of the overall good of their child by focusing too much on any individual trait (beauty, lust, status, wealth, etc) rather than overall health of the child and, in particular, whether the person they were joining flesh with would help them achieve salvation and sainthood.

These days, courtship works where people acknowledge what it is – a system in place in which emotional intimacy and physical intimacy do not outpace commitment and logic. It does not, and SHOULD NOT, have the same form as old school courtship as our current societal failings have led to different expressions of individual failings. It should acknowledge that courtship is not engagement, nor is getting to know someone a little before asking to court them a bad thing. Most traditional families want to know the individuals before courtship is pursued, and when that is not possible, or they’re not as traditional, a few ‘casual dates’ for coffee or to a public activity is usually accepted. Meeting the father a first time is not unheard of, but I haven’t encountered a grilling such as FN as of yet.

The whole system is supposed to take two fallen human beings and place them together in a way to support each other through love; not topple into a fallen state of sin, nor make princesses/saints out of fallen women, nor kick a Brother in Christ out to the curb with nothing but his coat and tattered remains of dignity and respect.

Any courtship that doesn’t align with reality is not courtship, but a twisted perversion of delusional ‘love’ which is lacking in all that makes love beautiful.

As did Cail:

The main difference between courtship and dating is that when you ask to court a girl, you’re declaring up front that if things go well, you’ll be proposing in the near future, and if things get to a point where one of you decides marriage isn’t in the cards, you break it off. It’s dating for the stated purpose of discerning marriage. All this other stuff about questionnaires and hyper-chastity is just extra weirdness that people are trying to call courtship because it makes it sound traditional and churchy.

I wholeheartedly support the involvement of family in the creation and development of relationships and marriages and the right of parents to veto a daughter’s relationship choices. The lack of family involvement in marriage leads to the screwed up sexual and

That modern ills and individual flaws are a part of modern courtship does not invalidate the model. No system is perfect.

My story is not a criticism of courtship as a system, it is a criticism of the incorrect application of the system.

****

Second, I submitted to the father because he had the right to my submission in regards to courting his daughter. A father has the right, the duty, to screen his daughter’s suitors. He also has the right to put whatever conditions he deems necessary on his daughter’s suitor and end the relationship if he desires. I believe in this case the father went about that screening in an incorrect way, but even if he was wrong it was fully within his rights to make the wrong decision.

If you do not accept a father’s right to do this, you are not a friend of patriarchy, you are the ally of the modern sexual marketplace and an enemy of civilization.

On the other hand, I know I should have been more forceful in my interactions with the parents. I was caught off guard: this was not a social situation for which I was prepared or had developed a system. I think prariepolyguy had the right idea:

Your goal with that kind of thing is to establish peerage, that’s why I say answer questions and pose counter-questions. He can’t simply banish you for being disrespectful because you aren’t being, but you don’t just sit and submit to his whim like a pussy and don’t lose face with the girl…

I also would have asked for it to be private, between me and the father. As Barnabas said:

It strikes me that the problem isn’t so much the grilling, its that the daughter is present. This should be a conversation between men with daughter and mom not present. Best approach if faced with such a situation would be to demand a private discussion.

****

Third, as her husband I would have taken over the leadership role from her father, but that transfer of leadership does not occur until the wedding, or at the very least the engagement. It is simply wrong to think that I have any headship over a woman to whom I am not married.

****

Fourth, for those of you saying I should have not have submitted to the father, but instead taken the girl against the father’s wishes, you are wrong. If she was the kind of girl who would disobey her father and abandon her family for a man she had known for only a month, she is not the kind of girl I would want to marry. The woman who will rebel against and abandon her father under the influence of passion is the same woman who will rebel against and leave her husband under the influence of passion. Once the father had denied the relationship, the only way we could have had a relationship is if she was the type of girl I would not want to have a relationship with.

****

Fifth, I’ve had more reasonable experiences with asking the father’s permission for courtship. The other couple times I’ve done it the families were warm and inviting, we got to know each other casually over dinner, and they extended permission without much hassle. My courtship experiences as far as families go have generally positive experiences; this time was the exception.

****

Sixth, I know I should stop it with the porn. Every now and again I try. When I do, I may abstain for anywhere from a week or two to three or four months, but I always come back to it. It is my besetting sin.

Courtship and Young Men

A commenter at Donal’s asks: if there are so many desperate tradcon young women, why aren’t the tradcon young men courting them?

As a young man who could accurately be called a tradcon, I am going to tell a personal story from this winter which might illuminate.

I was on a Christian dating site, and sent a short message to a girl, she responded. After a few messages back and forth I invited her for coffee, she accepted and we met. Over the next month we went for coffee a few more times and I had her over for dinner and cooked her some Yakisoba. She was a sweet girl with good values, feminine, and joyful; somewhat plain, but attractive enough. I was the first man she had ever gone out with and she was taken with me and I was growing rather fond of her.

One night, I visited her church for the Christmas play service where she was playing Mary. After we went for coffee, chaperoned by one of her friends. We talked for an hour or two, at one point the topic of why she was on a dating site came up. She said it was because there were no men at her church. This confused me (well, it would have had I not been a reader of the manosphere), because I was sure I saw at least 3 or 4 unattached men at the Christmas service (not to mention she had previously told me stories of her interactions with one of her male friends at the church, from which, even never having met him, I could tell he liked her). So, I told her, ‘what do you mean, I saw a bunch of single men at your church.’ Her and her friend both had the same reaction: ‘yeah, but ewww.’

I did not press the point further, although I was happy I was no longer in the ‘ewww’ category as I had been years before.

