Tag: lifestyle

The Ultimate Goal

Rob SaysLeave a comment

Screenshot_20200728-090239 (2)

“Is the ultimate goal of an older man to get so set in his life that there’s nothing consequential a woman can add to his lifestyle except herself?” – Dr. Lucas Bly

YES.

I saw a tweet the other day and it got me to thinking. When I was younger, back in my 20’s and even through my 30’s and into my very early 40’s, I always thought that I needed or even wanted a woman to be able to somehow “contribute” to my lifestyle. I wanted her to be able to “bring something to the relationship,” something that I either needed or wanted. Something that I was lacking.

Let me tell you right now, that way leads to disappointment and potentially to misery. Women are a compliment to your life, as Rollo is fond of saying, and I agree. You need to “have a life” though and your life itself can’t be about her.

I don’t mean that you can’t have women in your life and that if you do, the only thing that they will be able to offer is sex. You can and you will, if you put yourself out there, find women who have more to offer than just sex. But you need to “have a life” first. A life that regardless if she is in it or not, you are good. You are good with your life and where and how it is going. She has nothing to do with that.

Sometimes the most consequential thing a woman can bring to a man’s life is nothing more than herself. This isn’t pedestalization, this is simply man and woman dynamics at play. It doesn’t make her a princess or a special snowflake, but when she is in your life, for however long she is in your life, she adds to it. There is more being brought in than if she wasn’t there. But at the same time, you are good without her being there.

Part of my lifestyle is that I have my finances in order. That doesn’t necessarily mean that I’m completely debt free, because I’m not, but it does mean that whether there is  a woman, or more than one woman in my life, my finances will not suffer. I do not rely on her to pay any of my bills. I do not need her as a roommate to contribute to my mortgage. If I’m involved with women, my debts aren’t hers and vice versa. She gets to figure out how she is going to get herself out of the hole she has dug for herself. Her debts are not my problem.

My life is in order so whether women show up, leave, stick around, flake, ghost, or do anything else, I’m good. They can be in my company and we’ll have a great time for as long as that lasts, or she can go and do something else with somebody else. Either way I’m good.

Getting “set in life” doesn’t mean that you have become crystallized and are an immovable block of granite with no room to grow and to change or to enjoy things with a woman, or to enjoy her herself. It doesn’t mean that you don’t feel anything either. It just means that you have most if not all of your affairs in order and that no matter what happens, no matter who comes into your life, and no matter who leaves your life, you will ultimately be okay.

Living this way is not only reassuring to me, which is the most important reason for doing it, but it takes pressure off of her as well. You don’t need her for anything, so you don’t have an air of desperation about you. There are no covert contracts going on. In many ways, you can “just be yourself.”

I’ve played house twice in my life so far. The first time was my marriage, which lasted for a total of seven years, and the second time was a long term, live-in girlfriend which lasted for about four years. Both times I had the basic finances covered. The house and the mortgage are both in my name and my name alone. I make enough money to pay that and all of my utilities plus a few luxury expenditures as well as leaving enough behind to save up for a rainy day. Anything monetarily that I woman brings to me as far as our relationship goes, is gravy. I’m willing to let her spend money on me, but I don’t need her to and I’ve never become dependent on a woman for that.

I figured that one out for myself back in my mid-thirties, so it’s been over a decade that I’ve been living with that “blueprint.” It has not steered me wrong. I’ve had a bunch of casual and short term relationships as well as the two longest relationships of my life under the same roof, and when all of those relationships ended for one reason or another, I’ve come out fine in the end.

When I love women, I love them hard. I go all in. I don’t hold anything back. I guess that is the romantic in me, or the somewhat artistic side of me coming out. That doesn’t mean that I lose my mind and start doing stupid shit, but that also doesn’t mean that I need them or that I’m going to do something as foolish as take on their debt or sign up for more debt with them. Loving them hard and my fiscal decisions about my own life have nothing to do with each other. They are two completely seperate categories and as far as I’m concerned, they are mutually exclusive. I can love deeply, feel things profoundly, and I can also say that my life is in order enough and intact enough that if and/or when she leaves, I’ll be just fine.

So to answer that question that was asked, “Is the ultimate goal of an older man to get so set in his life that there’s nothing consequential a woman can add to his lifestyle except herself?”

The answer is yes.

There is ideally nothing consequential that a woman can bring to my lifestyle except herself, and honestly, that’s enough for me. That’s why I happen to like women and I keep going after them.

It’s more than enough.

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Let ‘Em Burn Part 2

Rob SaysLeave a comment

fire warm radio flame

The Latest Dumpster Fire Brought To You By BullRush.

Hang on with me here for a minute while I give you some definitions. I promise, there’s a point to it.

The definition of sadism: A delight in cruelty. Yes, there’s a sexual component in the main definition as well, but for the purposes of this article, I’m not using the sexual part, just the delight in cruelty.

The definition of masochism: pleasure in being abused or dominated : a taste for suffering.

Normally, I’m not one to go back and read my blog posts once I’ve done the initial proof-reading and submitted it for posting. I’m definitely a “one and done guy” when it comes to what I write. Otherwise I would be constantly going back, changing shit up, adding something here, deleting something there, and the work would probably never see the light of day. My perfectionism in what I do is one way that I definitely set myself on fire.

