Category: Best Of

The “Black Pill”

Rob SaysLeave a comment

neon signage

Apparently while I’ve been doing other things, MGTOW and “Incels” have become a thing again in the ‘Sphere.

I don’t really understand people’s fascination with either group, they hold very little interest for me. Like Darth Vader said, “Asteroids (MGTOW’s and Incels) do not concern me, Admiral.”

They don’t concern me because I’m not one of them. I don’t have a problem with meeting and attracting women and getting laid and women don’t leave a foul taste in my mouth, so I really have nothing in common with them.

So what are my thoughts about both groups? I don’t think about them at all. Unless you find yourself in one of these groups, for whatever reason, you shouldn’t concern yourself with them either. Life is too short to worry about them.

Speaking of life, life is absurd. If you haven’t already figured it out by now, I’m an atheist. I don’t make a big deal about it because there’s nothing to make a big deal about. You believe in whatever you want to believe in and I’ll believe what I believe and we’ll call it good.

Life is absurd because for me, there is no afterlife. There is no heaven or hell but what we make here. There is no punishment or reward for a life well-lived (well-behaved) in the here-after. That makes things really easy for me. Since there is no afterlife, I might as well enjoy the life here that I have for as long as I’m alive.

Where life gets absurd is when you ask the question, “What is the meaning of life?” The answer to that question, for me, is very simple. It’s this:

The meaning of life is whatever you make of it.

That’s where things can get absurd. We want there to be “more” to it, but it’s really that simple. It’s absurd because there is no meaning to life inherently. So you could say, “To hell with it. I’ll just kill myself.”

To which I’ll say, “Yes you could. If that is what you choose. No one is stopping you and no one can stop you if you are serious about ending your life.”

Life is absurd but it isn’t a tragedy. I’m quoting Chest “Chesty” Rockwell from Twitter on this one. Life just is. What you think about it or what you believe about it is where you get to say it’s either good, bad, or otherwise. I believe it was Shakespeare who said, “There is no good or bad, but thinking makes it so.” Life is no different. Life just is. And life goes on. With or without you. Life itself is indifferent to you and me. It’s indifferent to all of us.

So you can choose to be unhappy, depressed, cynical, and angry about it. Or you can choose to look at it in a different way. Either way, life is indifferent.

“Life is beautiful and outside there is no salvation.” – Albert Camus

Life is hard sometimes. Life can be a struggle. You will find yourself dealing with loss and setbacks. You’ll find yourself not always getting the things you want. That’s life. Life wasn’t meant to be about you getting everything to your heart’s desire. It doesn’t work that way. Learn to deal with that and live with it, or don’t. Either way life is indifferent and nobody gives a shit.

Taking the “Black Pill” is choosing to look at life and say fuck it. “The juice isn’t worth the squeeze,” and all of that stuff. It’s about giving up. It’s about quitting. Want to quit? That’s fine by me, because I don’t give a shit. I have my own problems, just like you do. I have my own shit to deal with, let alone yours. You aren’t my responsibility, just like I’m not yours.

I wrote about a woman that I had a relationship with back when I was eighteen. When that relationship ended, I seriously considered putting the business end of a shotgun in my mouth and pulling the trigger. If I had done that I wouldn’t be here today. I would have been dead at 21.

I look back at those 27 years gone by and I’m blown away by the things I have done, the people I have met and the friendships I have made. The women that I have loved and they loved me back. As of this writing almost all of those relationships with those women have ended in one way or another. Sometimes I chose to end them, in other cases, they chose to end it. Some relationships ended about as well as a relationship could end, some of them ended in near disaster with a lot of hurt feelings and bruised egos on both sides.

If I had ended my life back then, none of the beauty and hardship of life that I have experienced would have happened. And I would still be dead.

I ran into that ex-girlfriend from way back when a few years ago. When I first noticed her, it took her a minute to remember who I was. That’s how little our relationship meant to her I guess. Apparently I wasn’t even a blip on her radar. Once she remembered who I was, we talked and had a few laughs strolling down memory lane. I think back to when I was that 21 year old kid ready and willing to kill himself over this girl who had turned into a woman after 20+ years.

What happened in her life from after we broke up and then met again 20+ years later? She got fat. She has been married and divorced twice. She has a teenage son from one of the husband’s. She has buried her own mother a year or so before we ran into each other. She has been a part of a business that had success and had also failed and went into bankruptcy.

She got over me and moved on with her life way before I had moved on from her. What would have happened if I had killed myself? She would have probably done the exact same thing that she did, the only difference is that she might have mourned me for a minute before moving on. I would still be dead. I don’t say this with any bitterness or anger, it’s just the truth.

When my mother died back in September of 2018, my father and I did the thing where you stand in line by the casket and you shake people’s hands and hug them and listen to them say what they have to say. Everyone said, “I’m so sorry for your loss. She was a great woman. If you need anything, call me.” And after they shook hands and gave hugs, they went about their day. Life went on for them and they didn’t miss a beat.

Same thing happened a couple of months ago when the last of my father’s best friends died. I went to the funeral, shook hands, gave hugs, said what a great guy he had been, and when I left, I told my Dad that I was sorry that his last best friend had died. Then I went on with my life. My Dad nodded and went on with his life too. Life goes on.

My ex-wife threatened to kill herself when I told her I wanted a divorce back in 2014. She didn’t really want to kill herself, she just didn’t want me to leave. But I was leaving no matter what. This was the second time that I had seriously considered putting a gun in my mouth and pulling the trigger. I was either going to kill myself or I was going to get divorced. One way or another, I was getting out. I didn’t kill myself and neither did my ex. What if she had though? I would have mourned her for a bit and I would have moved on with my life.

