I’ve been listening to a lot of Alan Watts lately. Who is he? He’s a guy that back in the ’60’s did a lot of recordings of lectures on Taoism, Zen, and a lot of stuff that came from the Far East. He was a Westerner that was able to break down Eastern philosophy in ways that Western people could understand and comprehend.

Don’t worry, I’m not going to go all “woo-woo” on you. But I do like to ponder what this guy had to say. One of the things he mentioned was that thoughts and words are, and have, their own reality. Your thoughts not only create a reality, but have their own reality.

I thought a lot about this, and I have to say that Mr. Watts was correct.

Too many guys get caught up in intellectualism and are too caught up in their heads. Their thoughts and the words that make their thoughts have their own reality and create a reality for the thinker.

What sounds more liberating and “freeing” to you?:

“Women are the most responsible teenager in the house. They are goofy and don’t know what they want, but they are friendly and fun to be around.”

Or:

“It’s society’s fault. Feminism ruined women for men. Technology has further corrupted them and today’s modern culture has made them more undesirable than ever.”

I hate to break it to you, bro:

Maybe it’s not technology, or society or culture. Maybe it’s you.

I have seen a lot of guys recently blame Feminism, technology, society, and culture for the errant ways of women. But maybe it’s you.

“You don’t understand, Rob. You don’t live where I live.”

True, I don’t. But I do know that human nature, and women’s nature if we are going to get more specific, is universal. I do know that if I were to come to your “magic ball of dirt” area, I would find women to be basically the same as they are where I live. Give me a week to get settled into an area and find “where all the wahmen at,” and within another week at most, I’ll be pulling friendly, sexy women who want to fuck and to date, back to my place.

That’s because I made a choice a while back:

My life is my fault.

I wasn’t getting the results I wanted and so I had to make some changes.

I lost some weight. Not that I was planning on doing that, but I did. It helped. Quite a bit actually, but it wasn’t enough.

I changed how I looked at women.

I can’t change women, nor would I want to, if I’m being honest. I just decided that they are what they are, I stopped trying to fully understand them, and I chose to engage them. I also decided to “put my dick on the table” and see where it went.

Since 2019, I have met over 20 different women. Not all of those meetings ended up with me getting laid. 12 of them did, and 2022 isn’t over yet. I’m not bragging about my numbers, I’m really not. Averaging 4 women a year isn’t an incredible feat in my own estimation, but it’s better than zero. It’s better for me that I get laid than I don’t get laid. I also tend to date women for “the long haul.” My belly dancer and I have been seeing each other for over a year now, and I’m still meeting, seeing, dating, and fucking other women.

I saw Teriyaki for almost a year before I pulled the plug on that relationship. I like to keep women around me. I like to see returns on my efforts. What I don’t do is blame technology, location (magic dirt), society, and culture for my lack of success with women. My lack of success in the past was all my fault. I was the common denominator. It was because I was a pussy and was terrified of women when I was younger.

I was terrified of women because I grew up with a controlling mother. But I got through that. If you want to have success, however you define it, with women, you have to get through it too. I know a few guys who had or have controlling mothers. I get it. Hearing their stories, I can relate. Some of their mothers were not as severe as mine, and some of them were way more severe. They made my mother look like a saint.

It doesn’t matter how severe or not your mother is or was. YOU have to get through it. Rian Stone doesn’t really care for therapy, and generally I agree with him, but on this particular subject, you can’t “lift your way” out of years of bullshit. I know I couldn’t, and so I got help. Lifting and working out is a great way to get in shape and may help battle things like depression, but it won’t teach you Game. Lifting won’t help teach you how to get “good” with women. Therapy won’t teach you Game either, but once you get through your “Mommy issues,” you can then move on to learning what works and what doesn’t. That’s what I did.

Women aren’t the enemy. You are.

Your thoughts about women and what you think they are, is the enemy.

They are what they are, it’s their nature. Nothing more, nothing less. You can blame hypergamy, which has been a part of the female condition since the dawn of time. You can blame technology and how “horrible” women have become (in your own eyes.) You can blame society and culture, how the “West has Fallen.” You can blame the area you live in, “Dude, you don’t live here.” I’m sorry, bro, that’s a cope. You don’t live in a vacuum. Your “magic dirt” is no different than mine.

Dante, who is writing for my blog, and is a damn good writer I might add, is over in the Philippines. He’s out meeting women when he gets a chance. He gives field reports on a regular basis based on what he is seeing and getting. The women over there are no different than the women here in the West. Same shit, different day. Sorry bro, your “magic dirt” isn’t holding water.

Maybe it’s you.