I had to go back today though and read my first post about letting them burn. I wanted to make sure that what I’m going to bring up today isn’t just an entire repeat and rehash of that prior work.

Side note:

I’m really proud of that post. I’m also really proud of myself that I didn’t go back and start nitpicking it and rearranging it like I thought I would. I guess while I doused myself in gasoline with the thought of going back and revisiting it, I didn’t actually strike a match and set myself on fire.

The post still stands. I should hope it does, since it’s sort of my mantra.  Most of the stuff I write about is more, “notes to myself” than anything.

Here’s a funny thing I’ve realized:

I have a little sadistic streak. I get a little giddy when I watch someone burn. I find myself giggling when it happens. I’m not going to lie, it’s fun to watch them burn. I want to pull out the marshmallows and start cooking them over the fire, and then ask them, “How’s that working out for ya, bud?” But I know they won’t hear me over the sound of the flames.

I’m beginning to think in terms of sadism and masochism lately. The only thing I can think of when someone sets themselves on fire is that they want to burn, that they want to suffer. You and have both seen someone set themselves on fire again and again, over the same issue or issues. I’m thinking that if you do that, you’re probably a masochist. You enjoy the suffering. With the power of the internet at your fingertips, a group of Men in the ‘Sphere who are willing and able to help you out, and you ignore that help, or even better, you refuse it? You are a masochist in my eyes. You definitely get to burn. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you are a decent person, but burn you will. And I will enjoy watching it happen. I’ll warm my hands over your fire.

Every now and then, I’ll stumble across someone burning and get this impulse to want to help them, to save them from themselves. I have to take a step back, take a deep breath, and tell myself, “Let ‘Em Burn.” And then I can smile and nod, tell them what they want to hear if necessary, and get on with my life. I don’t get nearly as pissed off as I used to.

I have empathy, believe me I do. Whatever dumb shit someone is doing at that moment, I’ve probably done it before. So I most likely know where they are coming from. I just don’t do pity. I’m not going to feel sorry for myself when I set myself on fire, and I’m not going to feel sorry for you or anyone else when they set themselves on fire. You just get to burn.

I’m finding myself wanting to add fuel to that fire these days. It’s that sadist in me. Instead of just sitting back and roasting marshmallows, I’m wanting to “agree and amplify” the inferno in front of me. I’m thinking and hoping that what will happen is that you will burn hotter, faster, and brighter than before, and therefore you’ll burn out or put your own fire out faster so that we can get on with the business of getting on. Maybe that will work out. Maybe not. We’ll see. Time will tell.

Guys, if you are going to take “Let ‘Em Burn” to heart and actually use it, you’re going to have to get merciless and ruthless, especially with yourselves. Don’t do pity on yourselves. Don’t feel sorry for yourselves. Don’t kill yourselves when you set yourselves on fire, but don’t have a pity party either. It’s okay when you burn, that’s hopefully when and where you will learn about yourselves. Maybe you won’t be so eager to light another match on the next go around. Then again, maybe you’re a masochist and you enjoy your suffering. I understand that too. And if you want, I’m more than happy and willing to help you in that endeavor as well. I like to watch people twist in the wind. I enjoy the bonfires. The marshmallows are especially tasty when I’m toasting them over you. I enjoy it when I roast those babies over myself. Guess I’m kind of a masochist too.

When you’re either done burning and have put yourself out, or it burned out on it’s own, I’ll be there for you if you would like. I can either hand you a damp towel so that you can wipe the soot off of your face, or I can hand you another container of gasoline and another match.

Either way, I’m good.

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Stoicism

Rob Says2 Comments

person on a bridge near a lake

I’ve had some people reach out to me recently, asking me about Stoicism. I’m flattered and surprised that they are asking me about it, because frankly, what I am and what I do, I don’t consider “textbook” stoicism as it were. I don’t even know if I would call it stoicism at all. I’m just doing “me.”

I think I’ve got Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations somewhere. I think I have it on my Kindle. I think I’ve even read bits of it here and there. Honestly I don’t remember and I don’t really care. Beating off to dead philosphers has never really been my gig. There’s a world of experience to be had with the living that I would rather do than read philosophy.

My “brand” of stoicism would be ZFG. Zero Fucks Given. I don’t give a fuck what you think for the most part and I don’t give a fuck if you do or don’t give a fuck about that. I do me, that’s what I do.

How did I get “here” though? Maybe that’s the question that I’m being asked, even if not in those words.

Two major things happened that got me “here.”

  1. My mother died.
  2. A relationship that I had, that I didn’t want to end, and was terrified that it would end, ended.

Both happened within two weeks of each other. Back to back blows.

And I’m still here. I’m still walking, living, and breathing. I’m still standing. I’ve survived. I survived “it.”

I went through a period of grief and mourning for both deaths, and then I got on with living. As if there’s another alternative. If I survived that, I believe I can survive anything.

