A Red Pill Lens

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Yesterday an old friend from college stopped by with his new girlfriend (she also went to college with us, but I don’t remember her.) As she and I talked, I was amazed at how red pill aware she was, although I doubt she frequents these parts. She understood many of the concepts, and was tuned into how feminism has gone far beyond its original intent. And the destruction it had caused for men.

As she went on and on about such things I wondered, “How did she learn all this in the mainstream?”

A little while later she revealed she’d been an exotic dancer up until four years ago. Ah ha! Then it all made sense. She’s worked for years in a profession that had laid bare, no pun intended, the dynamics between the genders.

From reading blogs written by professional dancers, escorts, and courtesans, I have learned such women often understand men, and things from a man’s point of view, better than most.

My friend was clearly uncomfortable about his date’s candor. And he was also getting annoyed at her crass behavior (she could up her ladylike game.) I doubt they will be together long term, but it was interesting to meet her.

Funny had she not said so, I never would have suspected what her former “250k a year job” was. And I’d be curious how and why she decided to hang up the stilettos. Perhaps we’ll get to that part next time?

Life sure is a colorful cast of characters!

A Young Gal’s Folly

Yesterday at work, I was visiting with three other gals, one a co-worker and two customers. And I had an insight.

The four of us spanned two decades, the youngest was 33, the oldest 53. In between were my co-worker at 36 and myself at 46.

We weren’t talking about anything particularly heavy, just chit chat about fashion, trends, makeup, and the like. But as we talked, something dawned on me — the one doing most of the talking, in fact talking over the rest, was the 33-year-old. She seemed to think she knew it all, cutting the rest of us off mid sentence without a thought.

Of the four of us she was the least physically fit, and not to be mean, but the least attractive. Frumpy would be how I would describe her. What a shame, I thought, as I noticed despite her being the youngest chronolically, she was likely the oldest in “real age.” She was unmarried, but sadly already matronly.

The 53-year-old was sporty and athletic, with that naturally muscular and lean look of a runner. A mother of three boys, she was active and it showed. She was well put together, tasteful and age appropriate, but not at all over the hill. For her age, I’d say she’s likely in the top 20 percent. She revealed that every year since she was young, she takes a photo on her birthday in a bikini to document for herself her life. Interesting!

I could work on building muscle, and know I need to do so if I want to be healthy in my golden years, and I could eat better too, but thanks to my own labor intense work and inability to be still for long, I am more fit than most my age, and at most 5-8 pounds from ideal. I am naturally curvy and feminine, hourglass, and I try to dress in a way to accent that. I am a tomboy, not afraid to dig in the dirt, but I can also spiff it up and carry off pearls and lace.

The 36-year-old is fit and is always well put together and professional. Despite three children she shows no signs of hitting the wall. She recently remarried to a very attractive man — aged 24! And they seem very happy. I can already see them with grey hair, holding hands, still in love.

And then the 33-year-old. Soft, but in a not good way. Probably 15-20 pounds overweight. She wore her hair long, but it was unstyled and hung unattractively around her face. Her clothes were ill fitting, not flattering to her pear shape. She bragged about almost never wearing makeup.

She reminded me of myself at her age even, downplaying her looks and dressing androgenously in order to, “not be a sex object, but to be taken seriously.” Like her, I too used to believe I knew it all, only to discover with age I knew a lot less than I thought. I talked a lot more than I listened.

It’s the folly of many a young woman today, dressing down in youth and talking over those she could be learning from. What a shame.

One by one we all stopped trying to add to the conversation, and soon she had the floor, yapping about fashion and style as if she were the authority.

Young ladies, if I could give you some advice? It’s no crime to be pretty, and look your best. It’s much easier in youth than it will ever be, so why wait? Take care of yourself and your body. It will pay off for decades. And listen more than you talk. Consider that others with more experience might be happy to help you avoid the many pitfalls in life, if you will only listen.

Let those who have ears hear!

But Guys Don’t Like It

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A colleague and I were talking yesterday, and among other things she was going on and on with pride about how all her friends say they love how she’s so bold, and sassy, and speaks her mind.

