Tag: regret

I Am Afraid.

Rob Says1 Comment

Something I’ve seen recently is guys talking about “getting your IG (Instagram) on point.” I want to address that for a moment and then get on to what is really going on underneath it.

Okay, so if I’m going to “maximize my prospects with the ladies,” I need to sign up for IG and “get it on point.” Because IG is the future and the way of meeting women and blah blah blah.

Right. So when I take on any endeavor, whether sex-related or otherwise, I look at the ROI (Return On Investment.) Basically, for the amount of time, money, energy, and effort, what can I reasonably expect in return? I’m all about investing as little as possible and getting as much from “it” (whatever it is) as possible.

So with IG, in order to compete with Chad and all of the other “World’s Most Interesting Men,” I need to get great photos of myself for starts. That means hiring a good photographer. I don’t know where you live, but where I live, a good photographer is going to run you $100 USD per hour minimum. That may or may not include post production editing of the photos that were taken. Also, a good photographer around here is booked out solid for at least three months, and yes, this is during the pandemic.

Then I have to either pay someone or scout out interesting locations to do the actual shoots. You can’t just have studio head shots. Anyone can do those. So I need to drive around and go to “exotic” locations. Which means I’m hiking around to find the perfect location to get the perfect shots to convey that I’m a man of interest and intrigue.

Then there’s the time of day to do the shoot. There’s really only two times of the day to do it for maximum results. That’s right at dawn and right at dusk. High noon shoots on a sunny day are horrible. You get weird shadows that are hard to remove in post production, you look old and washed out, and the photos look “flat.”

Did I tell you that I do photography? I do. All of my shots that brought out certain emotions and just “popped” were either done in a studio, or they were shot on location, either right at dawn, before the sun fully came up, or right at dusk, right as the sun was going down, but just before it disappeared from the horizon. That means you have about 20 minutes, tops, to get your shots. You better have already scouted out your location and you better pray that the weather is cooperating with you.

So now you’ve found your location, the weather gods are smiling on you, and you paid to have your photographer drag their gear up the mountain right? Oh that’s right, most photographers that are good are going to charge you “travel expenses” if you are shooting anywhere other than their studio. Now you have to be on top of the mountain, in the dark, because you’re shooting before dawn right? Or you get to hike down the mountain in the dark because you shot at dusk.

And you get to repeat this whole process over and over because you want to be seen as the man of adventure. Gotta have different locations to show the women right? Different times of day. Gotta drag your animal if you have one along too. Same with your bros because you want to be seen as a sociable guy right? Oh wait, you don’t have bros. Never mind that one.

So now I’ve spent a few hundred dollars on photos of me doing strange and interesting poses in exotic locations. I’ve had to scout out the locations or pay someone else to do that for me. I may or may not have to pay for post production on the photos, or I can always edit them myself, since I know how, but that also takes time. Also there’s gas for my bike or my car plus wear and tear on said vehicles. There’s also sitting around in traffic in order to get out of the city. Oh and if you’re into shooting photos in a nightclub or a bar? Good luck. Most of those places prohibit photography, especially if your dragging your photographer around. There’s also getting written permission from anyone that is in the shots if the establishment allows you to shoot photos. You don’t want to get sued because Chad was fucking some guys wife and you happened to get him and her in your shot while at the club. You know, privacy and whatnot.

If you’re not doing all of this, then you are probably half-assing it and you’re going to get half-assed results at best. Most likely what you will have is a mediocre IG account that gets swallowed up by all the other IG accounts that are already out there, plus the new ones that go live every day. Lots competition if you ask me.

All this expenditure of time, money, and energy with no guarantees that it’s going to get you laid.

Sounds like a poor ROI to me. All of this work and hustle when you could be out talking to women.


Lots of guys complicating their sex lives because of the one underlying thing that they don’t want to say and to admit to:

“I am afraid.”

It’s okay guys, I’ve been there too. Once upon a time, I was afraid of approaching women. Sometimes I still am. I was afraid of rejection because if one woman rejected me, then that must mean all women would reject me, and everybody was watching, and my bros would raise their eyebrows and say, “Dude…Really? That girl? Are you serious?” and there was a huge spotlight on me, and everybody would point and laugh at me and Chad would come along and just steal the girl away, anyways, so I might as well either give up because chasing skirt just isn’t worth it, or I need some schtick like IG so that I don’t have to approach women, but I’m hustling and I feel like I’m doing something worthwhile. I’m being busy for the sake of being busy instead of just admitting to myself:

“I am afraid.”