It’s hard to look into the mirror and say that your life is your fault, but it is. It’s not your controlling mother’s fault, it’s not technologies fault, it’s definitely not society’s or culture’s fault, it’s not where you live, your “magic dirt’s” fault, it’s yours.

It’s far easier to blame everything else outside of you for your lack of success, whether it be with women or otherwise, but more often than not, it’s you. YOU are the common denominator in your life. YOU are the common denominator when it comes to interacting with women. Maybe, just maybe, it’s you.

“Goofy-Sexy.” It’s what Vince labeled a woman that was walking down the street as we were sitting outside in Philadelphia having a drink and something to eat. There was something about this woman as she caught my eye. She was good looking, but definitely not a “9 or 10 brah.” She lacked a certain grace as she walked, but her smile was beautiful. I found myself mildly aroused. Yes, that was it, she was Goofy-Sexy.

I have come to a conclusion about the women that have been in my life:

They have all been Goofy-Sexy.

They are beautiful in ways that are hard to quantify or describe, but the goofy part is easy to identify. Maybe they snort when they laugh. Maybe they are like a “Bull in a China Shop” when they walk around. Maybe they sing off-key so bad a dog would howl in protest and pain.

My Belly Dancer is a teacher and she is also a martial artist. She’s been practicing Tai Chi and Southern Mantis for almost 40 years. I have seen what she can do to a person if she had to fight, it’s beautiful and terrible all at the same time. I have also seen her walking around in those heels in that photo above. It’s like watching a newborn colt on wobbly legs. For someone who has been into martial arts most of her life, she’s also the biggest klutz that I know. She can be dangerous if her life or the lives of those she cherishes was threatened, and yet she’s a goofy girl.

She has the most amazing laugh when she’s embarrassed, and it doesn’t take much to embarrass her. She laughs, blushes, and if she’s sitting, she curls up into a ball. It’s adorable. She also acts like a schoolgirl when she is around me. 5’7 flat-footed, grace of a colt, and she drapes herself all over me. She’s most definitely Goofy-Sexy.

“Velvet” is also Goofy-Sexy. I can’t even put my finger on it at the moment, I can’t isolate an instance, other than her odd way of looking at things, but it’s who she is and it’s something I like about her. Actually, one of the things that I do know is that she’s chronically late (aren’t they all?) and normally it would be irritating to me, but in her case, I know why she’s late. She’s dressing to impress me. She wants to look her best for me and she doesn’t disappoint. It’s her worrying about running late that is the goofy part. She gets so stressed about it, and all I can do is tell her it’s okay, and then she puddles and gets giddy. Just like a schoolgirl. What can I say? She’s Goofy-Sexy.

Teriyaki was Goofy-Sexy. It was in her laugh and it was in the way that she tried to convince the world that she was tough. Deep down though, she was a marshmallow. She was tenderhearted and just wanted to be loved.

“Kitten” was also Goofy-Sexy. A red flag woman if I ever met one, but she too lacked in grace. But she could stomp your nuts into the ground if you started simping on her. She actually took pleasure in grinding AFC’s into the dirt. But when she turned that bloodlust on me and I smirked and told her, “No,” she puddled and got all giddy and goofy. She ultimately ended up simping for me while we were together.

“Red and Black” was another woman that I met at the end of 2021. I’ll be goddamned if I can find any blog posts about her at the moment. Old age, CRS, not giving a fuck ultimately, and being half drunk will do that to you. I call her “Red and Black” because she had red and black hair. You chickenshits would have been terrified of her. Think Harley Quinn, but not blonde. She’s one of the more recent women that I have been with and I actually think she’s on the spectrum, as in legitimately crazy. At the same time, she was Goofy-Sexy too. She was a gigantic nerd when it came to her subjects and it was like pulling teeth to get her out of her head and into her body. She too, was Goofy-Sexy.

I think I have finally found my “pattern” if you will. I like Goofy-Sexy girls. Even my ex-girlfriend and my ex-wife were Goofy-Sexy.

But then again, I tend to think of most, if not all, women as Goofy-Sexy. They are “the most responsible teenager in the house,” as someone once said.

You can choose to see women as “Lilith, Destroyer of Worlds,” or you can choose to see them as “Goofy-Sexy.”

Another thing that I tend to think about women:

They are mirrors.

They throw back at you what you are projecting outwards. They are the barometers in my life. They show me where I am at. They also end up reflecting my views, values, and takes. Even if only for a moment. So when I tend to see them as big, goofy girls, that’s what they tend to become as far as I’m concerned. It’s far more interesting and entertaining than seeing them as “the enemy,” or Lilith.

