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Never Tell Me The Odds..

Rob Says4 Comments

scientific calculator ii

I had a really interesting conversation with a young man a few days ago. This young man identifies with the “Black Pill Community.” He’s highly intelligent, not bad looking from what I can tell, and he’s short, like me. He’s my height to be exact, which is 5’4.

We had a couple of conversations that lasted well over 4 hours total and it was educating and interesting to me to listen to his take on how things are and why they are the way they are.

Now granted, I’m not this young man. I don’t have his life experiences. I don’t live where he lives. My culture and society is slightly different from his if I had to guess. He brought up a lot of statistics and numbers about a lot of different things.

Are taller men more desirable to women? I would say yes. Are there certain genetic features and traits that women find more desirable than others? Sure, why not? I know I’m no different when it comes to finding certain traits and features more desirable than others.

Honestly though, I don’t care.

I don’t care that women in general may find taller men more attractive and more desirable than a short guy like me. That just means that I have to work at it more. Yeah it sucks, but that’s life. I can’t do anything about being short, it’s totally out of my control, so I’m not going to worry about it and I’m not going to make an issue out of it.

I don’t care that some women are attracted to younger men than me. I don’t care if she happens to like guys with a full head of hair and I’m bald. That’s another thing that I can’t do much about, so I shave my head and roll with that instead.

If I had to be honest with myself on the “Attractiveness Scale,” I’m a 5. On a good day. Maybe I’m even lower when you factor my height, my baldness, and even my age in.

I don’t care.

Never tell me the odds. – Han Solo 0_CgEx7G0G8aSgNpUN

I don’t care what your statistics say. I don’t care if the odds are against me. I’m going to do it anyway. I will succeed. It might take more time, more approaches, more work, more whatever, but I will succeed. Failure and giving up is just not an option for me. The only way that anyone will stop me is they are going to have to kill me.

Statistically, I shouldn’t be successful with women. My height, my looks, my baldness, and even my age statistically should be working against me. I shouldn’t have had all of the sex and relationships that I have had. But I’ve had them and I’m going to have many more before I die.

It’s because I don’t care about statistics, genetics, and the odds. And you’re going to have to kill me to stop me.

The woman you approached shot you down? That sucks. Try again. And again. And again. Keep going, keep at it. Look at what you said and did and try something else, do something a little differently. I believe the term is called “calibration.”

One thing I’ve learned about approaching women is that it’s a numbers game a lot of the time. Many times I’ve simply been the “right guy at the right place at the right time.” I don’t delude myself into thinking I’m some sort of Mr. Suave pickup artist because I’m not. To quote Rian Stone: “Don’t care, got laid.”

My “game” is very simple: I see a woman that I find attractive and I pay attention to anything she puts out there that shows me that she may in fact be attracted to me. If she makes eye contact, looks away, looks back again, smiles, giggles, and plays with her hair or her clothes? I’m going to talk to her.

What am I going to say? Other than “Hi, you look like you’re fun! What’s your name?” I have no idea. Whatever falls out of my mouth is where I go from there. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes I make an ass out of myself. I don’t care. It was fun while it lasted and there’s always another woman to talk to.

More often my boldness and willingness to walk up and talk pays off more than not.

I’ve had several women over the course of my life tell me, “You have balls.” Apparently that was what it took to pull them to me. So that’s my “game.”

Statistically many guys and women for that matter, shouldn’t be walking the earth. And yet they are. Why is that?

Shut up, I don’t care.

I’m short, I’m bald, I’m not wealthy, and I’m not jacked. I’m a 5. Oh boo hoo, woe is me. I might as well give up because the odds are against me and the competition is just too much and is too fierce. Might as well just pack it in and go home.

Except I don’t care about any of that. I approach because that’s what I want to do. Why? Because women are more fun than using my hand. Because women add value to my life and I enjoy their company. Because women smell and look nice. And there’s nothing like seeing the look on a woman’s face when she will do anything for you. That, and they’re just plain fun.

You can tell me that the odds are against me, and you’ll probably be right. But I don’t care. I don’t care about the odds or your stats and graphs. I’m going to do what I want to do and I’ll succeed.

If I can do it once, I can do it again. And so I do. So can you.

While genetics and looks play a part, I truly believe it is your attitude or your “will” that matters more. Your “mindset.” This applies to any endeavor in life, whether it’s a job, making money, attracting women, having relationships, making friends, or anything else.

When the young man and I finished our conversations I realized something:

He hates being “Black Pilled.” He hates being a part of that “community.” And yet, he’s invested himself in it. It’s become a part of his identity. He wants a way out, but not really.

I find it sad that he takes bitter comfort in statistics and odds and numbers, because I don’t. But then again, like I told him, “I’m not here to save you from yourself. You can listen to what I say and do with it what you will. All of your statistics may in fact be ‘true,’ but are you good with that? Does that bring you any happiness or joy? Does it make your life better for you? Or do you want to do something else?”

Either way, he gets to burn.

Never tell me the odds, I don’t care.