After she finally finished, I simply replied, “Yeah, but guys don’t like it.”

The look of shock on her face was priceless, and the idea that her behavior was working against her with men was obviously something she had never considered.

Finally, she stuttered something about how no guy had ever said anything like that. A brave man in the midst offered, “Why would they when they could just withdraw?”

And then the pink elephant in the room was suddenly highly visible. Because what does this gal complain about most in her marriage? That her husband is “checked out.” Yep.

Cause and effect. Put them together, sista!

Let those who have ears hear.

 

Teachable Moments for Teens

Yesterday I had a big project to get done before this weekend, so I hired two teenage boys to help.

The contrast between the two is striking. While one is a go getter with a strong work ethic, the other is not so much. The one not so much is a friend’s son, the go getter is his friend he recommended. Both have worked for me before, but this was their first time working together.

I had a meeting to go to, so I made up a to do list, gave them some marching orders, and went. Having been a teen myself, I worried about leaving them unsupervised but hoped the go getter would lead the way.

When I returned three hours later, my heart sank. The biggest project I had asked them to start with, clearing a main corner of tall grass and weeds, looked no different. When I left they had been heading toward it with weed whackers going. Not good.

I found the two boys taking a break. “Lets see what you guys got done,” I said. “Walk me through it.”

After them showing me two smaller projects that I estimate would have taken them an hour, hour and a half tops, I looked them both in the eye and asked, “Ok guys, did you work as hard and diligently as you could while I was away?”

My friends son replied without hesitation, “Absolutely!” The other boy looked uncomfortable, then looked away.

“Ok,” I said. “Because remember that list? Whatever you two don’t get done today, I will somehow have to do it.” And I started giving direction, putting one on one task, the other on another.

The go getter busted it out, making up for lost time. The other, not so much.

My friend was here, and I could tell she didn’t want me to correct her son. She did not correct him either. Instead she started doing what I had asked him to do, completing the work for him. Then I saw perhaps how he’d developed his nonchalant view of responsibility. It’s too bad.

I can predict already which one will never want for a job, and which one will have trouble keeping one. I also know which one I will be asking to come back, and which one I won’t.

I shared the tale with my older daughter, not one for physical labor herself. She surprised me by finding things to do, and jumping on them! Yay!

Don’t coddle your kids. It ends up working against them.

Let those who have ears hear.

Be a Better Woman

When I look around at many of the female leaders or celebrities today, despite all the “advances” in women’s rights, education, and entry into the public sphere, they still somehow seem so much less than women from 100+ years ago.

What would our great or great-great grandmothers think of their selfies, social media posturing, cries of victim hood, unhinged rants in public, and so on? What would a woman on the frontier think, for example?

Would Ashley Judd’s speech at the women’s march seem self indulgent to a woman who had babies minus hospitals or doctors, who raised and preserved all her own and her family’s food, who lived without electricity or running water but did laundry and cooking anyway, who made all the clothing, and provided the family and livestock with medical care, a woman much too busy occupied with her family’s survival and well being to be self indulgent.

With all the things we women have today that she could only have dreamed of, I ask — can we be better women? Women that woman would celebrate and respect? Women who are thankful for the easy life they enjoy today, built upon the hardworking women of the generations before? Women worthy of that?

Certainly it is possible to rise and soar rather than to whine and complain, or be foul and base and loose, always wanting more, more, more while giving back less and less?

Be better. A worthy life goal. Do it for her. Do it for the women to come. It’s as simple and complicated as that.

Let those who have ears hear.

A Happy Ending

I have a friend we’ll call Otter who proves it’s never too late to find one’s place in the world or life purpose.

Otter, in his mid 40s, is very intelligent but because of dyslexia, was never one for book learning. Most of his life he’s gotten by working low pay, manual labor jobs. Otter is the guy I call when I need some holes dug, rocks moved, or things built that aren’t too complex but have an artistic flair.

Otter reminds me of a character right out of a hobbit tale. He loves mud, and streams, beaver sticks, and living a simple life. He never has much money but he doesn’t need much money, so it all works out.

