Author: Rob Says

A man who loves and likes women.

Morality And The Red Pill

Rob Says7 Comments

A few days ago, there was a small disturbance in the Gay Monastery (aka The Manosphere.) It had to do with the idea of having sex with married women. Paul, from Come On Man Podcast had one take, as well as some random bot account that had the same take. Rian Stone quoted the bot with, “Not our call to make.”

Paul then went on to add to my original tweet, and I had to follow it up with a question. Rian got involved in this part as well.

For the record: I am not trying to shit on Paul. I like Paul. I like what he is trying to do on the internet. I like most of his ideas, but in my opinion, his idea here wasn’t the best take, and it’s not because you should have sex with married women, it’s the fact that Paul is coming from a place of his own morality. There’s nothing helpful in his tweet. It’s the equivalent to the “Just Say No” campaign that was run by a certain Nancy Reagan back in the 1980’s for drug prevention.

We all know how well that turned out, right?

The Red Pill as I know it, and as anyone who has read or watched anything from Rollo Tomassi, will understand that it is a praxeology.

What is a praxeology? I’m glad you asked.

A praxeology is: the study of human action and conduct

Morality on the other hand is: of or relating to principles of right and wrong in behavior.

For the TL;DR crowd: The Red Pill is a set of tools and strategies to become more effective with mating and dating with the opposite sex.

The Red Pill is a tool, and nothing more. It is amoral. It is upon the person using the tools and their intent is when we step into the world of morality. Much like putting a scalpel into the hands of a surgeon or into the hands of a psychopath, one will save lives, the other will destroy lives. The scalpel is only a tool and is amoral, it’s the person wielding it with intent is where morality comes into play.

When the “discussion” about having sex with married women came up, guys got HOT.

Rian brought up a great point: Bringing morality into the question of having sex with married women keeps it taboo, untouched. It’s “sacred.” Why is that? My wanting to talk about it, isn’t me advocating for fucking married women. In fact, if you asked me, “Hey Rob, I’m thinking about fucking a married chick, what do you think?” I would probably respond with something like this:

“I think that’s probably a very bad idea, and here’s why:”

  1. You could get murdered for doing that
  2. You could get seriously injured for doing that
  3. You could go to prison for doing that
  4. You could be sued for doing that

Nowhere in there did I bring up morality, because your moral code and my moral code can and probably are, completely different from one another. “Just Say No” didn’t work for drug prevention, and it’s certainly not going to work for fidelity.

But why are guys “going off the deep end” when the conversation about having sex with a married woman comes up? Are you afraid that it might be YOUR wife fucking another man? Does that image make you uncomfortable? Is your ego really that fragile that you can’t even have a conversation about it and you have to shut it down? Like I said in the above tweet, most guys in the Gay Monastery don’t have girlfriends, let alone wives, so what’s the big deal fellas? Why you so mad about it? Why are you so uncomfortable?

Realize this:

Whether you are comfortable or not with having this particular conversation, infidelity is happening or is going to happen. Whether you like it or not, it’s going on around you, and yes, it could be your wife doing it. Burying your head in the sand won’t prevent it. Scolding and shaming won’t stop it. Preaching morality won’t slow it down in the slightest. People who want to cheat are going to cheat, so why not talk about it? Why not have a discussion? You might learn something from someone who has been there or knows someone who has been there and that information might help you prevent infidelity from happening to you, or it may help you from doing something stupid like committing a murder/suicide in the event that infidelity happens to you. But you’ll never know if all you want to do is yell, “Just Say No!” and then shut the conversation down.

All I see when I see someone mention “Never sleep with a married woman,” and they don’t follow it up with something practical and pragmatic, but they follow it up with morality, their morality, is a guy saying, “I don’t have sex with married women because I’m a good guy and my way is the right way and if you don’t do it my way, well, then you are a bad person and you’re doing it the wrong way.” That’s not very helpful to me.

At least I would tell a guy, “Hey man, you could get killed if you get caught. You sure you want to go there?”

Happy Halloween!

Rob Says1 Comment

It’s Halloween time again. Time for ghosts, ghouls, vampires, spooky shit, and the supernatural. Enjoy, and don’t overthink it.

Heartbreak.

We all go through it if we are all so fortunate enough to experience it. I have experienced heartbreak on more than one occasion, but the last time was the worst time of all.