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Comeuppance

Rob Says6 Comments
happy businessman checking message on smartphone in downtown alley
He just saw the latest “revenge porn” story.

I watched a couple of Rian Stone’s latest videos on his channel recently and he’s going over some material that has been in circulation now for nearly 8 years. The two latest videos that caught my attention was Michael’s story and Confessions of a Reformed Incel. In both videos, Rian points out and breaks down some really interesting information, and what is interesting and a little sad to me is that “what is old is new again.” Not to sound like a cliche, but the more things change, the more they stay the same. Check out those videos though, they are worth the time and worth the price of admission.

One of the things that really stood out for me was the bitterness that both guys had towards women in particular, “Chad’s,” and society in general. I can see why “revenge/outrage porn” stories have their appeal. It’s men getting a sense of justice, even if they are living it vicariously through a story of another man “who got his.” It’s women getting their comeuppance for their shitty behavior and their shitty choices from their pasts. I understand this. Hell, just thinking about it gives me “warm and fuzzies” at least for a moment.

But here’s the reality:

Kaylene speaking to Michael: “Michael let me tell you something: not only am I going to have my cake eat it and eat it too. I’m going to have it with ice cream and sprinkles”. All of the girls laughed and smiled in agreement.

Source

Some men like to think that women will “pay” for their poor choices that they made while they were younger, and in all honesty, some of them do. The real reality though is that most won’t pay for their poor choices because they won’t have to. There are plenty of beta males ready and willing to forgive them of their sins and ready and willing to wife them up. There is an ocean of guys ready and willing to give them a pass.

Understand that “the pretty people” have had it good for the younger parts of their lives and for the most part, they will go right on enjoying their lives at least into middle age or beyond. Just because you chose an air of superiority and chose not to participate doesn’t mean that others won’t. People living the “good” life tend to go on living the “good” life. Sorry if you find that disappointing.

You have a couple of options:

  1. You can stay bitter and probably end up unhappy and possibly alone for the rest of your life. If you are young, say around 25, you have roughly another 50 years of life ahead of you. That’s a long time to be bitter and possibly alone. I’m not talking about the Lonely Old Man Myth here, but it will be a possible choice that you may have to face down the road.
  2. You can “settle” for “used goods.” Guess what? Most women are going to be sexually active because it’s encouraged and because they can. Again, you can hang on to your anger and bitterness, and you can take on the role of provider/plow horse and maybe you’ll get sex from your wife who isn’t interested in you once or twice a year. But hey, you got to be a Dad right? If you think this way, your entitlement and your bitterness is still showing. You get the woman and the relationship you deserve.
  3. You can say fuck it all and walk away. Plenty of guys go this route. Maybe it’s for you. It’s not for me. It seems too much like surrender and giving up. If you are young, you still have the rest of your life ahead of you to figure out what you are going to do with your time. Don’t worry though, you’ll have plenty of time to figure that out.
  4. You can accept reality for what it is and you can join in on the fun. Instead of being angry that things aren’t the way that you think they should be, you can accept them for what they are and enjoy yourself, your life, and the women that show up in your life. Not all women are absolute whores. Not all of them have made the shittiest of shitty decisions. You won’t know that though if you can’t get outside of your bitterness and your ideals. You can have all sorts of amazing experiences with a bunch of amazing women and who knows, one of them could turn into something that could possibly last you the rest of your life.

I don’t know about you, but I know for me I would rather be on my deathbed with all of my memories of the people I have met and the things I have done than dying alone, which we all do anyways, with nothing but regret and ideals swimming in my head of things that never were and would never be. You see, I don’t regret the things I have done. I don’t regret the things that didn’t work out the way that I had hoped they would. I regret the things that I haven’t done and now that window of opportunity is gone. I regret not making certain decisions and certain choices and taking certain actions, because now I’ll never know how those things could have turned out. That’s what I regret. Ideals of what “ought” to be and fear paralyzed me into doing nothing and that is the biggest regret of all.

Comeuppance is a great dopamine hit. It’s that satisfaction that “Karen” got what was coming to her in the end. The real truth though is that comeuppance is just another form of mental masturbation. It’s another coping mechanism to get you out of taking responsibility for your own life and your own choices. It’s another way for you to not take action or do anything but it sure feels like you are doing something.

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The “Lonely Old Man”

Rob Says4 Comments

2020-01-27 (2)

Ain’t got no woman next to me
I just got this magazine
And what’s on the TV screen
But that’s okay with me – Mr. Bungle

I’ve been thinking about “The Lonely Old Man” myth, and it is a myth, for awhile now. Fear-mongers and dipshits (see above photo) will try and capitalize on men’s fear of being the “Lonely Old Man.”

Got news for you:

We all die alone.

That’s right. We all die alone. The days of dying in your bed, surrounded by your family and loved one’s are over and have been for some time.