IG, dating apps, dating websites, match making services, and even texting to some degree are just crutches and buffers. They shield you from rejection. Being able to walk up to a woman and letting your intentions be known, and also being willing to be rejected is a tall order. It’s scary. I still get approach anxiety. I still hesitate and freeze up. I still blow it and get rejected. I get rejected way more than I succeed. I still keep going though.

Even when I didn’t know what “Game” was, the ‘Sphere didn’t even exist, and most information wasn’t easily available online, if at all, I still had to do it the hard way and walk up to a woman and talk to her. And I was afraid. I still succeeded though. Not as much as I would have liked, but more than I thought I would have.

You don’t “need” IG. None of the women I have dated, had relationships with, or had one night stands with had it or if they had it, they only used it for looking at inspirational quotes or plates and bowls of food. They spent more time on Facebook or Pinterest than they did on IG. Hell, most of them play games like Candy Crush instead of worrying about “likes” on social media.

I have not met one woman off of IG. Not one. I’ve met plenty from MySpace (back in the day) Facebook, various dating apps and sites, and of course, when I’m out and about doing stuff in real life. What’s the ROI? For me, I want to meet women with a minimum of ease, spend as little time and money as possible, and ideally I want them to come to me, show up at my house, fuck my brains out, and then leave. If we get along and the sex was really good, I’m always open for seconds, thirds, and so on. I don’t need IG for that. I just need a half decent photo of myself, if I’m going to do online dating, which means upper two-thirds of my body with my face fully visible, some corny intro line, and a little of my humor in the body of the profile. Or I just need to “sack up” and talk to her.

Humor is a strength of mine and it always has been, so that’s my “super power.” I’ve even told women that I’ll laugh them right out of their panties and right into my bedroom, and you know what? It worked.

Play to your strengths. Determine what is your best ROI. Maybe you live somewhere where IG is the new calling card. Fine, so be it. Maybe your looks are your strength, good deal. Maximize that then. I imagine though that if you are like most guys, you are average in looks. You are a “5” and you ain’t shit and that’s okay. Do you really want to spend a bunch of time and money spinning your wheels, pretending that you are doing the work, ultimately getting little to nothing in return?

Or do you want to be honest with yourself and admit:

“I am afraid.”

And then take a chance and risk rejection by talking to that woman that you see and find attractive?

When I look back at the absolute worst rejection I ever had, do you know what it was?

It was a woman looking me dead in the eye and saying, “Fuck off.”

That’s it.

I have never been slapped, punched, beat up, arrested, metoo’d, shot, stabbed, had a drink thrown in my face, or been thrown out of a bar for it. I’ve been thrown out of bars for other things that had nothing to do with talking to women, but that’s a story for another time. I’ve never been run out of town for being rejected, I’ve never had a mob chasing me with torches and pitchforks. I didn’t die when I got rejected.

Newsflash: You won’t die either.

Nobody pointed and laughed at me, nobody gave a shit. Life went on and believe it or not, that one rejection didn’t apply to other women, let alone all women. One woman turned down my offer, another one enthusiastically accepted my offer. Go figure.

I don’t think about my rejections because there are so many. I don’t dwell on them because at least I knew. I knew that nothing was going to happen with that one particular woman in front of me, so I could move on from it to the next woman. And that was the worst thing that could happen: Nothing happened.

The only thing I regret is the one’s that I didn’t talk to because:

“I was afraid.”

I don’t dwell on those regrets, but sometimes they pop up and once in a blue moon, they will wake me from a dead sleep. “What might have happened? What if I had approached her?” “What could have been?”

As Rollo said: “Rejection is better than regret.”

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Regrets And Opportunities

Rob Says1 Comment

black and white man young lonely

I have to start with a couple of stories before I get to my point. I would imagine that by the time I get to my point, you, Dear Reader, will have gotten the point. Let’s get going shall we?

Back in 2004 I met a woman online. This was before “swipe apps” and dating sites were really just starting to become a thing. If my memory serves me correctly, I met this woman on MySpace.

She and I begin a dialogue, which turns to checking out each others pictures, which turns into both of us sending each other more recent pictures, which turns into flirty texting, which turns into phone calls, which turns into Skype calls, which turns into both of us deciding to meet in Vegas for a weekend getaway.