My family celebrates on Christmas Eve, so we went to my parent’s house to meet my family, have Christmas dinner, go to our Christmas Eve service, and such. We had an enjoyable time, the atmosphere was relaxed and festive, my parents went out of the way to make her feel welcome, and they all took a great liking to her. Things went well.

The next day we went to her parent’s for Christmas. It was not to be their Christmas celebration for that was a major family get-together that was to take place at a different time, so it was just a basic supper. We drove out to their farm together. We walked in and I was sort of ignored (her parents, three of her brothers, and two of their wives were there; the girl was the only daughter with 5 brothers). I didn’t really know what to do, I had expected them to at least say greet me at the door, or say hi, or something. So, I said ‘hi’, put my gift on the table and sat down on a couch. I was then ignored for about 20 minutes. As regular readers may know, I’m not that good in social situations; Only twice before had I asked permission of a girl’s father and I’ve never been in a situation where I was in someone else’s home and been ignored, so I was out of my depth and experience and didn’t start a conversation with anyone but the girl. After a while, the father got to opening my gift, made a few jokes, then went back to ignoring me. One of the brothers did show me and the girl a cattle pen he had made, but other than that nothing. After another while, we all ate; nobody really talked to me and I didn’t really say much.

After supper, the parents seemed to notice my existence, and asked about me and the girl. I told them that we had gotten to know each other a bit, I was fond of her, and I would like their permission to court her. They then presented me with a list of dozens of questions (I’m not sure if this is the exact list, but if it isn’t it’s close enough for government work), saying me and the girl should go over them. I said we would. The parents then proceeded to grill me with questions straight off the page for the next hour or two.

I answered fully honestly. I am a mostly responsible, decent young man, but I am not perfect and have my failings. So most of the questions on employment, finances, home life, responsibility, church life, etc. I answered fine. Out of the many questions asked though , the parents got stuck on three major questions: alcohol, physical contact, and Bible reading.

I drink responsibly on occasion, but they were absolutely against any imbibement at all and they hammered on that point over and over, even though I said, if it was necessary I stop drinking while courting her I would (leaving it unsaid but implied that we would decide the alcohol question in the long-term as a couple; the girl herself didn’t drink but didn’t have problems with moderate alcohol consumption).

They asked about physical contact, I told them her and I had already discussed and agreed upon limits for physical contact previously (and they were strict limits) and although her desired limits were stricter than mine I would respect hers. Despite this they still did not like that my limits were not as strict as hers (for one example of the differences, I thought the engagement would be a good time for a first kiss, she wanted to wait until marriage); they then spoke approvingly of a young couple they knew that had worn boxes (actual, literal cardboard boxes) whenever they were alone together so they would not be tempted by physical contact.

The last was Bible reading. I answered that I don’t read daily; I tend to read sporadically but in-depth when there’s a topic I want to look into, but that I would take my duties as a leader of the family seriously and lead both my wife and children in regular Biblical study. That was not good enough for them, so I said I would start reading daily (and I did read daily for the next four months or so, even after the relationship ended).

A fourth area of concern was when they asked me what my greatest struggles in the faith were (this was after the Bible question): I said, ‘well, I guess I should read my Bible more and like most young men I struggle with lust.’ They then asked me about pornography, so I admitted in front of a dozen strangers that I do struggle with watching porn, but hadn’t watched in the last few weeks and was trying to stop (I stopped watching after our second date and continued to abstain for a few months after all this). Oddly, this didn’t seem to be that big deal to the parents, it was barely mentioned after that except for a joke (the alcohol question was far and away the big one, followed by the Bible one), but I mention it as this was the one that seemed to matter most to the girl.

After the grilling, the parents conclude that while they have concerns but aren’t going to kick me away. They get my e-mail and say they’ll keep in contact with me.

After we’re done, I drove home with the girl (and her friend who chaperoned us there and back on the 2-hour drive); we spend the first half hour in silence, then we talk, she was disturbed by the porn thing, so we talked about that, and she concludes she wants time for us both to think and pray, so she wanted a break for two weeks (when we were never even officially dating). So we had no contact for two weeks.

The parents e-mail me a couple days later and we go back and forth a bit as we discuss my readings of Ecclesiastes and Proverbs; things seem fine. A week or so later, I get a 2-page, heartfelt handwritten letter where she says we can no longer court (from the letter it sounds like its her idea), so I assume we’re done. I don’t respond as I agreed to no contact for two weeks andI didn’t have time to write a letter back. Then on the exact day the two weeks are over she texts me. We meet for coffee and talk. She offers to be friends; I say no, it’s either a relationship or we part ways. She thinks, and decides on a relationship; we then spend a happy evening walking outside in the January chill. We’re back together; we make plans to meet on Sunday.

On Friday I get an e-mail from her parents saying we can’t see each other anymore. I get a text from her a little while later; we text a bit over it. She says she’s going to obey her parents, and I encourage her to do so. We say goodbye. I respond to the parents asking if there’s any way I can earn their trust; I do not get a response. Me and the girl have not contacted each other since.

****

Maybe this is where the tradcon young men are: stuck between ‘ewww’ and and the impossibly high standards of parents. How many young men could possible be able to give the positive, hoped-for answers when surprised with a grilling on five dozen questions? (Oddly, had I simply lied or stretched the truth, we’d probably be courting).

Of those very few who could possibly meet those requirements, how many will not be ‘ewww’?

I would guess there is probably a huge positive correlation between being able to meet those dozens of parental standards and being an ‘ewww’ guy.

If parents and young women make it impossible for young men to live up to your courtship standards, how can they possibly complain about being unable to find young men.

****

This brings us to the next part, Moose Norsemen finds someone (Thomas) arguing why courtship is fundamentally flawed. I agree with Moose and I agree with courtship, but Thomas does make some good points.