She decided to plan a trip to Europe for 3 months, hid it from me the entire time that she was planning it, and then “dropped the bomb” on me a few days before she would be getting on her flight to leave the United States.

I was stunned to say the least. All I could think to ask, was “Why?”

Why are you leaving me? You don’t have to go. You can do your trip, you can stay. But no, she was done. I could see it in her eyes. I know what “done” looks like.

And so my heart broke. It was an open wound. Bleeding. My grief and pain was the worst that I had ever experienced in my life. It was even worse than when my Mother died.

I was in a daze, a haze, a fog. Everything was surreal and nothing mattered. Except the pain. The pain mattered. It was all encompassing and ever-present. It was with me in the morning and when I tried to sleep at night. It was in my sleep and dreams. It was everywhere I looked and in every breath I took.

I started drinking steadily.

It was to dull the pain. Yes, I was medicating. I knew that then, and I know that now. Getting drunk dulled the pain. It made life a little bearable for a brief while. But I knew it couldn’t and wouldn’t last.

I talked to friends and family about my pain, my loss. They were empathetic and kind, and it helped to a small degree, but it didn’t end the pain. Drinking still helped but not as much. I just wanted the pain to end, I wanted to not feel the heartache anymore. I was tired of my heart being broken and bleeding.

And then one day it happened.

I had been reading a book on “The Dark Arts.”

Black Magic.

Mystical “Woo Woo.”

New Age bullshit packaged as Ancient Secret Lore.

There was a summoning spell.

The skeptic that I am knew it was bullshit, and with a sneer and a smirk I read the ritual aloud.

I then tossed the book in the trash and went to bed.

The next day, “It” showed up.

I say “It” because one moment it seemed “as a man.” But then it would change its appearance somehow and it then seemed “as a woman.” Whatever “It” was, “It” was beautiful. “It” was attractive. “It” was seductive.

“You called. I came.” It said. “What do you seek?”

The beer I drank must still be fucking with me, I thought, but I decided to play along. What the hell, right? I’m having a great delusion, a grand hallucination, I might as well get the most from it.

Thoughts flashed through my mind. Nothing would stay put for more than the briefest of moments. Except for two things.

I wanted my heartbreak to end. And silly enough, I had been on Twitter the night before, watching guys talk about “Game.” But I wanted more.

“Done.” The entity said. And then it laughed. A most cruel and sinister laugh it was. It sent chills down my spine. And with that, the “thing” disappeared.

I rubbed my eyes and looked around. It was gone. Maybe it had never been there and I had dreamt it, only I was awake. Maybe I had hallucinated it. That’s the most likely answer. Yeah, I hallucinated it. No matter, time to get on with my day.

The first thing I noticed is that my heart no longer hurt. I didn’t think about her and mourn the loss of our relationship. I could still see her in my mind, I could still picture her vividly, but it no longer hurt. It was just “there.” We dated, loved, shared a life to a degree, had some great sex and some good times, but meh. It’s just “there,” is all.

To not feel pain, to not feel the loss of what was and what could have been, it was a relief. A blessing. I guess “time does heal all wounds.” At least that is what I thought at the time.

I went out and lived my life, and it was interesting. Meeting women became easy. Rejections didn’t sting. Not even in the slightest. It was “no big deal.” But I didn’t get many rejections. Women that I considered “out of my league” said yes to my offers. It was thrilling, it was amazing. And the sex..

Oh man, the sex… Nothing was “off the table.” Nothing was taboo. Nothing was denied me.

Except…

The more I fucked, the more sex I had, and the more I “dated,” the more I wanted.

I told a friend about it and he said that I was Chasing the Dragon. Like a junkie chasing the next high from a hit of heroin. At the time I thought he was right. Turns out we were both wrong.

It’s not like being an addict. I’m not chasing the next high.

I HUNGER.

Imagine starving, only for real.

Only the more you eat, the hungrier you get.

I’m not chasing my next high, I’m chasing my next meal. If I don’t eat I will die.

That’s what it feels like.

An empty pit that can never be filled.

The more I eat, the bigger that endless chasm grows. The more I get, the more I want.

And the HUNGER is endless.

My heartache and heartbreak is gone. I can feel, and I do. The intense highs and lows of living a life, my life, nothing has changed there.

When I’m with women, I feel, and I feel intensely.

And I HUNGER.

I don’t just want a woman’s sex, her passion, her desire, and her body. I want her soul.