Dante the Panda (who is supposed to be writing on this blog and hasn’t done so yet, so I’m giving him shit for that fact) wrote a really good piece the other day. Why they’re here (If they are so awesome, why’d they stick around?)

In his article he asks some really great questions:

Why are you (Rob) here (this space, the manosphere, the Gay Monastery?)

Because he’s right, I could be doing a whole bunch of other things. I could be dating more women, spending more time riding my motorcycle, making different videos that have nothing to do with sex and women and relationship advice. I could be putting in more hours at work (kill me now), I could be practicing and playing my guitar more. Hell, at this point I could probably have put a band together, made an album, gone on some type of tour, and probably have gotten more pussy to boot from it. You guys that have women that like going to rock concerts can thank me that I haven’t done that. Yet. As I have gotten older, I’m hearing and seeing it more and more often: the “Silver Fox” is definitely a “thing,” and yes, I’m talking about the twenty-something women that you are stepping on your dicks to get to.

Part of why I’m “here” is because I do it for the memories. I just got back from a meetup with my young scrub of a brother, Jack Napier, and with Vincent from Masculine Geek. We spent almost a week in Philly, drinking, shit-talking, and even doing a little skirt chasing.

I’m “here” because this is where I have met the great majority of people that I like to call my friends. I’m “here” to make that contact and make memories with those that pass the test and are allowed into my inner circle. Those guys that pass that test? Those are the best guys.

I’m also “here” because I like women. I like talking about them. I especially like fucking them and being around them. They are my favorite subject of all. Where else can I go and “get my fill” of my favorite subject other than when I’m dealing with women personally? Yes, I get irritated and groan and do a facepalm when I see a less experienced guy fucking it up, but at least he’s trying, and for that, I give him credit and I want him to succeed. The guys that want to piss and moan and cry about it and not do shit about it can go fuck themselves, plain and simple.

Dante was right and wrong at the same time in his article with his next point:

He was right when he said:

“Well maybe they just want to help you.” And then he went on to say, “But I don’t think so.” Here’s where he’s both right and wrong:

I actually am here to help. Dante is “wrong” if he doesn’t “believe” that. I know Dante a bit more personally, so I know where he is/was going with this, and that’s why I say he’s both right and wrong. He’s wrong if he stops himself at, “but I don’t think so.” It’s good and even healthy to be sceptical, which is where he was at in this part of his article, and for good reason. I could be selling you guys a bullshit fantasy via a “war room,” or some gumroad course if I wanted to. I choose not to. I’m hoping to “be the lesson,” so that you guys reading this don’t have to make the same mistakes I did. I’m hoping you won’t waste your time and spend money you don’t need to spend, like I did. But you’re still going to have to do the work. You’re going to have to go out and talk to women and get rejected. Sorry/not sorry, there’s no escaping it.

Dante was also “right” when he said that I do it for nostalgia. I’m here for that too. I like reading the field reports of other guys and seeing that they are making the same mistakes that I made, and sometimes still make. I still remember those “rushes” that Dante touched on, so yeah I’m “here” for those reasons too.

Chest Rockwell summed it up great in my opinion:

“The young ankle biters that want to piss in the tall grass someday are why I stay. People who want it bad enough will seek it out.”

So to recap or TL;DR it for you:

So I do it for the friendships that I have forged. While there are plenty of worthless dipshits that will try and waste my time if I let them, there are a few really great guys that I have met that I’m honored to call my friends. I do it for those connections and those memories.

I do it because I remember what I was like when I didn’t have any clue whatsoever and wasted years and countless dollars going down rabbit holes that were all dead ends. I liken myself to a warning sign for those that truly want to do it the “hard way.” You really want to fuck around and not do the work? You’ll wake up in your 40’s, married, miserable, and probably considering suicide as a viable option. Do you really want to go there? But then again, maybe that’s exactly what you need to do for yourself. It’s what I had to do apparently.

I do it for the “thrill.” The nostalgia. It’s a rush for me when I see a less experienced man “nut up” and do it. I feel his “win.” So yeah, Dante was “right” when he said that you guys doing the work and giving the field reports are bringing me value. Because it is a form of value to me. It is a form of vicarious living for me, I’m not going to lie. The difference is, I’m reliving stuff through you. If you haven’t gone out and had the experience, I’ll either know you’re lying, or something that in my opinion is even worse, you are vicariously living through me. You’re either too scared or too lazy to live your life, so why not live it through Rob’s life? I mean, hey, I’m flattered if you think that highly of me that you would want my life, but wouldn’t you rather have your own instead? You want my life, the life that I created for myself? You have to do the work. No getting around it, buddy.

And the final piece, I’m “here” because where else am I going to find the guys and the stories and the experiences that revolve around my favorite subject, women?