Also Known As:

The argument about cheating.

It’s making the rounds. Again.

Here’s the thing:

I’m not here to argue about whether cheating is ethical or moral, if it is good or bad. I’m here to say that it is a viable option in meeting your needs if your needs aren’t being met at home for whatever reason.

All my life, I have been told to “step up.” Put others needs before my own. Do the right thing. And I did exactly that for years. I ended up miserable and suicidal. Nobody asked me what I wanted. Nobody cared about what I wanted.

Sacrifice is your job. Up to and including sacrificing your life if necessary.

Men are expendable. Disposable even.

Nobody asked or cared about what I wanted, it didn’t matter. What mattered was what I could do for them.

And by “them,” I mean your family, children, spouse, and even society as a whole. “The Greater Good.”

The “Greater Good” comes at a cost, it has a price tag. That price tag is you and what you want and desire.

Since no one ever asked me what I wanted, I had to ask myself that question. Turns out I want a lot of things in life. Most of them are going to come into direct conflict with what other people want. This is where I realized that I had to be okay with being the villain. This is where I realized that no one was coming to save me. I am expendable and disposable, why would anyone come to save me?

It was my job to sacrifice myself upon the Altar of the Greater Good, why would anyone come to save me? It was my obligation to put other people and their needs before my own, why would they come to save me?

In fact, when I even bother mentioning my wants, needs, and desires, I get shouted at and shut down. How dare I have wants, needs, and desires?! What a selfish prick!

So I decided that I only have this one life, and it’s entirely my own.

And since doing the “right thing” only brought me pain and misery, I decided to do what I wanted instead.

Turns out that was the correct choice for me. Now mind you, doing what I want to do is still going to be seen as “degenerate,” selfish, “evil,” sexist, misogynistic, narcissistic, “satanic,” weak, soft, cowardly, low, vile, dishonourable, devious, deviant, and just plain old “bad” and “wrong.”

All of those words that I just mentioned I have been called before and I’m sure I’ll be called those things again.

It’s guilt and shame tactics, nothing more. It’s someone who is pissed that I’m not doing things their way for them.

It’s me not getting back on the plantation. It’s me not “manning up” and “stepping up.”

The thing is, I don’t care.

I’m not here on this planet for what time I have left ahead of me to have a popularity contest. I’m here for me and what I want.

“You need to be a leader! In your house and in your job!”

Don’t tell me what I need to be.

That’s just another euphemism to saddle me down and get me back on the plantation.

Yes, women may in fact need to be led, but it’s nothing more than an invitation from me.

Yes, I can lead, but if we aren’t dancing the same dance, or dancing to the same tune, I’m under no moral, ethical, or legal obligation to keep dancing.

I’m not Atlas. I’m not here to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders.

It’s not my responsibility.

Her actions are not my responsibility.

How I make her feel may be on me, to a very limited degree, insofar as is it getting me closer or further away from what I want, but even then, how someone feels based on what I say or do is still on them ultimately.

So a woman can accept my hand and my invitation and I will guide her in the Dance. Or she can step on my feet, dance to a different tune, and I’ll gracefully tell her adieu.

Her actions and behaviors are not my responsibility or obligation.

She either has agency or she doesn’t, and if she doesn’t, she’s not my problem to solve. I am not her chaperone and nor do I want to be. She gets to burn too.

I am not here to make her do anything. I am not here to lead her. I am not accountable for her. She can take my hand or not, nothing more. She either comes along willingly or she needs to be led.

There’s a difference.

And speaking of women and leadership, let’s tackle this one briefly:

To which I said, “There’s always another woman.”

If I need to game my wife/LTR to have sex with me, well I better learn some game. LOL

That’s scarcity mentality right there.

Here’s a little secret:

When you realize, truly realize that there are over 4 billion women on the planet, and you’ll never get through them all, why does any one particular woman matter so much that you’ll jump through hoops to have her?

Game is nothing more than social acumen. It’s the ability to read a room, “When in Rome, do as the Romans,” and the ability to have a conversation with the ability to escalate towards sex (flirting.) That’s it. Now, it’s simple, but not necessarily easy. If you can’t talk to guys, you’re not going to be able to talk to women.