The women I meet now all say to me, “You are so different! There’s something about you, I can’t put my finger on it, but you aren’t like all the other men I have met.” Oh baby, you have no idea.

I didn’t know what the hell was going on, but I found out:

Incubus:

(noun) A demon; a fiend; a lascivious spirit, supposed to have sexual intercourse with women by night.

Except the dictionaries and the myths and the folklore got it all wrong.

Incubi aren’t “spirits,” per se. They don’t just have sex with women by night, in their sleep. At least I don’t.

This is what has happened to me.

This is what I became oh so long ago when that entity laughed and said, “Done.”

Be careful what you wish for, it might come true.

We walk among you. And we HUNGER. We want your souls, not just your bodies. And our appetites are insatiable.

I remember a friend jokingly making a reference about me as me being a “literal demon.” He had no idea how close to the mark that he had come.

I’ve said things to my friends and to women that show up in my life, things like, “I am the Devil, and I’m here to do the Devil’s Work.” Or, “I am Legion, for my names are many.” Everyone thinks I’m being silly, melodramatic, or exaggerating. I say it all with a wink and a smirk. We all laugh at the joke I’m making, except the joke is on you.

Your women aren’t safe if I happen to turn my gaze towards them. Your girlfriends, daughters, and wives are all fair game. All women are fair game. None can resist my full force and charm should I turn it on them to try and satiate my hunger. I don’t care how “alpha” you think you are.

I used to drink in order to medicate a broken heart. Now I drink because alcohol is the only thing I have found in this world that will “take the edge off” of my hunger. It’s a distraction, really. You should be thanking me that I drink, because most of you have women that I would like to meet. And they want to meet me. I hear their siren-song. I hear their call. I see it and hear it in their off-hand comments. You tell me what they say. You show me the screenshots. They titter and laugh and it’s all deniable and it’s all in good fun, and it’s all bullshit, until it isn’t.

Like a shark smelling blood in the water, I come.

And it’s never enough.

Technology is a wonderful thing, it really is. Now, I can play their heart-strings. I can sing songs of lust, promise, and desire. And they will come to me. Whether by plane, train, or automobile. They come to me. Endless souls in an endless supply. In the “old days,” you had to travel, you had to walk “a thousand miles.” It wasn’t easy and it was expensive. Now no longer, not anymore.

And it’s not enough.

I use technology to my advantage now. If I can’t see and hear them, they will hear and see me. YouTube, Twitter, TikTok, Facebook, a blog, dating apps, texting, you name it.

I set my beacon of desire afire and ablaze and wait.

They will see my visionage. They will hear my voice. They will hear my words of promise, lust, and desire. And they will come.

While you are “alpha-ing” and memeing on the internet, they will come to me. While you are extolling the virtues of being a “good man,” and a “Good Dad,” they will come to me. While you are debating the finer points of some dusty, ancient philosophy, they will come to me. For they will hear it in my song of Desire and see the light of Truth twinkling in my eyes.

My hunger is vast, endless, infinite. And it grows with each soul I collect.

I don’t sleep now. I’m tireless. I’m relentless. Every day and every night there is another woman from whom I will feed upon. I will devour her soul, satiate my hunger for but the briefest of moments, much like an orgasm, and then come for the next one.

Sometimes I wish I hadn’t thrown that book away. Sometimes I wonder if there is a way to “reverse” what I have done to myself. Sometimes.

“Allow me to introduce myself, I’m a man of…”

“Pleased to meet you, hope you guessed my name.”

See you around. 😉

“Trevor” And Single Mom’s

Rob Says2 Comments

I wrote about “Trevor” awhile ago.

Well, he’s “back” and with more updates.

A little backstory though:

“Trevor” turned 29 this year and his blushing bride is 28. They got married on September 15th of this year as you can see in the photo above. She’s a bit on the “chunky” side. Oh and she already has a 3 year old son. And she wants more kids.

“Trevor” went out on route with me today, that’s how I know his and her age, that she was a single mom, that she wants more kids, oh and they are having “financial difficulties” already.

I’m not terribly surprised about the financial stuff. “Trevor” has made a series of mistakes when it comes to his finances and his purchases over the past four years that I have known him. Let’s just say that he’s up to his eyeballs in debt. I can only imagine what her financial situation is.

