Mind your own business.

I did a Salt Lake Sit-Down with my friend, Brother, co-founder, and co-host of Masculine Geek, Vince LaRosa on Saturday. We talked about “wine, women, and song.” It was a really good episode if I do say so myself. You should check it out.

If you follow me at all on Youtube, you’ll know that I’ve been on a few different shows by different people. One of the most recent one’s is Jack Napier’s Red Pill Readings. We discussed The Manipulated Man by Esther Villar. I highly recommend this book if you haven’t already read it. It’s eye opening in many ways, particularly because it was written many years ago. 1971 in fact. At least according to the original copyright.

I first read this book over a year ago, and every time I reread it, I get more from it. I reread it before talking with Jack in order to refresh my memory and to pull certain details from it. I really like and enjoy literature that makes me think and this particular book does just that.

Now I’m not going to go into a book review here, I just needed to mention all of this to set the background or the context.

There’s a lot of talk out there on the interwebs about having “your mission.” What mission that is, is up to you. But apparently it can’t be about women. Women are a compliment, not the mission itself. I get that. But why exactly can’t women be your mission? What if I want to spend my days intertwined in their flesh? What if I want to wrap my arms around them and them me? I’m not talking about pedestalizing them here. I’m not talking about having them so much a part of my life that I don’t know where I begin and they end.

I understand their nature enough. I know they are “the most responsible teenager in the room.” I understand hypergamy. I also know it’s not a straightjacket. I know they aren’t all “sugar and spice and everything nice.” I get that they can branch swing. I also know that more often than not, they can be a huge pain in the ass.

Your Mission has become the new mantra. Well if you decide to not deal with women at all, or only in limited, superficial degrees, what’s the point in having a mission?

What’s the point in getting “jacked” and eating healthy and living a long life if you aren’t going to share it with someone? Or many someones?

What’s the point in “amassing incredible wealth” if all you are going to do is go be a hermit somewhere?

What’s the point in doing anything?

I enjoy the company of Men to talk about life, philosophy, politics, guns, exercise, and pretty much anything else under the sun, but I don’t want to fuck them. And getting a massage from a dude would just be…Weird.

I spent Friday evening in the company of a beautiful young lady. She’s vivacious, full of laughter, and she’s full of energy and life. She’s got a ton of issues that aren’t my problem and I have no desire whatsoever to fix. Not my circus, not my monkeys. But I felt energized and renewed after she left. I’ve missed that. I didn’t know it until it happened, but goddamn I’ve missed that. I missed being touched.

We are social creatures. We need to touch and be touched. I remember seeing something somewhere about a study or something that mentioned babies and the effects of being touched or not. I seem to recall that the lack of touch created all sorts of health issues for babies that didn’t get touched on a regular basis.Possible physical and definitely mental and emotional issues.

I think that doesn’t just apply to babies. I think that applies to everyone throughout our entire lives. A dead philospher, a religious text, and picking up iron aren’t going to replace a touch. Never have, never will. Neither will booze or other drugs. Want a real dopamine hit? Caress a woman’s shoulder. Run your fingers down her arm to that soft spot on her elbow. She’ll feel it and so will you. Touch her face. Close her eyes with your fingertips. Place your hand on her stomach. Let her touch yours.

Your mission can’t replicate that. Unless maybe your mission is that.

There’s more to life than dead philosophers and mental masturbation. There’s more to life than reading about the exploits and heroics of dead presidents. There’s more to life than just making money. There’s more to life than travelling the world and seeing the sights, but you don’t have someone to share that experience with. I’ve always felt that if I’m going to travel anywhere, it’s more important to me who I travel with than the destination. I may remember a certain piece of architecture, or a natural landmark, but it won’t move me like sharing that architecture or landmark with someone else will. All of my best memories of vacations and trips involved the parties I was with, not the locations that I visited. One of my favorite memories was at the Great Salt Lake, and that location is literally 5 minutes away from my house. Hint, it wasn’t the lake itself. It was who I was with.

Sometimes all that is really needed is just to touch and be touched. Sometimes all it takes to break through that haze of confusion, anger, and sadness is a finger tracing your jawline. Or a soft feminine hand gripping your forearm.

“Dood! You lost your framez/bluepill/beta/orbiter looser juicesqueeze lolololol!!!!!!!!1111”

Sssshh. Sit down. The Men are talking.

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