The courtship movement eliminated dating and replaced it with nothing.

Or, put another way, they replaced dating with engagement. The only tangible difference between an engagement and a courtship is the ring and the date.

The goal of courtship is not to prevent marriage, it is to promote marriage by helping find suitable mates for men and women. Right now, it seems from what I’ve read around the web, that it is often used to destroy relationships rather than to create marriages.

A father should find a good man for his daughter, but how can he expect to when the first thing that happens when a young man comes a-calling is to grill him about every aspect of his life and boot him away if he doesn’t answer all 50 questions correctly?

How can a young man possibly think the risk and unpleasantness of that kind of grilling and the huge expectations of courtship is worth it for a girl he barely knows?

If I hadn’t gone on a number of dates and already developed a fondness for her in the month before meeting her parents, I would not have thought it worth it to go through that. What kind of men would willingly deal with that kind of ritual humilation before even spending any alone time with a girl? (The answer: The kind of man women go ‘ewww’ over).

You rarely hear of fathers trying to find and introduce good young men to their daughters; from the impressions I get, fathers seem to act primarily as a negative filter in courtship rather than a positive one.

There is no perfect young man, so if any flawed young man is rejected, who could there possibly be available to date young tradcon women?

****

So, if we want a better courtship, one that isn’t broken, what we need is one devoted to creating marriages, not siphoning out young men.

Parents should act as a positive force for marriage. Instead of simply screening out young men, they should be actively looking and screening in young men for their daughters. Introduce young men you approve of to your daughters (and vice versa). Meet with other families in shared family events to get young people together.

Courtship should be more relaxed. Courtship is not engagement and it should not be treated as such. It should, at first, be somewhat casual (with the long-term goal in mind) so the young couple can get to know each other. Young people in group activities, young men attending relaxed family events with the girl’s family, a few outings to public places, etc. Let them get to know each other before dumping all kinds of expectations on it. Expectations and seriousness should escalate over time.

Questions like those above should be gone over, but over time. Instead of playing bad cop on the first meeting, get to know him and learn these things over time by spending time with the young man.

It should be recognized that young men aren’t perfect. Instead of a father rejecting a generally good, but flawed young man his daughter fancies, he should work with the young man to help him better himself. (If the young man refuses to try to better himself, that is another story).

Courtship is not about keeping young men away from young women, it is about actively trying to create godly marriages.

****

In my particular case, it’s possible that the problem is me, as a commenter at Moose’s stated:

If it were me getting shot down by a bunch of dads as viable husband material for their daughters, I’d be asking WHY. I wouldn’t assume it was a problem with them first: I’d assume it was a problem with me.

I know I could be a better man in many ways, but I’ve only ever been shot down by that one father before, and most of the older adult males in my church and life seem to respect me and think well of me, enough so that I at their behest I have led the young adult small group in the past and, again at their request, am entering a leadership residency in my church. But I thought I should mention this as it might seem an explanation.

****

Because I’m sharing, here’s one more small story from university when I was just starting to work my way out of omega. I was part of a small group at my university Christian group. In this particular study there was me and one other guy and three young women. These young women were all in the 7-9 range. One I had asked out a year-and-half before and been rejected (she was the first girl I ever asked out), another I had asked out a few months before and been rejected, and the third had just broken up with her boyfriend a couple months before and we had been getting close to each other (we ended up dating later that year).

The topic of the sermon we were watching was dating, so we were talking about this. At one point, one of the young women said dating was hard because there were no good men. The other two agreed with her. I was shocked, so didn’t respond but I should have. I had personally asked out two of them and was very obvious in my intentions to the third.

All of these girls were very attractive, good girls and could have had any man they wanted. The one I knew the best had many male friends, I knew at least 3 or 4 guys (who were good men, if a bit socially awkward) who had either asked her out or were so obvious about liking her even someone as socially oblivious as I could tell. One had just gotten out of a year-long relationship, her third relationship in 3 or so years. The final one was one of the most beautiful women I had ever met and would occasionally tell stories of guys who had gone out of the way to compliment her.

I was an ‘ewww’ man at the time (but improving), so I didn’t count. I guess those other men didn’t count either.

These two stories are why I don’t believe women when they say they can’t find a good man or there are not good men. I have seen women who could have almost any man they want, who had numerous suitors (who were good men), , who had good male friends who obviously wanted them, who had been asked out by me specifically say there were no good men, when it was simply untrue. Unless a woman lives in a village of 50 people in the middle of nowhere, there probably are good men, the women’s probably just not counting them.

Oh, and just as a last little bit, two of those three women are married. The most attractive one is not; she’s 29 this year and, as far as I know, is still single.

****

So, for tradcon young women and their families, maybe it’s not that there are not good men, maybe it’s that men are stuck between ‘ewww’ and impossible standards.

Instead of young women and their families holding out for a suitor who is both super-attractive and able to meet a parent-approved 50-point bullet list, and rejecting any suitor who is not perfect, maybe give them a chance.

Parents, instead of rejecting that young man your daughter fancies, work with him* to help him improve himself. If she doesn’t have a suitor, work to help introduce her to good men. Be a positive force for marriage rather than a negative force.

Young women, instead of rejecting or ignoring those men you don’t see, make yourself available and say yes when you are asked out even if he is kind of awkward.* The worst that can happen is a few hours of unpleasantness and maybe you’ll be able to work with him to improve those awkward things that aren’t quite attractive.

****

* Obviously, I am not talking about unrepentant degenerates, those unwilling to try and better themselves, and the like here, just the normally flawed.