I remember telling her, “I don’t want you to kill yourself, but if that’s what you want to do, you’ll find a way to do it. All I ask is that if you are serious about doing it, don’t do it in my house, I don’t want to have to come home and clean that shit up.”

Pretty cold-blooded, I know. But it’s true. If someone wants to kill themselves bad enough, nothing will stop them and they will find a way. I know this because I know people who have killed themselves. Nothing was going to stop them and so they did. Otherwise it’s a cry for attention and it’s manipulation at its finest.

Every time I’ve stared down the barrel of a gun and considered ending my life, I ended up not doing it. I got help if that was what was warranted. I changed up the situation if that was what was needed. I did whatever it took.

And life got better. Every. Single. Time.

Life is what it is and life is indifferent to you and your struggles. And nobody gives a shit.

D7ctuZ6XsAI210G

The choice is always yours.

We all face the “Black Pill” at one point in our lives or another. It’s up to you to decide what you want to do about it. Life is beautiful and it is short. It’s far shorter than you and I both can imagine. Do you want to make it meaningful for you? Or do you want to mope around about it? Either way, nobody gives a shit and life goes on.

Sharpen Your Mind. Weaponize It. Start here and here. Sign up for my newsletter.

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.

Sharpen Your Mind. Weaponize It. Start here and here. Sign up for my newsletter.

Do You Even “Like” Women? Part 2

Rob Says3 Comments
woman sitting on bench
Got Your Fucking Attention, Didn’t I?

Larryzb commented on my post: Of course, the question arises: Do women even know how to love men these days? Have you taken that one up previously?

And I responded with: My experience recently is that they can and do, just not in ways that we as Men want or expect.

Now that I think about it, I haven’t taken this one up previously. So I’m going to give my two cents on it now.

My response is what I have seen, and yes, I’m ripping off Rollo. Why? Because he’s right. Women can’t love men the way we as men want them to. For a lot of years, most of my life even, I’ve wanted women to love me the way that I love them. Idealistically. Passionately. Even fatalistically. I wanted them to take a bullet for me. I wanted them to cry to me their undying love for me. I wanted them to kill themselves for me. Because at least for me, back in the day, I would have done all of that for them. And more.

Pathetic? Yes. Sad? Yes. Sad but true. And then I woke up.

Women will never be able to love us the way that we want them to. That doesn’t mean that they can’t love us. They can only love us how they love us. That’s a shitty answer, I know. It’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth. And I know that it’s a kind of circular answer too. They can only love us how they love us. Guys, I’m not a woman, and I can’t read their minds. I don’t know “how” they love us per se, only that they do.

For me, I’m big on affection. I like to touch and be touched. I’m sure there’s a “system,” or a book somewhere that will happily label whatever that means. Oh! Well Rob, that means you’re…

I don’t give a fuck. I just know that I like to touch and be touched. That’s one of the ways that I know that I’m being loved. When a woman fixes me a meal. That’s another way that I know she loves me. It shows me she cares and that she cares about my well-being. It really shows up when she takes the time to make something that I really like. It shows that she put thought into it.

Oh, and time. She may not have a fuckton of it, but if she makes it a point to spend time with me, that shows me that she loves me.

Of course, terms of endearment and words of affection are nice too. Calling me baby, is one. Calling me Daddy is even better, but that’s for another post at another time.

Sometimes when she either puts her head in my lap and puts her arms around my waist, or curls up on me, like a cat, that’s a good one. Even when she puts one or both of my legs to sleep.

Do women even know how to love these days? Yes, I believe so.

I see it in their eyes when they look at me. The sparkle, the shine, the shimmer. Whatever you want to call it.

I hear it in her voice when she answers the phone when I call her. All breathless and whatnot, like she just ran a marathon to grab the phone. And of course, she answered it on the first ring.

Sometimes she’ll send me YouTube videos of some sappy love song with a comment of, “Read the lyrics.”

Or she’ll just text me out of nowhere, “Thinking of You.” With the little kissy emojicons of course.

Or she’ll shave my head for me. Because that pleases me and I like that shit. Or she’ll shower with me and wash my back and the rest of my body. Or she’ll give me a full body massage, even though I know she’s dead tired from a long day at work. And she won’t even bitch, not once.

Or she’ll bring me a beer while we are sitting on the couch, watching a movie. Without me even asking her to do it. Or she’ll whip me up a mudslide.

Sometimes it shows up in her urgency to fuck the living shit out of me. Or the blowjobs. Goddamn..The blowjobs. But Rob! That’s not love! That’s lust! Fuck off, I don’t care.

There’s all sorts of ways that women love us men. It’s just not the way that we want or expect, or even hope for sometimes. She just does it her way, the only way that she knows how.

When we can let go of our expectations that they will love us the way that we love them, life gets interesting. You get to see that they can, and do, love us. You just have to drop the expectations and let them show and tell you in their own ways.

That’s all I’ve got for you on that one. I just know the one’s that show up in my world love me, in their own ways, even if it’s not what I wished for, hoped for, or expected. I guess I just roll with it and assume that they do. That’s enough for me at least.

I guess I could do worse. I could tell myself that they don’t love me, that they don’t know how to love me, and that they are incapable of loving me. But what good is that? Where’s that going to get me? Masochistic, I tell you.

Sharpen Your Mind. Weaponize It. Start here and here. Sign up for my newsletter.