Otter is likely what they call a sigma in the red pill world. He just does his own thing his own way, desiring to be neither an Alpha leader nor a beta provider. He’s rarely in the company of women, but when he is they are always unusually beautiful considering his own odd appearance, and even when the relationships run their course they remain friends. He’s very in touch with his emotions, and can dive right in and carry on conversations just like a girl.

Otter lives in the house where he grew up and takes care of his elderly widowed mom. He does odd jobs around the neighborhood when he needs spending money, which so far has worked out for him. He has worked as a security guard and other jobs in the past when he was living on his own, but since his dad passed and he moved back home, he’s prefered to work part time, here and there.

About four to six months ago, Otter started talking about a man he met who did chainsaw art. Otter was intrigued, so he started hanging about, offering labor in exchange for learning the basics. Soon it was harder to get Otter out to do an odd job, because he was so busy at the studio.

The man he’s working with is a jolly and positive older man with an infectious energy. Otters own father was a drinker who never really had time for Otter, so while his parents were married for life, Otter is more like a guy raised by a single mom than not. He prefers to use hand tools over power, as I don’t think he ever had a guy show him how. I get the feeling that’s all changed now, as it seems he’s running all sorts of woodworking tools now, under the patient guidance of his new boss, who has become somewhat of a father figure to him.

I haven’t seen him for a few months but then he surfaced, with some of the most amazing photos of the things he’s been up to. It would not be doing it justice to call it chainsaw art, it’s truly on the sculpture fine art scale, and I can tell Otter is absolutely loving every minute of it! Owls, bears, dragons, fish, benches, totem poles, and more, he’s making them all.

The guy who never seemed to really fit in has found his place at last, and his work is selling for $2,000 or more a piece before he even has them finished. He’s already better at it than people who have been doing it for years, I can only imagine how far he will go with it.

It makes me so happy to see Otter so happy! Sometimes, ya win one if you just keep poking along until you find your niche!

Let those who have ears hear.

Boyfriends Who Abuse Kids – A Rant

It’s been awhile since I have written about Red, as I have not seen him in nearly a year.

As some of you may recall, I knew him and his wife and their two adorable kids through Rotary, and watched in horror when she heartlessly kicked Red to the curb, then (no surprise to me, who had taken the red pill already) announced two weeks later that she was in love with her new fitness coach.

Sadly, she’s likely a narcissist, as she immediately went into “destroy Red” mode to cover her tracks, convincing everyone (except me) she was the victim. Amazingly (or maybe not in a culture where such claims from a woman are accepted without question) most in our community supported her “bravery” and shunned Red.

I befriended him through those rough days because he certainly needed some support. It was terrible to watch how selfishly and callously she blew up her family with no regrets. Sick.

Within months the boyfriend moved in to the home she and Red had shared. Red reacted not unpredictably by coping with it all by drinking more and more over that first year, which sadly only made it easier for her to paint him the bad guy, while she manipulated him in his vulnerable state into signing divorce papers without a fight that gave her everything, and left Red with almost no say or time with his kids and little more than the shirt on his back.

She’s very well connected and soon the local policeman was tailing Red every time he came to town. It wasn’t long before he was pulled over, narrowly failed a breathalyzer, lost his job as a result, and was in a heap of trouble. For awhile he was living in this SUV. It was grim.

I shared his story with my red pill guy, who without hesitation saw what Red needed, hired him a lawyer, helped him get on his feet, and started calling Red regular to give him red pill advice and mentoring. Red found a new job, and as the universe would have it his new boss had been frivorced himself, and also took Red under his wing. With the help of these two men he got back up, got an apartment, and started putting his life back together again.

On weekends when he had the kids he would drop by, and I grew very fond of his gangly 11 year old son and adorable 8 year old daughter. They liked me too, and looked forward to visiting. But over time I noticed a change in them, the light slipping out of their eyes.

Then one day over dinner it came out. The fitness trainer boyfriend (a former Marine with PTSD) was not the great guy Red’s ex led everyone to believe in her fawning “soul mate” Facebook posts.