I gave up my fear. (For more on that, you should have signed up for the Masculine Geek newsletter, I talked about it there) I gave up my expectations of outcomes and was willing to see what would show up. I let go of disappointment for the most part. I made a choice to enjoy my life and I know that “good” times and “bad” times happen. I know that women will walk into my life and that they will also walk out of it too. Or I’ll walk out of theirs. Either way, there will always be another.

I realized that nobody gives a shit what I do or what I think. And that’s one of the most liberating things that happened to me. Since nobody gives a shit, I can do pretty much whatever I want. I know I’m not for everybody, I’m not everybody’s “cup of tea.” Nor are they mine. And that’s totally okay.

I don’t try and keep people in my life, I don’t try and hold them back from whatever it is that they seek. They are welcome to be around me for as long as they like or as long as I like. When they go, that’s okay, others will show up to take their place eventually. I’ll remember them and I choose to enjoy their company for the time that we share our lives in whatever form. I learn from them and I imagine they learn from me too. Maybe they do, maybe they don’t. That part, that’s on them.

I gave up arguing with people, especially random motherfuckers on the internet. What a total waste of time and air. They get to burn. Just like I got to burn. Just like I’m positive that I’ll set myself on fire and burn again.

I learned to vote with my attention as well as my wallet. I only give attention and money to those things and people that I happen to care about, otherwise, fuck ’em. I’m okay with being the villain.

I know for a fact that I’ve covered all of this before in other posts and even in videos. So why am I going over it again? Because people asked and I’m trying the best way I can to describe my mental and emotional state I guess.

In some ways, all of how I got “here” took many experiences and a lot of time, and at the same time, it literally feels like one day I woke up, and here I was. Poof! Just like that.

I really have to thank Rian Stone. That Man popped my outrage bubble for me. I can’t control the bullshit that is against Men, even though Men aren’t the target audience. At least not my demographic. That was a huge vote with your attention moment for me. Huge. Rian, if you read this, thank you. And if you ever get to Salt Lake City, Utah, the drinks are on me.

I’m going to sound like I’m going off topic here, but bear with me, I promise I’m not.

Why do we lie to ourselves and each other? Rhetorical question. I believe at least one answer is because we are afraid of losing something. We lie to women because we don’t want to lose them as an “option.” We lie to them in order to get the pussy, to get laid. We lie because we get lonely. And women lie to us for similar reasons. We lie to ourselves because we put expectations on ourselves that we haven’t met. We don’t want to be losers. We don’t want to be seen as losers. We still care what other people think of us. We still give a fuck.

When you stop giving a fuck, you can be honest with yourself and with others. I’m not advocating intentional rudeness and being a douche or a sadistic prick. But when you are honest you become a breath of fresh air for yourself and for others, that’s the only way I can describe it. You let down your guard and they let theirs down too. That’s been my experience anyways. Don’t be naive and don’t eat paint (as Rian would say) but you get the idea. At least I hope you do.

I’m honest with the women that I meet and interact with. I know what I want, the question is, is it something that they want? If yes, great! Let’s do this! If not, no big deal. Thank you for your time, I enjoyed our moment, and it was a pleasure meeting you. And then move on.

Guys, I’m here to LIVE. I don’t have time for your morality crusade if that’s what you’re on. I don’t give a fuck about it. I want to live every moment to the hilt. I live in the present and I don’t dwell on the past. The past is the past. You can’t change it, undo it, or rewrite it, so fuck it, let it go. I don’t worry too much about the future either. “Men plan and God laughs.” I have ideas of where I want to go, what I want to see, and what I want to do, but I’m flexible enough to adapt as the situation warrants. And if it doesn’t work out the way that I envisioned? Fuck it. There’s always another opportunity. Or maybe, just maybe, it worked out even better than I had thought it would? Wrap your heads around that one.

I keep moving ever forward. I keep on keeping on. I learned to get out of my head and into my body. I stopped over-analyzing every little thing. I stopped overthinking things. Sometimes there is no hidden meaning there for you to discover. Sometimes the only meaning for something is whatever meaning you choose to give it. Sometimes things are only important because you give a fuck and make them important. The rest of the world doesn’t give a shit, so keep that in mind.

It’s kind of difficult for me to write about this subject because it requires me to give it a lot of thought and I’m used to just “doing” it. I guess I’ve “internalized” it or whatever.

I’m tired of rambling, so I’ll wrap it up with this:

Good times and bad times come and go. Women come and go. Nobody gives a shit, so neither should you. (Hey that rhymes! Sort of.) Stop being afraid of yourself and others. Start pushing the envelope and see what happens, you’ll find out more often than not, that people will go along with whatever it is you are doing or wanting to do. Be honest with yourself about what you want. Ideally, be honest with others about it too. They can’t actually use it against you as a weapon if you do. And if they do? You’ll survive. You’ll still find yourself standing. If you do fall on your ass though, or get put on your ass? Get back up and keep going.

Guys, for the record, this isn’t despair or nihilism. This is life. It is what it is. You can choose to enjoy it or you can be miserable in it. It’s up to you.

Go back and read the last year of my blog. Besides my love affair with women, and a few rants, all of what I’ve been talking about here is in there in one form or another.

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