Disconnection

I read my Tweets. It seems the Oscars are tonight. Who knew? Thanks Anti-Dem blog, I guess. A lesbian who had a sitcom a couple decades ago took a picture; 2 million RTs. A lot of people it seems. Society is dying.

I read a newspaper article a friend sent me. It’s from the CBC.  It seems tribalism is evil; ethnic nationalism moreso. I almost forgot. Thankfully, this one was at least written by an adult with a functioning brain and a basic grasp on reality. I read another article, this one was not. The mind revolts; I remember why I don’t read newspapers anymore.

I’m visiting family. The TV is on while we talk. Commercials come on. I haven’t seen one in months; it feels like a mental assault. The stupidity almost hurts. Do I really feel the brain cells dying or is that psychosomatic? Has anyone, ever, been even half that excited over an egg sandwich before in their life? Even more, I am insulted someone, someone with a degree and a six-figure job, thought I would actually believe somebody could get that excited. The actor’s every expression screams backpfeifengesicht, yet I would be the one to go to jail. There is no justice. Wait, if they’re making this commercial somebody must actually be convinced to buy an egg sandwich because of it; the mind reels away from the horror. Finally the pause in conversation ends; I can ignore the terror.

I am riding the bus. An ad displays an idiot who is amazed, mouth agape, the government will subsidize his renovations. Does a thousand dollar subsidy from a nameless bureaucrat really elicit such an emotional outpouring? I wouldn’t even be that amazed if my office pool won the lottery. His face looks retarded. The urge to punch something, anything, stirs, so I look elsewhere.

Another ad. It’s a mentally handicapped man, looking slightly less retarded than the renovations guy. “I’m an athlete.” Despite being better at his sport than 90% of people will ever be at anything, “I’m an athlete.” is how you advertise him? I’m an emotionally-detached asshole, yet I’ve never been that condescending to anybody in my life. Why do the Special Olympics hate disabled people?

Another ad, but of a soldier advertising the military, something noble, something worthy. Looking past the uniforms, its a woman; still sacrifice is sacrifice. ‘I love that I’m a role model.’ Shudder. I look to the quote under the other women soldier beside her, ‘People take me seriously.’ Defeat overwhelms me. Where are the calls to flag, country, patriotism, duty, honour, sacrifice, freedom, hell, even democracy, something, anything, transcendent? The army is purposefully recruiting narcissists. My biggest regret for almost over a half decade was not joining the army after high school; that regret is almost gone. Why can’t I fall asleep?

I am at work. I overhear my coworkers discussing a show I’ve never seen. I stay in my cubicle. They move to discussing football; I don’t recognize the names. I stay seated.

I scan Slate semi-regularly just to keep some connection to the mainstream news and opinions. I rage at the stupidity and asininity, but at least it’s not Salon or the NYT or HuffPo.

The headlines are increasingly infected with the Gawker voice. You know the voice; the one that sounds like Cracked headlines had a retarded step-child.

“I opted my kids out of standardized tests. I thought it was no big deal. Boy, Was I Wrong.” Here’s how someone who hadn’t drank paint as a child would write this: “Opting my kids out of standardized tests was a greater hassle than I thought.” See: 14 words in 1 flowing sentence as compared to 19 in 3 choppy sentences; much more readable and it sounds like something not written by a child who skipped his standardized tests. But I guess you must appeal to the other paint-drinkers. Can people no longer read ‘complex’ thoughts?

Also, up yours Slate. I don’t need your permission to lick a cookie-dough spoon. What kind of pathetic incompetent does? Come to think of it, what kind of worthless person even thinks about this more than, “Hey, my cookies are baking, let’s eat the leftover batter”?

Fictional TV character doesn’t understand economics! This from the same site that publishes Matthew Yglesias. The irony almost burns. Speaking of, does Matt ever write something not retarded?

Seems Pharrell’s, who sounds vaguely familiar, Happy, which does not, is the new Hey Ya, whatever that means. No one ever writes on heavy metal; c’mon Iced Earth’s new CD just dropped.

I read something in XX. It’s dripping with venom; hate seethes from every word. I check the byline, but I already guess the author. Is there any person in the world more hateful than Amanda Marcotte?

Get to Dear Prudence. Ahhh… Normal human pettiness is an amusing relief. Hmmm… It seems teaching children anal sex against the parents’ wishes is only ok if the public school does it. Good to know.

I write for my blog. Trying to find article on Gawker voice I vaguely remember reading a long time ago. Find this instead. There is actually someone who believes Gawker writes good headlines. America deserves destruction. Reason #5: “They’re written like real people talk.” Really? Reading a Gawker headline makes my bloodlust rise. If the people I spent my time with talked like that I’d be in prison. Remind me to never talk to anyone either named or friends with Andrew Hanelly; 20-to-life does not interest me.

Finish Mass Effect 3. It and the first two have been my major interactions with popular culture over the last three months. 40 hours a game, a game a month, an average of an hour a day (but more realistically one or two evenings a week). I also watched LilyHammer and House of Cards.

The more time passes the more disconnected I feel from society and culture. My knowledge of societal and cultural events around me all comes from a small internet subculture. No radio, no TV but Netflix, no newspapers, no sports but the occasional party for the ‘big game’ or ticket to the ‘local team’.

What little of culture seeps through my filters repulses me.

I’m not sure how healthy this is.  I’m not sure if the alternative is any healthier.

Am I insane? Or is everything else?

Labels and Libertarianism

Michael Anissimov has put out the 5 premises of neoreaction with which a someone must totally agree to be a neoreactionary. He argues that “anyone who disagrees with any one of them is almost certainly not a reactionary.”

I agree fully with all the points except possibly #4, which got me thinking about the rather petty problem of self-labelling. Particularly the fact that my self-descriptive label on my about page has been “reactionary libertarian” since I last updated it months ago.