So if she’s not “down to fuck,” whether she’s a woman that I just met, my long term girlfriend, or my wife, I guarantee you that there’s a woman out there who is. I actually said that outloud, a long time ago, to a girlfriend: “You don’t want to fuck me? That’s okay. I’ll just find someone who will.” It wasn’t a threat or even a promise. It was me simply stating a fact. And while I have had many short term relationships, several one night stands, a marriage, and 3 long term relationships (over a year minimum each,) and while it hurts to see them go, I know there is always another woman, and with today’s technology, they are closer than you think.

Something that Nuclear Caudillo (@CaudilloNuclear on Twitter) said the other night to Jack Napier and me:

“I am a bad man.”

He was referencing a show that he had gone on and the rest of the panel started to gang up on him. Instead of DEERing and getting defensive, he told them that he was a “bad man.” It took the wind out of their sails. He owned it and admitted to it. “Yes, I agree with you. Now what?”

Guys, I am a bad man, too.

I am not your guru. I am not a leader of men. I am not a father. I make a lousy husband. I make a shitty boyfriend. I have a wandering eye. I want to fuck all sorts of women because they are there and because I can and because I like “strange.” I am not a role model for you. If anything, I am a lesson. If you decide to do what I do or what I have done, caveat emptor. Your mileage will vary.

Then again, I couldn’t be happier and more content with what I have done and what I am doing. If I die tomorrow, I have no regrets (other than not fucking a few women that I knew I could have fucked.) I have lived a full life and while it took me a while to get there, I have lived my life on my terms. So yes, I am a bad man. I’m a Villain.

To quote Nuke once more, who was quoting Genghis Khan:

“I am God’s punishment.”

That’s me. That’s it.

I am the Tyranny of Evil Men:

I am the Devil, and I am here to do the Devil’s Work.

There is no “Brotherhood” coming to save me. Just more guys telling me to “man up” and do what they want. The only thing worse than having no “code” for yourself is living by another person’s code.

Cheating is a viable option, as I said earlier.

Many will argue, “Don’t cheat, just leave!” Yeah, there’s a code in there.

It’s more “honorable” to be honest and leave, than it is to cheat.

That way you’re not a lying, dirty cheater, you’re just a guy who lost his home, his kids, his income, and in many ways, his life.

All because your wife no longer wanted to fuck you for whatever reason, but you took the honorable route and sat on your hands, living a life of quiet desperation, sneaking in a bit of occasional porn when it got to be too much, and then you resented her and took it out on her and the kids.

Oh, and let’s add in a healthy dose of guilt and shame that your community and church instilled in you because you touched your dick while looking at internet hoes.

Now if you do decide to “handle your problem,” there’s something you need to keep in mind.

No one is coming to save you.

You are expendable. You are disposable.

If you figure out what it is and what you want, people will shout you down and demonize you for wanting it and going after it. People will disown you and hate you. People will call you every name under the sun and create new one’s that you’ve never heard before.

People will do everything in their power to get you “back in line.”

The question is, will you get back in line?

Go back to your life of quiet desperation?

Or will you do something else?

The choice has always been and will always be, yours.

I believe that men have an innate desire to help people out, especially women. The term “Captain Save a Ho” exists for a reason. I’ve seen guys get into the middle of arguments and fights between another man and a woman and I’ve watched some of those fights “go south” for the guy trying to do the intervention. Worst case scenario, the would-be “savior” ends up getting himself seriously injured or killed. I’ve seen women go from being the “victim” to turning on the guy who is trying to break the fight up. Now the would-be “hero” is getting his ass kicked by both the guy and the woman.

I’ve also seen people that are hell-bent on their own self-destruction. I’ve seen friends and family members get involved and try to help or to try and “save” the guy from himself. There’s a definition for that. It’s called “enabling.”

Many times, those that are doing some form of destructive behavior don’t actually want to be saved from themselves. Many times it’s a form of attention seeking and validation. By you giving them help or giving them assistance, you are actually encouraging them to continue their destructive behavior. You are rewarding the wrong thing. Honestly, most people won’t listen to you anyway. They want to do what they want to do because they can. Also it’s probably something that they have been doing for some time and it has gotten them positive results in the past.

You have to let them burn.

