I mostly talk with Rian, Jack, the Let Em Burn crew, and a few folks from the Married Red Pill. That’s a very small group of folks that are part of a much larger group of guys talking about (broadly) men’s issues. But the more I hear about the others, the more I don’t want to know what they’re about. In a very fundamental way, they don’t get it. They don’t get it, or they’ve forgotten it. They don’t get why so many men flock to the internet every day and discover this space. After watching all the red meat online, somewhere along the way, they’ve put the focus on whamen behaving badly, whamen getting their comeuppance, or dudes being chumps, or society breaking the backs of men, and have forgotten about themselves.

I’ve been here way too long. While complying with my government’s rules to stay at home for two years, I’ve preoccupied my time devouring Red Pill material. Once I’ve gotten fed up and left the house, I’ve done the approaches, got the dating apps, and eventually got laid. But in the middle of it all, I had to be called aside and asked, “Dante, you’re doing all this, what is it you actually want?”. This question rocked me to my core, because I spent so much time and energy doing shit, not realizing that I was actually lost. It took me several months, but since then I’ve come up with my answer. And to my surprise, it’s an answer that I think everyone in this space had at one point, but forgotten. So to save you the time, here’s my answer and, most likely, the reason you’re here. Class is in session.

Men and women, together

Rollo makes the claim that “Men and women are better together than they are apart”. And if you buy evolutionary biology, this is true. Every sexual (with male and female) species is designed to have the two sexes get together and reproduce. If these traits passed down from our evolutionary ancestors to present day you, it’s most likely that you are evolutionarily programmed to have the opposite sex in your life too. By being human (not me, I’m a panda), you are programmed to get women, fuck them, and be in their company. If you can’t accept this, stop and don’t go any further. We’re never going to agree on the succeeding paragraphs.

One key idea I found in Ian Ironwood’s writings (I’m summarizing and extending his thoughts here) is that men have an impetus for individual sovereignty, while women have an impetus for social harmony. From a sociological standpoint, having both in your court is highly advantageous. Without individual sovereignty, you cannot go after your wants and desires. Without social harmony, almost everyone would be dead. The most successful strategy therefore is to build a society whose foundation is a social harmony built on protecting individual sovereignty — men and women together.

Another example from personal experience: I remember when my sister and I were little, she’d clutch my arm when we cross the street and have her anxiety about getting hit by an oncoming car depend upon me for emotional support. The mundane experience of crossing the street became more exciting for me. Instead of me just getting to where I have to go, it became a game of “don’t get hit by a car”. And my sister wasn’t doing this deliberately. It was her instinct that drove her to do this, and I benefit from it as a result. There’s something about men that women need, and there is something about women that men need. It just is. Don’t be surprised then that men and women together would mean an increase in happiness overall.

Why this space exists

The early pickup artists were not going around hitting on women because they hated them and wanted to hold them accountable. Quite the contrary. The early red pill guys were not online discussing women’s nature because they wanted to exploit it and harm the women in their lives. Quite the contrary. The early married red pill guys do not talk all day about their wives because they wished she was dead. Quite the contrary. They decided, by dare I say instinct, that not having women/sexual companionship in their lives kinda sucked. This is the very core of it. And everyone talking about men’s issues has become distracted with talking about other things, like holding women accountable, getting back at feminism, posturing on Twitter, etc. This is an absolute tragedy. Because instead of solving this core issue, we’re coping and blaming and proselytizing and grifting.

As a coping strategy came forth the Men’s Right’s Activists – whose sole hope is that the state give them more stuff, the Incel movement – guys who hate women because they themselves lack the skill and courage to talk to them, the original MGTOW movement – guys who once made women the center of their lives and are sick of it, and the Black Pill (MGTOW 2.0) – guys who are looking for a reason to believe that getting a girl is a hopeless endeavor and that we should all give up. Coping strategies that cause general misery. Every guy here at one point did not want to hate women, did not want to fight feminism, didn’t want to blame everything on Biden or anything like that. They wanted to get laid, have girls stick around, and get their marriages right. It’s amazing how the algorithm and Smart TVs have gotten us to change our wants and desires for something that is ultimately against our nature. The modern relationship discourse by both men and women is one of the most toxic spaces to listen to.

But men did not originally come here for this reason. They came here to have a great relationship with the opposite sex.

Conclusion

So what’s in this for you? Ignore 90% of the content out there, and focus on this key idea: how are these tips, tricks, and ideas, helping me build a great interaction with the opposite sex? You will thank yourself for it, and you will realize your life gets better as a result. At least I know it did for me.

Originally posted on Substack.

“Male loneliness is rooted in a lack of intimacy, not lack of friendship.” – Chest Rockwell

I saw this tweet right before I started writing this post. In fact, this tweet is why I’m writing this post, so thanks, Chesty.