I hold to a form of libertarianism, anarcho-monarchism, as the optimal form of government for English people, something which I just commented on that a couple weeks back. If asked I’d describe myself as a reactionary anarcho-monarchist.

But then again, I don’t “make personal freedom axiomatic“; rather I hold to the principal of subsidiarity. I do not “refuse to consider the negative externalities of that freedom to traditional structures” but rather I believe these structures are best preserved by distributing power primarily to the individual, family, and the community to best “foster community, family, and social cohesion”.

I definitely do hold to the “socialism” of “family and friends helping each other of their own free will.” (I wouldn’t call it socialism though).

Rather than not caring “if a libertarian society would leave many out in the cold” I have thought of the problem of natural slaves, although, simply having strong community values and mores from birth would probably take care of the problem.

I don’t think any who have read my blog are overly concerned about me being “excessively materialistic” in my outlook.

It would seem his criticisms of libertarianism do not apply to me or my thinking.

So, maybe I fall into the category of “theoretically compatible with libertarianism, but is not compatible with the mood and spirit of libertarianism”?

Or am I simply an unwitting entryist?

Could it be possible I’m “lonely and want friends to debate politics with, or [am] intrigued by the personalities of reactionaries, though they are not one”?

Or maybe by rejecting the axiom of a natural right to freedom, I am simply not a libertarian, whatever the similarities?

Maybe it’s time to retire the libertarian label.

I’ve worn it for many a year, but maybe I’m in the ideological territory of post-libertarianism and the label no longer fits.

“The List” and My List

Donal makes a list of what he requires in and offers to his future spouse, and suggested others do the same. I will, but first I’ll talk a bit on lists.

Unlike many in the ‘sphere, I do not have a negative reaction to a list; in fact, I support “the list”. I think it is a positive if a woman rationally plans ahead and has a strong list of non-negotiables she would require of a spouse before marriage and even a list of negotiable preferences. I think every single person, both men and women, should have a list.

A woman should have high standards; in fact, I think women should demand more from men than what they currently do. Women should not settle and should refuse to settle. Many of our modern difficulties come not from women with “lists” or high demands, but rather from women lacking either.

Men should have high standards and a list as well. In fact, I encourage any man reading this who is considering marriage to go and make a list of non-negotiables once they’ve finished reading this post.

****

The purpose of the list is something that should be kept in mind when making the list. The list exists, or should exist, for two main reasons:

1) To clarify what you are looking for in a relationship so you can focus your romantic efforts where they would be most valuable and avoid wasting time on people who are not what you need in a relationship.

2) To create a hard standard to prevent you from making a bad choice while being swept away in lust and emotion.

A list exists to protect you and your time from those who would use and waste both.

Leap stated:

The underlying subtext of this is all wrong. It’s a beta list for Beta’s and women who feel guilty about not dating them. She actively admits dating men that contradict these values.

He understands the proper subtext but misses the point of the list; the list, for women, is and should be to keep her from dating the alphas who would ruin her. It exists to protect her from her emotions so she doesn’t go through “alpha now -> beta later“.

A man’s list should exist to keep him from marrying the blonde bombshell with BPD. It serves as a firm anchor point when the tidal wave of lust overwhelms his good sense.

Every list should have this, not just as the subtext, but as the main point. Remember one of the main points of Proverbs, protect yourself from the adulteress.

Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life. Proverbs 4:23 (ESV)

****

The problem is not the concept of the list itself, the problem is with some women’s poor and irrational attempts at creating a list. They go about it the wrong, resulting in the incorrect use of the list. Here are some of the errors people make:

1) Creating a list that is unmeetable, but still expecting to get married. Too many women make a large list that no man can possibly live up to, than wonder why no man lives up to it. You must accept the reality that the higher your standards and the longer your list, the less likely anybody will meet it and the less likely marriage will be. If your standards are too high, you might remain single for the rest of your life.

My list of standards is fairly high (at least for our modern world) and I’d be surprised if even 10% of the single female population met them. In fact, my original list had more points (13) than the list Donal criticizes (12) and my new list below has the same number. But I recognize that my standards are high and accept the reality that I might remain single for the rest of my life. I simply know that I would prefer singleness to marriage to a woman that did not meet these basic standards.

Rule of thumb: Something should not be on your list unless you would rather remain single for the rest of your life than compromise on it.

2) Focusing on frivolities, ignoring the important – What matters for a marriage is underlying character, behaviours, and values related to a successful marriage. A list should focus on these. A list should avoid things unrelated this.

Too many times, when people speak of standards, of demanding more, they think of the superficial standards (absurdly high income,  a height requirement,  unrealistic standards of attractiveness). You should demand more and have high standards, but of character, not the superficial.

3) Making a list, then ignoring it – It is my impression many women make a list, sometimes reasonable, sometimes not, then, if they don’t meet a man who meets that list, rather then reconsider some parts of the list or simply go without a relationship, they completely ignore the list out of desperation. Usually when they ignore the list, it is the more important parts (character, values) they ignore in favour of the more superficial parts that shouldn’t be on the list anyways.

The list exists for a reason; if you make a list, stick to it. A non- negotiable list should be just that, non-negotiable; if you can’t meet anybody who meets the list’s requirements, either modify the list to something more reasonable or accept that you may be single for life.

4) Vague emotional standards, rather than concrete rules – I know romantic love can not be reduced to a formula, but a list should primarily be of concrete attributes, not vague emotions. A list which focuses too much on how someone makes you feel is counterproductive. It violates the purpose of a list, which is protecting you from your own emotions and lust. One or two points about emotions and attraction may be fine, but the bulk of the list should be observable traits independent of your emotional state.