My ex-wife is a great example of this. She was a master of playing the “victim card.” She would talk shit about her family, about how so-and-so picked an abusive boyfriend and that the guy treated the family member like shit, and how the family member should leave the guy, and so on and so forth.

The thing is, all of her shit talking would get back to the family member(s) in question. It always does. Of course the family member(s) were none too pleased to hear what my ex-wife had to say. Drama would ensue, feelings would be hurt, and my ex-wife would end up in tears, saying things along the lines of “Why are they attacking me? I did nothing wrong. I just wanted to help.” Poor me indeed.

The thing is, the family member chose who they chose. Belittling the choice is saying a lot about the person who made the choice.

Going a bit back in time, I remember one day looking at the things that my ex-wife was doing and a realization came over me:

“She a 41 year old woman who has been doing these behaviors most, if not all, of her life. She does it because it has worked for her. She’s not going to change, because why would she? It’s benefited her.”

That’s when I decided to get divorced.

I realized that she wasn’t going to change and that if we kept going the way we were going, she was going to take me down with her. I could literally see the end of the road and what it would entail if I kept going down that road, so I got out.

I realized that she needed to burn and that the greatest thing I could do for her was let her burn. Maybe she would realize what she was doing and change that up and do something else. Maybe she wouldn’t and she would keep burning. Either way, it wasn’t and isn’t my problem anymore. (I hear from mutual acquaintances from time to time, and she’s still doing the same old shit, she’s still burning. Not a surprise.)

Sometimes you have to let them burn.

Every once in a while, I see a meme on social media that goes something like this:

“If you had a chance to talk to your younger self, what would you tell them?”

The truth is, I wouldn’t tell my younger self a damn thing. That younger me had all the answers and had it all figured out and wouldn’t listen to an “old guy” like me anyways, so why bother? Why waste the time and the breath? It would fall on deaf ears anyway.

That’s how it is for most people that I’ve encountered. They don’t want advice, not really. They want to be told that whatever they are doing is okay and that everything will work out. They don’t want to be told that their lives are exactly the way they are because of the choices that they have made. They don’t want to actually improve or change their lives, they want the people and the situations around them to change.

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Insanity indeed.

I’m a big fan of letting them burn and this includes myself. First-hand experience is often the best teacher. Most of what I know, what I guess you could call wisdom, is what I’ve learned first-hand. I’ve made plenty of mistakes over the years and I’m positive that I’ll make many more as time goes on. But that’s what life is about isn’t it? Trying things out and seeing what results you will get? See if what you’re doing is working out for you or not? The awareness you need to have though, is to realize when something is not working out the way you thought it would, and then do it differently or do something else entirely. Keep doing it over and over the same way and expecting a different outcome? Yeah, you’re insane. You get to burn.

In the recent past, I have walked away from most of my online dating and swipe apps. Why? Because I wasn’t getting the results that I wanted. It was a huge waste of time for the little results that I got. I got caught up in swiping and liking and sending messages to only get little to nothing in return. The women that “matched” with me or “liked” me? Not my type of women. Not the women that I’m attracted to or desire. But doing the dating apps, doing the likes and the swipes and looking at the pictures and reading all the profiles, it felt like I was accomplishing something, but in reality I was just spinning my wheels and wasting my precious time. Time that I could have been doing something more meaningful and more productive to me. Time that I will never get back. I was setting myself on fire and burning gloriously. I definitely got to burn.

It’s a far better use of my time to meet women in the real world, in real time. That way I can approach the women that I find attractive and I’ll get immediate feedback as to whether she is interested in me or not. Either way I’ll know sooner than later and I won’t be wasting my time. I’m not saying “Don’t use dating apps,” I have. Do they “work?” They can. Don’t let it be your only means for dating though. Exercise every and any options you have.

Nowadays when it comes to other people, I don’t give out free advice. I’ll just nod my head, smile, and agree with whatever they are saying. Nobody wants unsolicited advice, and most people will treat free advice like it is. Nowadays if people want my advice, they will pay me for it. People tend to value and listen to what you have to say when they are paying for it, and pay for it they will.

They still get to burn though. Whether they take my advice or not, I’ll happily take their money and be on my way.

