I Am Afraid.

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.”

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

One Key Step To Not Giving A Fuck.

I have a confession to make.

I’m not on Reddit. I don’t even have an account.

When I first found this “space,” this thing that we call the Red Pill, and when I found what we love to hate to call the “Manosphere,” I didn’t find it on Reddit. I just remember being miserable and typing in some search terms in our favorite Oracle and I ended up sifting through a lot of stuff and I landed at Rollo’s blog.

From there I ended up on Twitter and fast forward to today, here I am and here we are.

For the last few years I had heard about the Red Pill subreddit and I had browsed it from time to time. Most of it today is chaotic and a lot of the material has already been done to death and it seems to me at least, that the spergs have taken over.

However there are a few voices on Twitter that originated or at least have a major presence on Reddit. Rian Stone and Rule Zero Dad (aka Chest Rockwell – The Passionate Man) come to mind. Both have been contributors to the Red Pill Reddit and in recent times, Rian in particular has been going over the basics and the fundamentals in a series called The Red Pill Sidebar. It’s a great watch, for new guys and guys who have been around for awhile, but need a refresher every now and then. I highly recommend you guys check this stuff out.

It was the Red Pill Sidebar that interested me. I could get past a lot of bullshit and nonsense and get down to the nitty gritty. I could find things that made sense and in my own way, I could figure out what was going on and how to apply it to my own life without the peanut gallery throwing their .02 at me. Basically I was on the hunt, looking for nuggets.

Nuggets are those little take-aways, those “ah ha’s!” that I seek. Those little tidbits of wisdom and insight. While the sidebar has a lot of the “big stuff” in there, stuff that we all know and love and just take as “of course,” there are little, lesser known nuggets in there as well.

I found one of those lesser known and talked about nuggets, and for me, I can’t believe that it isn’t talked about more in “our space.” I believe this little nugget is in fact, huge. Without it, most of the other stuff isn’t going to matter or “work” for you.

That little nugget was way down the sidebar, almost to the very end, almost as an afterthought.

And it was labeled: One Key Step to Not Giving a Fuck.

It’s also known as: The Guide To Accepting Yourself (even when women don’t.)

Here’s the nugget:

“People who don’t care if they get ass…get more ass than you.

People with shitty bodies who don’t give a fuck…get more ass than you.

People who truly have zero ambition and are ok with that…get more ass than you.”

I know I ain’t shit, and that’s okay. I’m below average in height. I’m bald. I don’t have the straightest teeth on the planet. I’m not ripped, jacked, or shredded. I work for “the man,” and I have no ambitions to become CEO or to become an entrepreneur. I’m an average writer. My YouTube videos are pretty average too. I don’t have a “voice for radio.” And I don’t care.

For all the talk about having to be perfect to bang the ladies, I’m not perfect. I’m far from it. But I’ll bet I get more ass than you. That’s not a brag, a flex, or a boast. I’m not better than you. I just don’t care. I don’t care about any of the bullshit that you care about. I don’t care that I’m short. I don’t care that I’m bald. I don’t care that I’m not ripped/shredded/jacked. Could I do even better with my chances with women if I got in super shape? Probably. But I don’t care. I’m happy with the results that I do get. I have more opportunities than I will ever get through in this lifetime so I’m good.

I found a book on Amazon awhile ago, it’s called:

“The Tao of Steve: 3 Simple Rules of Seduction”

In this book, there are only 3 “Rules” and they are:

1. Be Desireless

2. Be Excellent

3. Be Gone

I love taking stuff and instead of having to break it down into its molecular components, I can “chunk up” and put it into something that is memorable and useful to me.

Being Desireless is Not Giving A Fuck. It’s simply you having a conversation with a woman without regards to the outcome. Do you want to fuck her? Sure you do. But you don’t care if you do. It’s outcome independence. You don’t care if it happens or not. You don’t care if she likes you or not. If she won’t, someone else will.

There’s always another woman.

That’s one of my beliefs or “mantras.” There’s always another woman. I may not meet her in the next five minutes or the next five days, or even in the next five weeks, but I will meet her eventually. And I end up doing just that. So why get hung up over any one particular woman? Why worry about it?