****

Donal criticizes a particular list, but I don’t see much trouble with the actual points of the list in themselves. My only real problem with any of the particular point as written is #11 because it is theologically inaccurate, even though I have no problem with women expecting a certain, reasonable level of romance.

The problem is, as Donal mentions, the attitude behind this list and the way certain things on the list, particularly those related to emotions, may be (mis)construed could be problematic, but the list itself, as written, is not really offensive.

Also, the lack of concreteness is a problem: #7,10, and 11 can all be summed up as gives me good feelings. Good feelings should be one point on the list, if that, because good feelings are what the list should be protecting someone from; not a quarter of the list itself.

Irrelevant side note on the comments debate on attractiveness: The lady who wrote this is extremely attractive, both subjectively and objectively; a solid 9 at least (but I’m partial to blondes). On the other hand, I find Angelina Jolie unattractive, while I recognize she’s probably objectively attractive. There’s something I can’t quite identify about the fat lips that I find off-putting and her eyes always seem to look either cold, hard, or dead, none of which is attractive in a woman.

****

I’ve created a list of indicators of a good wife and mother on here before and in rel life I made a list of my minimum requirements for a wife. I’m not sure where I left the RL list, so I’ll try to recreate it here.

1) Christian – I am not too particularly worried about denomination, as long as it is non-heretical and non-liberal (but I repeat myself). I would even be willing to seriously consider converting to Catholicism and Orthodoxy if that was important to her, given that I’ve been leaning more in that direction over time.

2) Virgin, or has a low count but is genuinely repentant – My wife has to have a right view of sex. A virgin would be ideal, but I would not absolutely rule out a low count non-virgin if I knew she was honest about it and genuinely repentant and had enough positive traits to make up for the deficit.

As I’ve said before, I find the problem with marrying a genuinely repentant ex-slut is how accepting the church is of female fornication. When even “Christian” women accept the slut culture, how much can you trust a woman’s repentance?

3) Sufficiently attractive and healthy – Essentially, is she attractive enough to arouse me to the degree sufficient to desire and enact the procreative act and will she be so 20 years down the road? Is she healthy? Healthiness and attractiveness are strongly interrelated, hence why they do together here. It’s not a particularly high bar; most white or Asian women who take care of themselves would probably meet it.

(Note: #3 effectively rules out marrying outside of the white or Asian races, as I am generally not attracted to any but the most unattainably attractive women from non-Asian minorities).

4) Pleasant – Is she a joy to be around or is she a pain?

5) Not stupid – My wife needs to be someone I can genuinely converse with. She doesn’t have to be super-intelligent, I phrased this point as I did on purpose, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life exasperated with and rolling my eyes at everything she says. Also, included under this would be sufficiently low time preference that she would not take drastic, unthinking actions that could destroy.

6) Not emotionally volatile – I am a calm, non-emotional INTJ. I simply can’t handle emotional outbursts all that well.

7) Prioritizes motherhood, family, and children – My wife who primary earthly goal will be motherhood and the family and she will need to be willing to have many children (I don’t have a non-negotiable number of children, but she’d have to be one amazing prize for it to be fewer than four).

8) Good mother – This is kind of vague, but does she demonstrate traits that indicate she would make a good mother?

9) Believes in traditional Biblical marriage – She needs to accept the model of marriage provided in the Bible. I am willing to date a Christian without this, given the sad reality of modern thought on marriage, but she must convert to this model before we marry. She also must be willing and eager to take my last name, no hyphens.

10) Willingness to homeschool – My children are not going to public school. Out of all of these this is the weakest on the list; it’s on the border between non-negotiables and strong preferences; I considered moving it to the top of my preferences list. I would be willing to accept alternatives such as Catholic private school or possibly Montessori education.

11) Responsible/Reliable/Loyal/Disciplined – Essentially, can she be relied upon. Marriage is essentially a business partnership based around running a household with the added bonus of sex; so, would I be willing to run a business with her? Does she wastefully spend and get into debt? Can she be counted on to keep her word? Can I depend on her to be responsible for those areas under her care? Etc.

12) Under 30 – I’ve written about this before, so I won’t say much more here. Under 30 is required, under 25 is a high priority, but negotiable.

My original list had 13 requirements, so this is not exactly the same, but I can’t think of anything that’s missing. The difference is probably because I mixed a few requirements together in this list that were discrete in the original.

Now, I don’t think I’ve made a list that is unreasonable. In fact, I’d be willing to bet that 100 years ago 90% of the single, white, Christian female population would have met this list. Even 50-60 years ago, I’m sure more women than not would have met this list (excepting some of the religious requirements).

In this fallen age, most women would not meet my list, but I think that says more about the decline of our civilization than any unreasonableness on my part.

****

Lastly, what do I bring to marriage. I’ll start with Donal’s LAMPS:

1) Looks – I’m tall and broad-shouldered, with a decent jawline. I have some muscle mass but I also have a bit of a gut. I’ve been told I’m handsome by a number of older women from church and my family’s social circles; I’ve never really inquired about it from women my own age. I’d guess I’m above average in this regard (but one must always remember the Dunning-Kruger effect).

2) Athleticism – I participate in a few sports, but they are less intense ones, and a martial art. I started lifting recently, but my lifts so far are not all that spectacular. I have a strong handshake and have decent burst capabilities but I’ve always had low endurance; but it’s been improving these last few years. Again, above average.

3) Money – I have a respectable, but not particularly exciting, middle class government job. I’m not yet 30, but I have a salary significantly above my province’s average. My salary is about average, maybe small amount above, for my peer group. I own my own home, have a decent amount of savings, and have a gold-plated government pension. There is a good chance my current career path could lead to six figures by retirement.  Above average here.