And that “damsel in distress?” If I’m not having sex with her, she most definitely gets to burn. And even if I am having sex with her, I’ll probably let her burn as well, as unpleasant as that may be, because first-hand experience is most often the best teacher.

Welcome to the Year of Our Lord, 2024.

It’s been a minute since I’ve wrote something. When your life is going along pretty good, there’s not much to say, I guess.

Around New Year’s though, apparently a Trad broad decided to bake a cake and post it on the internet….

The whole thing blew up, probably went viral, and from what I saw and what I could remember, it pissed a lot of people off.

Some guys were pissed because she has huge boobs and was wearing a tight fitted shirt, but hey, she had her Jesus cross on. And since you couldn’t see any actual cleavage, I guess that makes a tit/cake video wholesome.

Personally for me, I like boobs. Her boobs were nice. What I didn’t like was her and her cronies shaming men for acting like men. You show me a set of tits, I’m going to stare. I might even comment on them too, it really depends on the context. What ended up happening was something that I clearly remember from my high school and college days. It was a variation of “Men are pigs! Men are disgusting! How dare you!”

Well lady, you put them out there, literally front and center. What the fuck was I supposed to look at?

Rian nailed it in the screenshot that I posted: “Everyone prefers an honest whore over a deceitful church marm.” Amen, hallelujah.

This is a huge part of why I don’t care for “TradCon Women.” You want to show off your tits and ass? I’m fine with that. Hell, I appreciate it even. But don’t get holier-than-thou on me if I look or say something. This is why 10/10 times I would rather deal with the so-called “leftist chicks.” You know, the “sex workers,” sluts, cam-girls, and the women that are generally good with their sexuality and male attention. Sure, they may only want your money and attention, but at least they aren’t going to shame you for looking at what they are putting out there.

“TradCon Women” are no different from the “304’s” that you guys love to hate, with one exception:

They’ll do the exact same shit, minus the skin, but then they’ll guilt and shame you if you look or say something. Fuck that, and fuck them. I grew up with that shit. It gets you nowhere.

Guys, is that something you want in your life? I certainly don’t. I’ve already been there and done that. Fuck that noise.

I would rather deal with a woman who will show off a massive amount of skin (all of it, preferably) and she’s good with me seeing it, and she’s even better with it when she notices me noticing her, and she can take a compliment without losing her mind over it.

I have heard a phrase lately going around in the Gay Monastery:

“Tradcon Women” are feminists. Or something to that approximation.

It’s actually accurate. Both “parties” want their boot-heel on the back of your neck. Both want you to police yourself to one degree or another. They really are two sides of the same coin. While I choose neither party, nor their boot-heels, I would choose a woman who is fine with showing skin to one degree or another, and won’t shame me about it if I happen to look. It’s even better if she can handle the compliment that I may or may not throw her way.

Everyone prefers an honest whore over a deceitful church marm.

I know I do.

Since we are now a few days into 2024, here’s another thing I’ve been doing since early December of ’23 or so:

2024 is the Year of the Block.

For the last several years, I didn’t block too many people. I didn’t want to “give them the satisfaction,” so I muted them. The problem is, those muted accounts still somehow kept creeping into my timeline on Twatter.

Now they get the block. I want my timeline to have only what I want to see.

“Rob, you’re creating an echochamber!”

No. No I’m not.

I’m fine with differing points of view. I’m fine with dissenting opinions.

I’m not fine if all you have is tactics of guilt, shame, or scolding. I’m not fine if what you say happens to sound incredibly stupid to me. I’m not fine when you try and add me to your team roster. There is no “we,” motherfucker. I only play for “Team Me.”

You want to run your mouth in my replies? You want to run your mouth in the replies of people I respect? You get the block. One and done. If you ran your mouth in a bar, like you do online, you would get your ass kicked. I have seen that happen before. Guy talking to another guy or to a woman, another guy walks up, interrupts the conversation and runs his mouth, and then gets his lights punched out for his problems.

I’m just going to assume that you haven’t learned the power of “Shut The Fuck Up.”

I have been on social media long enough to realize that whatever you or anyone else has to say isn’t going to “change my life,” or be earth-shattering. So you get the block. Scream into the void.

I have also realized that if you want to “parade my block” to your mutuals, it says far more about you than it does me. So parade away. While I will never know your name, you will never forget mine.