I do know, from the mouth of “Trevor,” that he makes significantly more than she does, and that they are drowning financially at the moment. They have barely been married a month and are already having disputes and arguments over money. He’s trying to pay the bills, she wants to spend money that they don’t have doing “something fun.”

“Trevor” told me while on route that he and his wife had an argument over money earlier this week and that she’s pissed at him. “I guess we’ll just never do anything fun.” This is what he told me that she said to him. I can only imagine the attitude and tonality that went with it.

“Trevor” has been married barely a month and he’s already starting to regret it. It took me at least a couple of years before I started doubting my marriage, and look what happened there. And yes, it was primarily over money.

“Trevor” isn’t a bad looking guy. Yes, he’s a “thin-skinned man,” like I said in my prior post about him, but I think he means well for the most part. The problem is, he doesn’t see that he has options. Why else would he marry an overweight single mother?

Why would any man marry a single mother unless they don’t think that they have any other options? I’m not attacking or shitting on single mothers, but I can’t think of any real reason why a man who has options would choose that option.

All of the guys that I know personally that chose to marry a single mother couldn’t see that they had any other options. And most of them still don’t see it. Some of them have gone so long that they don’t really have any other options at this point in their lives, and so begins or continues their lives of “quiet desperation.”

When I got married back in 2009, I was one of those guys. I didn’t think or see that I had any other options, and so I “did what everyone did because that’s what you do,” and I married a single mother. It was a slow, silent descent into my own personal hell that I had created for myself. I loved her for “what was on the inside, because looks fade.” “It’s what’s on the inside that counts,” right?

Except, “what about what really, truly mattered to me?” What about my and our financial situation? What about what actually turned me on? What about my life and my own happiness? Those were questions at that time that I had never asked myself, and no one else ever bothered to ask me about them either.

The first couple of years of my marriage were good, and then just okay, and ultimately I wanted out, any way that I could, up to and including, death. So I got divorced instead of taking my own life because I knew that I had more living to do. The slow death of my life, one day at a time, wasn’t fast enough.

“Trevor” is going to go down that same road most likely. I can see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. And he just got married a month ago. I guess the honeymoon is already over. Is he done fucking his life up yet? I don’t know, but I doubt it. I imagine that he and his blushing bride will have a child of their own in the near future, and then “Trevor” will be truly fucked, at least for a while.

I don’t have a problem with single moms as I have said on podcasts and livestreams. Some of the best sex of my life came from single moms. And let’s be honest shall we? Let’s look at the positive side of dating and fucking a single mother:

  1. They have fucked in the past and most likely enjoyed it. The proof of their “deed” is one or more bundles of joy that you may or may not have to interact with.
  2. They are busy and their time is limited. That means that they aren’t necessarily calling, texting, or taking up too much of your time as they are busy with raising their children, dealing with work, and have lives of their own.
  3. They seldom flake. At least that has been my experience. Since their time is limited, they tend not to squander it. But then again, your mileage may vary.

That all being said, and yes, it’s a rather short list now that I look at it, I would never marry or cohabitate with a single mother again. I would never commit to monogamy with one again. Been there, done that.

I have seen the “guys shitting on single mom’s” on the internet again. What is old is new. I guess I’m throwing my own two cents in on the matter and adding to the dogpile now. I don’t like the idea that I’m “shitting on them,” because I don’t think that I am.

I’m just being honest. I wouldn’t commit to, cohabitate, and I would definitely never marry a single mother again.

Will the single mother’s “out there” find someone that they can call their own? I’m sure that the great majority of them will. There’s always a man out there who doesn’t see his own worth and value that will happily take up the yoke of provisioning and providing. There’s always a “dutiful beta” waiting in the wings. Rest assured, single mothers’, you’ll be fine.

But I do wonder if he’ll end up being what it is that you are truly looking for? Or will the cycle just keep going for you? (AF/BB) It’s a rhetorical question that I’m asking, of course.

The honest and truthful answer is that the cycle will continue without end, amen.

What am I going to about “Trevor?” Absolutely nothing. He gets to burn. It’s his hole that he has dug for himself and he gets to dig himself out of it if he so desires. I simply told him, “Congratulations on your marriage, I wish you both the best.” And I meant it. I do wish both of them the best. I just don’t see that happening, but then again, stranger things have happened.

And when “Trevor” told me about their already strained disputes, all I could think of to say was, “I’m sorry to hear that man, that sucks.” And I meant that too. It does suck. But it’s not my problem.