UPDATE: I hated the other title. It was a silly choice.
I want to take a break from my TINP posts…my head’s in the wrong place for that topic.
Let ask it this way…..from where will numbers of red pill men come?
I honestly don’t know where, but I gather he’s more optimistic than I am. However; it did lead me back to thinking about how I started down this road. This isn’t about how I learned to interact with women, but how I became conscious I had diverged from the common emotional climate of society.
Back when we were apartment dwellers, our PC was in the living room; on a wall perpendicular to the TV so that you couldn’t see it if you were looking at the monitor. Back then, way back in the poor and stupid days of the 90s, we had cable. At first, I watched copious amount of MTV. Even in those days, there were no music videos, but there were a whole bunch of girls in colorful bikinis; miniskirts, etc. When you’re 22, it can while the time. Over just a few months though, I began to hate them. Pretty soon, if I was watching TV I was watching Speedvision, or the Hitler Channel*, and I’d watched one too many Barrett-Jackson auctions (Go, Cobra, Go! WHAT??? Only $75,000? What a LOSER!)…and, “poof”‘, in four or five months of cable and I was done with TV again. Especially those teases on MTV.
I’m not sure what game I was playing–I’ve always been partial to shooters. I know I had headphones on–but Mrs. Caldo harkened from the couch.
“Aw, I love this video.”
(Man, I need a health pack soon.)
“Cane, have you seen this video?”
(I’m almost out of ammo, too.)
Can you see the little car parked on the tracks; it’s driver fidgeting with her radio? Can you hear the rumble of a Kansas-long freight train of MTV scorn, burdened by innumerable alien enemies, bearing down on ?
“Cane? Did you hear me.”
It’s too late to stop; best blow the warning whistle.
“No, I don’t care.”
“Will you just look for a second please? She is so pret-“
I take of my headphones, and place them on the desk, turning towards the TV, and there’s Beyonce, shaking her ass. Somewhere in the background, my avatar suffers a grisly fate.
My eyes were full of ass-shaking, and lust.
“Yeah. I would totally fuck the shit out of her. Is that what you want to hear? Because I would. Can I play my game now?”
By the time I was 20, I had developed a visceral reaction to the mall, and I avoided it whenever possible. For a long time, I couldn’t put it into words, but not long after the Depravity’s Child incident, I understood: It was the girls.
They come in all types, sizes, and ages, but they go to the mall in only two modes of dress: slob, or slut. The underdressed slobs elicit mild disgust, which only serves to set the stage. Their hair is tied in knots, over sweats, or stretchy pants; feet shod in flip-flops. Why in the world they still wear half-inch eyelashes and layers of make-up, I’ll never understand.
The sluts, though… Women don’t understand the primal forces they employ when they oppress the average man with carefully extruded and exposed flesh. One day I became aware that the feeling I had, the anger, was equivalent to my reaction to the Napoleon-Syndrome tyrants at school.
The tall boy in public school has a special little Hell: older smart-mouthed little runts. They run their mouths at the big guys who haven’t yet displayed physical dominance. Should the smart-mouthing fail to elicit a strong enough response, runts will escalate to posturing and pestering…while their friends gather around. The runt has nothing to lose: if he gets his ass whipped, it was expected, his friends and the bureaucracy will avenge him. If he wins, well, he’s mighty, isn’t he? The tall boy, of course, has the reverse situation: nothing to gain. Boys who fight in school get in trouble, period. It doesn’t matter who starts it: any display of aggression is met with mind-numbing re-education; in school suspension; removal from extracurricular activities; monologues…
Did I forget to mention that this is only true for the bigger boy?
This is my mall experience: hordes of stupid little 16 to 30-year old sluts taunting me; jerking at my johnson with their various states of disrobe, and there’s nothing I can do about it unless I want to deal with some severe repercussions. It’s the equivalent of bowling right into strangers with my 6’4″ frame; never apologizing; always oblivious. It’s their beastliness abusing my civility that angers me.
That moment of realization was when I changed from egalitarian to chauvinist. I wouldn’t encounter the idea of Red Pill until over a decade later, but the path led out from the mall.
It seems to me that no man’s experience was that one day his friend told him about Game, and his eyes opened; or that an Men’s Rights Activist left a pamphlet, and it affected someone who’d never thought about it. It must be personal.
*The History Channel. There was a time when is was 2/3 Hitler, 1/3 Rome.) This is before the Great TV Conflation of the 00’s when Remodeling-Cake-Truckers took over every station. But, really, there’s only so much about Hitler one can learn (SPOILER ALERT: he’s the villain.)