A while back, I wrote a post called, “Why Can’t We Be Friends?” and even did a video on it. It’s an age-old debate among men and women. Can men and women be friends? Go read the post and/or watch the video for my answer to what I think about that particular question. But Chesty’s comment is the why to that question.

Men and women both will tell you that you will “die alone as a lonely old man.” I hate to break it to you, but we all die alone. Even if you happen to die at the same time, in the same circumstances like a vehicle accident, you’ll still actually die alone. The dying process is a solitary one. Each and every one of us will go through it eventually, some sooner than others. We all owe the world a death. It’s inevitable.

But you don’t have to live alone.

I’m not specifically saying that you need to “turn that ho into a housewife,” or that you need to play house with some woman, but at the end of the day, male loneliness is a lack of intimacy, not friendship.

I have very few and very select friends. I can count them on both hands. Some of them I have known for over 30+ years and some of them are more recent, like in the last couple of years. Some of them I talk to on a fairly regular basis, others I only talk to them once or twice a year if I’m lucky enough to do that. For a few of them, I haven’t talked to them in at least five years, but when we do talk and get together, it’s like there is no gap in time. We pick up right where we left off.

After I got divorced and especially after my ex-girlfriend left back at the end of 2018, I spent a lot of time being alone. The loneliness would only show up when there was a lack of intimacy. One of the loneliest periods of my life was when I was married with my wife in the bed next to me. I sleep alone nowadays for the most part and I’m never lonely when I do it. I may be alone, but I’m not lonely. Sometimes I even prefer to sleep alone, that way I get the rest I need and I can sprawl in my bed any way that I want. I don’t have to share that space if I don’t want to.

Nermal died a week ago for those of you who don’t follow along. While I grieved at the time, and his absence is still felt and will be felt for some time to come, I’m not lonely because he’s gone. He was my cat and I was his human, and in a very weird way, he was a “friend” to me. In some ways he was more of a friend than most people could ever be. But I’m not lonely because he’s gone.

Friends are great, fantastic even. They can be a lifeline when you are staring into the abyss and they can help pull you back from the brink of self-destruction. But they can’t “cure” loneliness. Nor is it their job to try to do it, that’s on you.

Male loneliness is rooted in a lack of intimacy and I’m not just talking about fucking. I’m talking about actual intimacy. While I don’t recommend that you blubber and cry on a woman’s shoulder, it doesn’t mean that you can’t express some of your hopes and dreams to her. Moments of silliness and goofiness can be intimate. I know the belly dancer has seen parts of me that very few women have. She keeps being able to unravel the enigma that is me, and that’s because I don’t put it all out there from the start. Even if she was to see this blog and this blog post in particular, it would be yet another thread into “who I am” to her.

If you are lonely, getting a dog or another type of pet isn’t going to be the answer to solve that particular equation. Sure, you can call a friend and go out, shoot the shit, and have a beer, and that will probably “take the edge off” for a moment, but it won’t last for long. It’s your lack of intimacy that you need to address and do something about.

I have talked to guys who have paid visits to brothels and have paid prostitutes for sex. I personally don’t have a stand on this particular activity. I figure there’s nothing inherently wrong with it, it’s been around for ages, and obviously there’s a demand for it. So if that’s what you want to do, by all means, go out and do that. If you don’t want to do that, then don’t. Plain and simple. What I have found out though from talking to these guys who have paid a prostitute for sex is that while she is “hot,” and the sex itself at the time, was “good,” it was ultimately wasn’t what they were actually looking for. That’s because the guy may have been horny, but he was also lonely. Why is it that guys will pay exorbitant amounts of money just to spend a little time with a woman, let alone fuck her? Because he is lonely. He’s looking for intimacy, not just sex and release. It’s called the “Girlfriend Experience” for a reason. He’s paying for intimacy. He’s paying to alleviate his loneliness.

The guys who advocate “WealthMaxxing” are intentionally or inadvertently sending you down the same road. If money can solve your loneliness, which it can for a short period of time, well then you had better get to hustling and grinding. But realize like these guys that I have talked to have told me, it was a short dopamine hit and the loneliness came right back, sometimes before the prostitute had even left the room.

Getting new friends or more friends or getting a pet isn’t going to solve your loneliness problem. Making money or more money won’t solve it either. Don’t get me wrong, it’s better to have money than to not have money, but it isn’t going to cure your loneliness.

There is an answer though. I have talked about it on this blog over and over. I have hinted at it, alluded to it, and in a few cases, even spelled it out. I have done the exact same thing on my YouTube channel. It’s even what Nick, Bull, and I have talked about for the last three years. If you can’t figure it out, or don’t know what I’m talking about, then I can’t help you.