This woman lived in Seattle and I lived and still currently live, in Salt Lake City. We both figured that Vegas would be a good “middle ground” and would also be neutral territory. Besides, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?

Fun thing happened when I went to get on the airplane to go to Vegas. She was already on the flight. Her flight from Seattle had a layover in Salt Lake, and was my flight as well. So there we both were.

It definitely made it easier logistically. Now neither one of us was going to arrive before the other. There was no need to contact the other person to find out where they were at, figure where to meet them, so on and so forth.

It was a great weekend to be sure.

Now, let’s fast forward a little bit. This woman and I continued our “romance” for about another 3 or 4 months. She ended up catching a flight to Salt Lake and stayed with me for a weekend, and I ultimately did the same thing and ended up spending a weekend in Seattle. I’ve never been to Seattle before my visit with her, it’s a beautiful city.

So now let’s fast forward to 2005. Seattle gal is a thing of the past, and enter Delaware Woman. Meeting her was pretty much the same thing as Seattle gal, so I’ll not bore you with those details. I believe it was in August, September, or maybe October of 2005 that I caught a flight to Delaware to meet this particular woman. Delaware is beautiful as well, and up to that time, I had never been there before either.

What I remember most about both of those amazing women (besides personal details and intimacies that I’m not going to share with you) is travelling around with them and the travelling I did to get to them.

Could I have met women closer to me? Of course. In fact, I was doing that as well as pursuing these two women. Just because these women were in completely different states from me wasn’t a reason that I couldn’t meet them.

I wasn’t kidding myself and they were not kidding themselves as to the status of our respective “relationships.” I wasn’t going to uproot and move either to Seattle or Delaware, and they weren’t going to uproot and come live in Utah. But that wasn’t going to stop us from having adventures.

Here’s my point:

I don’t regret meeting these two wonderful women. If I had to do it all over again, I would do it in a heart beat. I don’t regret that it took longer to meet them than if they had lived closer to me. I don’t regret the money that I spent to get to them.

The things that I do regret are the chances that I never took. The opportunities that I have missed out on because of hesitation or fear. Those are my regrets.

I don’t regret getting married in 2009 only to get divorced in 2015. I don’t regret that that particular relationship was the hardest relationship that I’ve had to date. Yes, marriage and relationships can be work, but when it’s fairly constant work, there’s more going on there than at first glance.

I don’t regret dating a woman who is twenty years younger than me. You would be surprised to find out just how much we had in common despite our age difference.

I don’t regret that I’m single again. There’s things that I am doing now that I would have not had the time, the energy, or the motivation to do those things if I was in a relationship.

I don’t regret that I told my Mother goodbye hours before she died. We both knew it was coming and inevitable. We both said what needed to be said to each other.

I only regret a few things.

I regret that I never went up and talked to a woman that I knew in school. Her name was Suzanne. She was stunning. She had the most piercing blue eyes that I have ever seen. I wish that I had had the balls and just gone up and talked to her and asked her out. Even if she had blown me out and told me no, that would have been okay. At least I would have known.

I regret that I never kissed another woman named Shannon. The worst part of that one is the fact that I knew, I fucking knew, she was in to me. She told me she was. And like a complete dumbass, I did nothing with that information. I was too chickenshit at the time.

You might see a pattern here. It has to do with women. I don’t regret the jobs I did or didn’t take. I don’t regret the money that I have or haven’t spent. I don’t regret the stuff I did or didn’t buy.

I regret not taking the chances with these women when I could have, and the opportunities that I have missed out on. I regret not knowing what kind of memories I could have made with them. I regret not knowing who and what those people were about. That’s what I regret. All because of fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of not doing it “right.” Fear of failure. And even in some cases, fear of success.

When it’s your turn to die, when you are lying on your deathbed, what are you going to regret? I know I won’t regret not spending more time at the office doing someone else’s work to make them more money. I won’t regret taking the chance on approaching and meeting someone new, and they aren’t interested in what I’m offering them. At least there, I’ll know. And if it doesn’t work out the way that I had wanted it to? Oh well, things don’t always go the way you wanted them to, but at least I tried.

And for that, I have no regrets.

P.S. If another opportunity presents itself, and I have to hop onboard another airplane to fly to another part of the country, or another part of the world to meet someone new and see what that’s like, what do you think I’ll do?

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