Tag: red pill

Being A Short Man

Rob Says4 Comments
tall-woman-short-man
He’s at the perfect height.

The other day, when I was having yet another bout with insomnia, I was browsing YouTube, and came across an interesting video from Coach Red Pill:

https://youtu.be/Br19O_GUH3M

To be honest, I haven’t really given my height, or lack of it, much thought over the last several years. I’ve always been short, 5’4 to be exact, and it’s just part of who I am. Sure, I joke with guys about it, most recently I’ve been giving Aaron Clarey of Asshole Consulting shit because he claims he’s short at 5’8 or 5’9, I forget which one he is. I know what I’ve told him though, and I quote myself, “Fuck you Aaron and your 5’9!” It’s a great joke and a great time busting his balls and having him bust mine in return.

I believe it was Richard Cooper who first introduced me to the concept of “women like the 6’s” or something like that. 6 feet tall, 6 pack abs, 6 inches in the pants, 6 figure income, 6 months out of a relationship, and…. I forget the other one. Apparently these are the “ideals” that women may have for men. Well if that’s the case, I guess I’m screwed, and not in a good way. I’m none of them at the moment, and in the case of 6 feet tall, I’ll never be that, and that’s totally fine by me.

I do remember a time when I was much younger, like back in my early twenties, and I have to admit that my lack of height was something that did bother me a bit. All of my male friends were taller than me, much taller in most cases. Standing next to them for a photo, it looked like I was standing in a hole.

As time went on though, I realized a few things:

  1. My height didn’t matter nearly as much as I thought it did. I’ve had plenty of success with friends, family, women, careers, money, you name it. My height was never an issue. Sure, sometimes I had to work harder at getting what I wanted, whether it was a woman, a raise, a different job, whatever, but that was okay, I just worked harder.
  2. Women have “types” just like guys do. Sometimes women liked me regardless of my height. Most of the women I’ve been with in my past were taller than me. My ex-wife was 5’8. It was never an issue for her, nor for me. Funny thing I do remember now though was meeting and dating a woman back in my twenties who was 5’11. That is the same height as my Father. Watching those two interact and realizing that they were looking at each other eye-to-eye, that was literally eye opening to me. In the end, she didn’t have a problem with my lack of height, but I ended up having a problem that she was that significantly taller than me. I was the one with the problem, not her.
  3. It’s okay to have preferences. I’m okay with the fact that I’m not going to be any one woman’s cup of tea. Not all women are my cup of tea. Nothing wrong with having preferences. I prefer long haired, petite, and yes, short women, but nothing wrong with taller, bigger women. Just not for me.

The whole point of this post is for any of you guys, or women for that matter, out there that have an issue with your height:

You are making it a bigger deal than it really is. Seriously. Short of wearing platform shoes, or some type of heels, you can’t do fuck all about it either. Honestly, get over it and get over yourselves. You are the one making it a big deal. So that girl that you really like doesn’t like short guys? So what? Move on. Find another woman who does. Same goes for you ladies. Maybe you are on the other end and are a “tall drink of water,” and the guy you like likes shorter women than you. Get over it and move on. You’ll find a guy who is into your height, maybe he’ll be taller than you, maybe not. Either way, it’s not really a big deal in the long run.

As a side note:

When I was in my twenties, I started losing my hair. I remember to this very day something that a very attractive woman said to me when I first met her and the guy she was dating. We were drinking and I was busting this guy’s balls and he said that he was 27 years old at the time. I gave him shit for being “old.” (I was 23 at the time.) This woman comes back with, “Why are you giving him shit? You are the same age as him aren’t you?” To which I replied, “No, I’m 23.” To which she said, “Oh.”

“You thought I was 27? What made you think that?”

“I’m sorry, but I thought you were older because of your receding hair.”

Ouch.

I remember that like it was yesterday. After she said that to me, I became very self conscious about my receding hair. Every time I interacted with someone, especially a woman, I had a recurring thought go through my head. “Is she looking at me? Or is she looking at my receding hair?”

I remember going on with this thought, this insecurity, for another seven years.

In early 2000, I couldn’t stand it anymore, and so I shaved my head. My insecurity about women staring at my bald head went away immediately. Of course they are staring at my bald head, what else are they going to look at? I can’t get any more bald than this. Well, I could, but if I did, you would be seeing bone instead of skin.

Turns out that being bald works for me. It fits my “personality.” Same could be said for you Men out there experiencing hair loss. Quit fucking around torturing yourself with it and shave it off. Be done with it.

Same with your height or lack of it. Own it and let it go. Do you. Like I said earlier, you are making it a bigger deal than anyone else is.

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Always On The Go

Rob Says1 Comment

time lapse photography of train

I know a few people in my life that are always on the go. They got shit to do. They want to be efficient and productive. If they don’t have an itinerary to follow, they get anxious. It’s like the Hounds of Hell are nipping and chasing at their heels.

Don’t get me wrong, I get it. I prefer to be productive and doing things instead of lying around like a lazy piece of shit.

I also know that while being productive and on the go can be a good thing, I also know that you end up burning the candle at both ends.

If that sense of urgency to do shit, to be productive, is really the Hounds chasing you, were you diagnosed with some terminal illness? Do you know something I don’t? I understand that our time here on the planet is in fact, limited. We will all leave here someday. No one here gets out alive.

At the same time, I’ve tried burning the candle at both ends, and I just can’t do it for extended periods of time. I burn out. I get fatigued and exhausted. And I lose focus on the bigger picture.