4) Power – I am extremely confident, dipping into arrogant at times, but I am not particularly dominant and rarely take the lead due to my introverted nature and my natural apathy to the social hierarchy. I’m working on becoming more dominant though. Probably below average here.

5) Status – I have no idea. I have a respectable but unexciting job. I generally have the respect of my elders; among my peers, I’m thought of as a bit of a right-wing nutball. I’m Probably average to below average here.

Overall, I’m probably average to somewhat above average (hopefully, Dunning-Kruger isn’t rearing its head).

I scored a 4 on Roissy’s Dating Market Value Test, lumping me in the Classic Beta category.

As for the counterpart to my list above:

I am a conservative Christian who believes in traditional marriage Biblical marriage, a virgin (but I do have struggles with pornogrphy), moderately attractive and rather healthy. I am intelligent and emotionally controlled (perhaps too emotionally controlled, according to some). I earn enough to be an excellent provider.I’m also responsible, loyal, disciplined, etc.

I’m probably not very pleasant, but I am fairly easy-going. My major deficits are my social skills are sub-par, I am devoid of charisma, and many women find my views of marriage, society, politics, religion, etc. off-putting.

****

So, am I worthy and capable of achieving the marriage partner I desire?

I’m not sure, but for now I’ll keep trying and improving myself and we’ll see.

Backsliding and Failure

Today, I am here to talk of failure, my own. I’ve been backsliding these last few months.

For a year there I was on the way up, I was approaching women and I thought I was good with it. I was definitely not an approach machine, but I was never trying to be. The occasional approach when a likely prospect comes up and a date every couple months is good enough for me and is all I’m trying to accomplish and I was doing it. Compared to the time prior where I never approached and had a grand total of 0 dates in 3 years, it’s a vast improvement

But these last two months I’ve been backsliding; I’ve been letting good opportunities pass me by. (On the positive, I did go out with a nice feminine girl from my sports team a few weeks back).

One that stands out is from a couple of weeks ago, there was a very cute girl who visited my church with her family. After the service, she dropped a number of shy smiles my way. I knew her father from way back and talked with him some, she was standing right there. I did not so much as say hi to her. I rationalized it to myself that she was too young (most likely she was 18) and her father was right there; but being honest with myself, I just chickened out.

But my slacking in this was hammered home just a couple days ago. In the morning I was on the bus, an attractive blonde sat next to me. I desired to talk to her, but over-thought for far too long. I took of my earphones to start a conversation, but then simply froze in over-thinking. Then kept over-thinking, until she got off a few stops before mine.

In the evening it got even worse. I stopped at McDonald’s and was served by a cute brunette. While waiting for my food, she started chatting me up (I was the only person at the counter). We chatted for a bit, and I held my end up fairly well, but then, I wussed out in getting her number. While walking out I kept telling myself I should get her number, but I just kept walking.

I’m not writing this because any of it is particularly interesting; I’m recognizing my failure here in the hopes it will spur me to try harder in the future, so I can recognize triumphs here instead. I need to put more work into approaching if I want to find a wife.

Omega’s Guide – My Road from Omega

Welcome to part two of the Omega’s Guide to Not Being a Loser, wherein I establish my credentials for taking on such a project.

I want you to know you are not alone, to know I know how you feel, to know that I can help you, to know it is not hopeless, so I am going to tell you where I was at and where I am now, hopefully as an inspirational story, or possibly just so you can laugh.

As a child I was always the one bullied, I got beaten up regularly, and was always one of the most unpopular kids in the class. I had few friends at school, but usually made up for it with friends from church or my neighbourhood. I moved around a lot, so I would always lose my current friends, but I would usually find a friend or two. As a teenager in high school, I moved to a new city. In this new city, I spent a year with no friends; I was unable to make them. I was too afraid to talk to people to make them. I had no social activities outside of church and youth group. I was crushingly lonely during this period.

Eventually, I got myself involved with a small group of friends; there was a group of about five guys I would spend time with. Things were not bad.

Then came college and things became horrible. My group of friends all went different paths, and my friends were all busy. I would see them about once a month. I helped “lead” youth group once a week (by which I mean, I showed up, watched the group while others lead, and talked with the two or three of the more nerdy/introverted youth) and went to church on Sunday. Outside of this, I had no social activities, I had no hobbies. I went to university, went to my part-time job, then came home and played video games, read, and watched TV. I had no friends but that small group I rarely saw; I had other social activities. This was my life for three years.

From about 17 or so, there was a cute blonde girl a few years younger than me who went to my church and youth group. I had the strongest crush on her for four years. I would daydream about her incessently; I thought of her everyday. I wanted nothing more in life than to hold this girl and have her be mine. More accurately, I wanted nothing more than to have the illusionary girl I built her up to be in my head; in those four years, I can count the times I talked with her at all (even a simple hello) on one hand; I had a real conversation with her a grand total of once.  I did not know her well-enough to like her; I was madly “in love” with the idea of what I thought she was.

For four years, I would see this girl in a group once or twice a week, spend most of the time furtively glancing at her, trying not to stare, beat myself up afterwards for my cowardice in not talking to her, then mooning over her the rest of the week. I was pathetic.

To make matters worse, in retrospect, this girl might have have had some interest in me back, and I might have had a chance had I only had the base courage to talk to her. That one real conversation I did have was at a youth event at a corn maze. I followed her and her sister in, walked up beside her, and we started talking for most of the maze. During this time, she dropped a number if hints I was too socially obtuse to understand, hints like “I’m cold” to which I stupidly offered my jacket, which she rejected, and “we should ditch my sister and go off alone together” to which I retardedly answered “that doesn’t seem very nice.” (Yes, really, she honestly said that and I truly answered that).