Every woman I meet and end up having any sort of relationship with is special to me. She brings her unique perspective and her outlook and experiences to my life. I learn something from every woman that shows up for me. At the same time, if they go, or I tell them to leave, another one will show up. They always do. This is why I don’t care. This is why I don’t give a fuck. This is why I don’t worry about the details that really don’t matter that you guys get hung up on.

Give that sidebar link a read. Absorb it. Internalize it. You won’t regret it.

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

Female Orgasms and “The Squirt.”

Clearly he’s never given a woman one.

The stupidity never ceases to amaze me. Every time I think I’ve seen it all, some dipshit comes along and proves me wrong. I guess stupid truly knows no bounds.

I can remember when I was much younger than I am today and I heard about women having orgasms. I can also remember hearing, and eventually seeing, a woman “squirt.” The first time I ever saw a woman squirt was in some porno video. Back then I wondered, “Is that fucking real? Or is it staged? Or god-forbid, is she peeing?”

Turns out the “squirt” is real. 2006 was the year that I found that out firsthand. I met a woman, I’ll call her “Cindy.” Cindy was a “squirter.” I didn’t know that until I took her home after having a couple of drinks at the local bar with her. We ended up in bed and as I’m penetrating her, she happens to mention that she may or may not squirt. Turns out she squirted. And then she squirted again. She squirted enough times that the sheets and the mattress were soaked. According to her, my dick was hitting her “just right.”

The first couple of times we had sex and she squirted, I’m not going to lie, it was an ego boost. I was “the man.” I could make this woman soak the bed just by thrusting in her.

After a couple of weeks though, the novelty of the “squirt” wore off, at least for me. I got tired of having to change my sheets every single time we had sex. I got tired of using towels to hopefully absorb some of her juice and spare my mattress. The towels weren’t enough and I was running out of them unless I wanted to wash a load of towels every time we had sex.

I also had to strip the bed down and let the mattress air dry. I don’t know now and I didn’t know then, but I didn’t want to take a chance on the mattress developing mold or mildew. Sleep was pretty much not an option as the majority of the bed was one big “wet spot.”

Cindy and I parted ways a couple of months later and my bed and my dick breathed a sigh of relief. Fucking a woman who squirts tends to mess with her natural lubricant and any artificial lubricant that you might use. It’s sort of like fucking in a pool or a hot tub but without the excitement of those particular water environments. There’s been times in my life where instead of premature ejaculation, I would have to worry about not coming. Having a woman squirt and shake and rattle and roll fucks up the rhythm and it can fuck up the sensitivity, at least for my cock, and then me coming is pretty much not going to happen.

It wasn’t until 2019 that I encountered another squirter, or at least one who squirted regularly. She loved what I could do to her body and I guess that our parts lined up perfectly to get her to squirt from penetration. Same thing happened as before. Soaked sheets, soaked towels, soaked mattress. Same loss of sensitivity and lack of ejaculations for me as well.

Now when I meet a woman who claims that she’s a “squirter,” I take pause. Do I really want to go through the mess and hassle of that again? Now I would be inclined to want to sleep with her at her own place or maybe a hotel/motel or something. That way I don’t have to clean up the mess and air shit out, that’s someone else’s problem.

The guy in the screen shot is naive or is a rank amateur at best. Saying that the female orgasm is a myth is false. Never mind squirting, which is another phenomenon altogether, but I have felt women orgasm. I’ve felt it on my hands, my face, and on my cock. I think it would be extremely hard to fake an actual orgasm. The throbbing and pulsing isn’t something that I think you can control. A woman may fake groans, moans, and even thrashing around, but that throb that happens inside her body? I don’t think she could fake that.

The look of ecstasy and longing in her eyes, the smile on her face, and at least in my experience, the giggling and laughing that usually accompany an orgasm is pretty hard to fake as well.

The female orgasm isn’t a myth, it’s real. So is squirting. Be careful who you listen to and what you read. There’s a lot of nonsense and bullshit out there.

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