What is the bigger picture? I’m glad you asked. It’s going to be different for everyone, but the bigger picture for me is the time that I get to spend with those that I cherish.

I’ve traveled quite a bit over the years and I’ve seen a lot of places and things. I’ve definitely bought the T-shirt. You know the one: Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt. In all of the places I’ve been, with all the things I’ve seen, only one thing really has mattered to me over time.

It’s not where I’ve been or where I’m going. It’s not seeing this place, that thing, or the other thing. It’s who I’ve spent my time with that matters the most.

I would rather sit next to a fire, smoke a great cigar while sipping scotch, talking philosophy with good friends than hike the Grand Canyon by myself.

I would rather ride my motorcycle next to a couple Brothers, flying down the highway, feeling the wind on my face as we ride side by side than hike another goddamn mountain to see yet another goddamn peak, to look down into another goddamn valley just to say that I hiked up there and looked down there. The top of a mountain is overrated anyways. Same shit up there. Rocks and probably snow. And it’s cold.

I’m not against hiking or doing anything. It’s just that I would rather spend time relaxing and talking about taking over the world with good people, close friends, than hike for the sake of hiking.

At the end of your life, it’ll be the memories of the people that you did stuff with, that you talked to, that you shared a moment with, that will matter most. It’s not going to be that monument you saw in some national park somewhere. It won’t be the plane flight that you took to bumfuck Egypt, unless you met your mate on that flight.

It’s about the people in your life that matter most. It’s those memories and those experiences that will mean the most to you at the end of your days. Not how many miles you logged while backpacking across Europe.

Sometimes it’s okay to slow down and just relax. You don’t always need to be on the go, to be doing shit. Sometimes the best itinerary is no itinerary at all.

Like the tired old cliche goes: Slow down and smell the flowers. Or something like that. Or in my case, sit down, drink some scotch, smoke a good cigar while talking to close friends about everything and nothing at all.

You can take over the world and be the whirlwind that you are tomorrow. While we all have to leave this world eventually, and we will all leave it sooner than we think, I do think that for the most part, you and I will both still be here tomorrow.

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I Am Tyler Durden. (And So Are You.)

Rob Says2 Comments
Durden-fa-pipi
Don’t Mind Him, He’s Just Pissing In The Lobster Bisque.

I just got done watching Fight Club for the umpteenth time, what can I say? I enjoy this film. I’ve lost count as to how many times I’ve seen it over the years, but I can say that when it came out in what? 1999? I saw it at least three times in the theater itself. I’ve seen it on cable countless times, bought the dvd when it came out, and even bought the 10th anniversary edition on Blu-Ray.

While I can sit here and wax poetic about the entirety of the film, one scene in particular has always stood out for me. It’s the scene where Tyler and “Cornelius” (come on, we all know he’s “two dudes in one man’s body”) go through their assorted “odd jobs.”

“He was the guerrilla terrorist of the food service industry….”

This particular scene of Tyler pissing in the lobster bisque reminds me of when I used to work in the food service industry as a teenager and as a bartender in my early to mid twenties. While this scene could be seen as extreme, I assure you it’s not. Maybe you know where I’m going with this. Maybe you’ve even done it yourself.

I’ve always made it a point to be nice to food servers and the other staff at a restaurant, bar, whatever. I choose this because I’ve been Tyler Durden. I may have not pissed in the lobster bisque, but I have done things to extract vengeance against an asshole customer. So have many of my previous co-workers. Where else do you think I first learned the “Art of Getting Even?”

Some douche made the waitress cry? His steak got “special seasoning.” Some dickhead decided to turn his own volume up to eleven? Food got dropped on the floor, picked back up, tossed on the grill for a moment, and then tossed on the plate to be served to said dickhead.

And Visine. Oh Visine is a wonderful thing in a bar. It has more uses than just for “getting the red out.”

What is my point to all of this? Why am I strolling down memory lane besides that I just got done watching Fight Club yet again?

Be nice to the help. Be nice to the man or woman who is serving you your food and beverage. Sometimes they can be dicks, god knows I’ve run into them while they are on the job, but many times they are having a bad day or a moment, and you get to be the one who gets the front row seat to it. Be nice even when they are distracted or are being a dick to you. Be nice because they can fuck with your food or drink. It doesn’t mean that you have to be a doormat and take whatever shit they are shoveling. If it’s that bad, either ask for the manager, or take your wallet and your money and go eat or drink somewhere else.

Be nice to the help because it’s the right thing to do. Take the high road. You may get all sorts of perks out of it too. I couldn’t tell you how many free meals, drinks, what have you, that I’ve received over the years because I was simply nice to the help. I have almost one hundred percent certainty that my food or beverage hasn’t been messed with either. Almost one hundred percent. There’s always a possibility.

If you are the help, thank you for what you do. Thank you for your tireless dedication to giving the best service and experience that you can offer. I know it can be a thankless job, believe me, I know. But I notice what you are doing, I notice you. Thank you.

And for you reading this, if you are that customer that I just described, if this is you, remember: I am Tyler Durden. Remember this every time you go out to eat or get a drink. Remember that Tyler works there. Remember that those that are serving you aren’t there to be your punching bag. They aren’t peons or slaves to do your bidding. They aren’t there to take the shit that you are shoveling. They will have their vengeance. They will have their pound of flesh. One way or another, what comes around, goes around. Think about this when you decide to go out.

Enjoy your meal…

 

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