My grandfather on my father’s side died in 1995 at the age of 85. He had a major stroke in his sleep and it put him in a coma. The doctor’s all figured he wouldn’t live for more than a day or two at the most, and that he would never come out of the coma. And yet he did. He lived for a few months and he came out of the coma. He was paralyzed on one complete side of his body. He couldn’t see or hear from his left side if I remember correctly. He also couldn’t speak. He could understand you though, and he was aware of what what going on around him.

He lived on and was moved from ICU to a standard room and then was eventually moved to a rehabilitation facility with a high prognosis of being released to live out the rest of his days in his home. My grandmother was 77 at the time and struggled to take care of herself, let alone a man who would never walk again, would live the rest of his days in mute silence for the most part, and would need help with everything. She was terrified of the prospect of having to become a full time caregiver to her husband. She was willing to do it, mind you, but she was terrified nonetheless.

As fate would have it, that scenario never came to pass. My grandfather died in his sleep one night at the rehabilitation facility from complications from pneumonia. He died at the age of 85, and he died alone. No one from friends or family was by his side when he died.

My grandmother died at the age of 98 in 2015. She too died in her sleep and alone in a rest home. No one from family was there at the time that she died.

My grandfather on my mother’s side died in 2004 from complications from a surgery that he had just had. He too died alone in a hospital bed with no one from friends or family surrounding him.

My mother died on September 17, 2018. She too died in a hospital bed, in her sleep. She had a couple of close friends there to witness her passing, but my father and I were not there. She died from complications from chemotherapy from ovarian cancer.

We no longer care for our elderly in our own homes for the most part. Taking care of someone in their final days can be taxing to say the least. Most people do not have the skills or the knowledge to do this task anymore. Long gone are those days, and long gone are the days where you buried your dead in your own backyard.

When my ex-girlfriend decided to end our relationship at the beginning of September of 2018, I was devastated. Not going to lie. For several months afterwards, sleeping alone was tough. In fact, I would say that was one of the hardest things to get used to. Sleeping alone. In my own bed.

But I got used to it. It took some time, but I got there. Now I revel sleeping alone in my own bed. All of it is mine. I can sprawl out in any direction I desire, and I don’t have to worry about disturbing anyone with my movements or on the occasion that I get up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom or get a drink of water.

I still have the occasional “sleepover” once in awhile. Several women have shared my bed and shared the night with me and woke up in the morning with me since my breakup. I still enjoy sleeping alone more though.

My Dad sleeps alone these days as well. If history repeats itself to one degree or another, he’ll most likely die in his sleep and he’ll die alone too. Both he and I are good with that. It is what it is. He struggled initially with sleeping alone after my mother died, much like I did when my ex-girlfriend moved out. He too got over it in time. He enjoys sleeping alone in his bed as well. Nothing and no one to disturb him or vice versa. His girlfriend has her own home and her own bed to sleep in, and that’s the way they both like it.

I’ve met plenty of people over the years that live alone. Many of them choose to not re-enter the dating world. My ex-mother-in-law is a case in point. Her husband died back in 1999, way before I had ever met my now ex-wife, and chose not to get involved with men ever since. As far as I know, she’s still single and still not looking or interested in meeting another man. I imagine she still is enjoying her life, just like she was when I knew her.

I know a few things for myself at this point in my life:

I’ll most likely never remarry again. There’s no point in doing it. The risks and liabilities outweigh the pros and the rewards. Now that doesn’t mean that I won’t have relationships with women, it just means that I don’t think I’ll ever remarry.

Another thing I’ve thought about a lot over the last year is that I’ll probably never have another live-in relationship again. I’ve “played house” twice now, and I’ve received similar outcomes, which means that the common denominator is me. I don’t think I’m cut out for the whole “domesticated” thing. I enjoy my freedom too much to make those sorts of compromises and sacrifices again.

One of my girls and I had that talk the other night. She’s definitely in no hurry to live full time with another man. She raised her kids and she took care of her husband until their relationship ended. She did that for more than twenty years. Now she’s more interested in taking care of herself and doing what she wants. I can’t argue with that. The last thing I want is a woman who tries to “mother” me. I had a mother, thank you, and she was more than enough. I don’t need or want another one.

So the “Lonely Old Man” myth is just that. A myth. I’ve met far too many people who enjoy their lives without someone there to “take care of them.” More often than not, in today’s society, you will end up in a nursing facility, a hospital, or some other “end of life” facility when that time comes.

Your spouse and your children aren’t obligated to take care of you at the end of your life, and they may not have the time, the skills, or the ability to do so when that time comes. Be aware of this, but don’t necessarily be worried about it. Accept it for what it is and enjoy your life.

If anything, the doom-sayers and fear-mongers that preach the “Lonely Old Man” shit are projecting and nothing more. They are the one’s that are afraid of what will happen to them at the end of their lives. They are the one’s who can’t sleep at night, wondering who will be there to take care of them.

I’m not worried about it. I’ve got plans to live my life to it’s fullest.

I may be alone later in life, and even for periods of time right now, at the time of this writing, but I’m not lonely. I haven’t been lonely in a long time.

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