I was that bad at reading social situations. As another example, there was another girl in my youth group who I was not attracted to. At one event, we talked; she started blathering on about how she broke up with her boyfriend because he wasn’t Christian and she needed to find a good Christian man, while I half-listened and nodded. When she was done, I went inside and did my usual, stand in the group circle and listen without saying anything. She came up beside me and started leaning against me; I thought she must have been tired. We then went for the Bible lesson; she followed me and sat beside me. She then leaned into me and rested her head on my shoulder, I thought it was kind of weird, but she must’ve been really tired, so I tolerated it. After the lesson, she asked if we could talk. I said, sure. She then told me she liked me; I was utterly surprised. She did everything short of kiss me or grab my genitals, and I was no even aware of it until she told me. I asked to think about it (I was wondering if I should just for the social practice) and planned to tell her no a few days later. In my shameful cowardice I just avoided her for two months, until I finally screwed up the courage to reject her. (I regret that, it was a jerk move).

Knowing that, you will probably believe me when I tell you I could literally not start a conversation with a woman. I could literally not talk to strangers, acquaintances, or anyone not among my small groups of friends except in the most transactional or superficial ways (“Hi, How are You, I am good?” and answering direct questions with three words answers was the extent of my social prowess), and even these limited conversations were awkward. I had no friends other than that group of 5 I rarely saw; I rarely called my friends up to do something because I was afraid to phone them and “knew” they had better things to do than hang out with me. I had no social activities outside church, where I stood in a corner by myself. I never had a date. I withdrew from my family, spending most of my time in my room by myself. Etc. I was scrawny and out of shape, at only 150 pounds at 6’2″. My life was pretty much video games, TV, and books.

I was pathetic, I was desperately lonely, I was always bored, I hated myself, and I was suicidal. I thought about suicide every day and I seriously considered it about once a month. Twice, I sat on my bed, with my pocket knife to my throat, crying, while I debated whether to push it in or not. I decided not to both times for two reasons: I didn’t want my mom to find my corpse and I was worried the Catholics might be right and suicide would damn me. Those are literally the only reasons I could come up with not to kill myself.

This went on for three years, until I turned 21. Then I decided to turn myself around. I took the Dale Carnegie course (my grandfather paid for it, as both he and my mother were worried about my social life). I started spending more time with my friends. I attended attending a Christian group on campus, where I made a larger circle of friends. I started going to social events regularly; I spent more Fridays doing things than staying home. Over time, I developed a few hobbies. I started talking to girls, I entered a relationship or two.

Now, I have a circle of close friends and few other circles of friends. I am busy most days with social activities or hobbies. I have no problem talking with strangers. I can readily and easily converse with girls. I can and do approach girls on occasion, and get the occasional date. I no longer hate myself, no longer think suicidally, am rarely bored, and while occasionally I get a little lonely, it is nowhere near the level of desperation I once had. I’m now in decent shape, having gained 30 lbs of mostly muscle (and some fat). I’ve improved my life in every way.

****

As you can see, if you are stuck in a rut of friendlessness, hopelessness, desperation, loneliness, and boredom, there is hope. I was there, I know how hopeless it can seem. I know how frightening social interaction is. I now how comfortable a rut, however miserable and painful, can be and how hard it is to escape. I know how you feel, because I was you, and I want to help. I improved my life, you can to.

The Effects of the Red Pill

I don’t listen to the radio anymore, the only TV I have is Netflix, and I don’t read newspapers anymore except when linked to from some blog, so I’m fairly disconnected from the standard news. This weekend I was on a cart trip with some friends and we were listening to the CBC (the state-run broadcaster) and I realized exactly how deep the red pill has sunk into my thinking. Three particular items stood out.

The first was some news story about the protests in Turkey. The CBC was very much in favour of the protestors. The story was all about how oppressed the environmentalists, gays, and democrats protesting the regime were and how controlling the regime was for oppressing the greens and gays. They never got the side of the government or the majority of Turks who supported the government. Rather than supporting the protestors, I remarked how one-sided and biased the story was to my friends and found myself supporting the regime, simply based on how biased the CBC was on the issue. A few years ago I would hardly have noticed.

A little later a “debate” occurred concerning women’s declining fertility with age and when women should get married. One guest was against women marrying young so they could experience the world and be happy, the other was for women marrying young so they could find somebody and be happy. My friend remarked, ‘see, they cover both sides’. Then, red pill knowledge firmly in place, I told him how it didn’t both were the same liberal side concerned with happiness being the sole goal of marriage. Not a person addressed duty to family, God, or the nation, no one even mentioned are below-replacement reproductive rates, no one mentioned the health of the family or the country, no one mentioned the religious or societal foundations of marriage. Both women had the exact same argument: women should marry to be happy and no one should judge them for that, the only difference was at what age marriage would be the happiest. My friend then told me, they were never going to have that kind of debate on the radio; I told him that was exactly my point about the one-sidedness of it all.

Finally, a story about Nelson Mandela’s failing health came on. I was amazed by the almost painful cognitive dissonance of it. The whole story was about two things: 1) Nelson Mandela has been a foundational symbol of post-apartheid South Africa and his loss will greatly hurt the country, and 2) South Africa is in horrible shape, corruption is out of control, and it has been continually getting worse with people agitating to undo land reforms, etc., which is why the nation needs the symbolism of Mandela to hold itself together. The fact that this continual decline was a result of the regime Mandela helped put into place was enver even remarked on, even thought the entire story screamed this fact between the lines.

A few years ago, I wouldn’t have noticed any of this. The red pill is a strong drug.