I remember back in September of 2007. My girlfriend at the time, who later went on to become my wife, and then later to become my ex-wife, brought you home. You were just a little ball of fuzz. You were pretty quiet, unless you were eating, and then you wouldn’t shut up. You were so tiny back then, you could fit inside a little easter egg basket.

I remember my ex-wife telling me that her dog “needed a companion,” at yet she had always been a “dog person.” So how the hell did you end up here? She knew I was a cat lover and had always been one, since I was a little boy. That’s how. The funny thing is, I knew her ploy, I knew what she was up to. The real funny thing is, you became my cat and I became your human from day one. This was back when you lived with her and her dog in that shitty apartment that she had. From day one you were mine and I was yours.

You grew pretty quick though.

Within a few months your colors started really showing up. I remember that you were mostly white in the beginning, with black balls and a black tail. Nobody could imagine the colors that would ultimately come out of you and just how big you would get.

I remember when the ex-wife brought Kabuki home. You had been living under my roof for about a year at that point. And I expressed my discomfort with having another cat in the house because I didn’t know how you would take her. Would you be aggressive and mean? Would you be territorial and attack her? Turns out you did none of that. You played with her. You cared for her. You mothered her. The same could be said about both dogs when they were around. You would occasionally bite or claw them when you had enough of their shenanigans, but for the most part you played with them and hung around them.

You and Kabuki became best of friends. You would have had offspring too if I hadn’t had you neutered and her spayed. You guys were inseparable from day one.

You would even pose for me on occasion.

When I divorced my ex-wife, she didn’t want you, she wanted Kabuki and the dog. I gave her the dog without a fight, because she and the dog had bonded in ways that the dog and I never did. But I wasn’t about to split you guys up. Not a chance in hell. So I got both of you.

You were there for my marriage and my divorce. You were there for my long term relationship that followed. It was my ex-girlfriend who told me one day that when I would leave the house, you would find your mouse toy, carry it around in your mouth, and caterwaul. I had no idea you did that until she told me. Talk about separation anxiety I guess. The funny thing is, you never did that when either my ex-wife or my ex-girlfriend would leave the house. You couldn’t give two shits. You were definitely my cat and I was your human.

You grew and grew until you became the magnificent behemoth that you were.

Look at you, you glorious bastard. In this picture of me holding you, you had your front paws on my shoulder. It was the only part of you that would fit there. When you were a tiny kitten, all of you could nest on my shoulder. And that’s what you did for closeness and comfort.

I remember on my birthday back in 2011, you got out of house because you liked to explore. I remember this because I came home from work in the evening and the door was cracked, and you were nowhere to be found. I remember it was the dead of winter and it was fucking cold. I called and called for you, but you didn’t answer. I hardly slept that night. I remember waking up the next morning and trying to call for you again. I was devastated and heartbroken. You was such a beautiful and friendly cat that I could imagine you going up to just about anyone. Stranger or not. I imagined someone picking you up and disappearing with you. I also imagined more terrible scenarios.

But as I was about to give up and go inside, you cried out to me. I found you underneath the neighbor’s car, covered in oil. I took you into the house, plopped you in the tub and showered you. You fought me for a moment and then just relaxed into it, letting me get that oil off of you. Once I had you cleaned up and mostly dried off, I cut you loose to finish the grooming job. Kabuki hissed at you as she smelled you and that’s because you didn’t smell like you to her. A couple of days later though, everything was back to normal.

You always made me laugh and feel loved. You even became an unofficial member on Masculine Geek, Let ‘Em Burn, and Red Evening. You would always come up, give me a hug, wipe your snotty nose on my microphone, and then plop your ass in my lap. I’m going to miss that.

But most of all, I’m going to miss you, Nermal. Today, July 15th 2023 was your last day. You had been getting slow and I thought it was just old age, and maybe some of it was. But you lost a lot of weight in the last couple of months. And your sense of curiosity was mostly gone. Instead of sitting on my lap or on the edge of the couch, you hung out on the bed for awhile, and then you hung out in the living room by the closet. And that’s where you stayed unless you would get a sip of water or a bite of food. That’s where you were when it was time.

I took you to the animal hospital at 9:30am on Saturday. The vet and the techs checked you out. You were so weak, so frail, that you didn’t try to escape or put up a fight. Your liver was failing, there wasn’t much we or I could do, and so I made one of the hardest decisions of my life. I decided to let you go. I decided to end whatever suffering you were already going through and to prevent further and future suffering.

I may be a sadist, but I’m not that kind of sadist. I didn’t want you to suffer and I hope that you understand that. I was worried initially that I may have been premature in the decision that I had to make. Then I worried that I might have kept you around for far too long, for my own selfish benefit. Turns out I was right on time.

Nermal was born in July of 2007 and he took his last breath at 10:04am on July 15, 2023. He was 16 years old. Goodbye my old friend. I will miss you.