The son started to describe the walking on eggshells environment at home. Turns out this boyfriend runs it like a military internment camp, complete with psyops and regular random terror.

As the brother talked, his sister sat there rocking, sucking her thumb, looking scared out of her mind. Then she quietly said, “He spanks his girls (6 and 8) with a belt — with the buckle end.” And apparently he made everyone watch.

I warned Red I felt his children were in grave danger, even though so far he had not hit them, although he had started to make their mother do the spankings over minor infractions. I worried it was only a matter of time.

A few weeks later I got a call from a very distressed Red. His son had called the police, after the boyfriend disciplined him himself with the belt for the first time. Unfortunately the boyfriend and Red’s ex have that “looks good from the street” thing going, and the boyfriend convinced the police the boy was exaggerating. Red’s son was the one the police were stern with, telling him it was legal for the boyfriend to spank him, warned him to listen better and do as he was told, then left.

Red was a wreck at the news and asked me to meet him at the bar he was at. By the time I arrived he had drowned his emotions and was far too drunk to drive, so I drove him home. Things cooled down at his ex’s after the police visit, after all Red’s ex can’t have people finding out and ruin her pillar of the community image, but I worried his son would someday pay for making that call.

I am not sure why but Red reacted with helplessness, perhaps a learned helplessness from years of living with a narccist wife?

Not long after he was pulled over again, again just a tad over the limit, but enough to land him back in jail. My guy bailed him out, got him a lawyer, and we hoped for the best. Red entered a one year agreement to undergo intense counseling, regular testing for alcohol, and install a “blow and go” breathalyzer in his car in exchange for having the charge dropped from his record if he stayed on the straight and narrow, didn’t drink, and successfully completed the program.

He had meetings and counseling every morning before work and every evening after. He did little more than that and work as he once again picked up the pieces and worked to get back on track. His boss was luckily supportive, and Red began to rebuild.

I had not seen him in nearly a year when we reconnected this weekend to catch up. As we talked about how hard he had been working and how well he had been doing, his phone started blowing up with texts from his son. Not good.

Red confessed things were bad. The boyfriend now fiancée is drinking heavily, and is a mean drunk. When he’s on a bender, he’ll randomly pick one of the kids to “discipline,” often Red’s son.

The text revealed this time it was the daughter who got it, a drunken beating with the buckle end of the belt.

“What are you going to do?” I asked. Red seemed resigned, and said he hoped when the kids got older, they could move in with him. I pleaded with him not to wait, and to do all he can to gain custody and get the kids out of that mess. He said he’d think about it.

As I drove home I found myself wishing I knew somebody around here like Ton. Someone who loves and cares about kids, has good strong friends who feel the same, who could go school the boyfriend, then let him know that it would be his last warning.

But I don’t. So instead I prayed that God will surround those kids with his best archangels, protect their bodies and minds, and somehow bring the truth to light and get them to safety as soon as possible.

And then I lost it at the idea of the terror and helplessness those kids must feel. I was crying so hard I could hardly see the road.

After I collected myself, I called my guy who immediately took charge and is going to call Red and help him develop a strategy to help those kids. Thank God. Red needs some good solid man-to-man advice because the system is not stacked in Red’s favor. And if anyone can come up with a plan to help Red gain custody that will be so airtight and four steps ahead that Red’s ex and her cowardly boyfriend won’t stand a chance of stopping it, it’s him.

To men with ex’s like Red’s, please do whatever it takes to make sure your children are not in her care. And to women in a situation like his ex, if you won’t stop it and don’t want to leave fine that’s your choice, but for God’s sake do what is right for your kids and let their dad’s raise them. Because if anyone will seriously harm or even kill a child, it’s a boyfriend like that. Sadly, it happens every day.

Let those who have ears hear.

Please feel free to add Red and his kids to your prayers and to share your thoughts in the comments. Hopefully I will soon be sharing the news that the kids are out of that terrible situation and safe. Stay tuned.

(Please note, this is not about the spank or no spank debate. In my opinion hitting a child with the metal buckle end of a belt is not “spanking.”)

 

 

 

 

 

Don’t Be That Woman

In a comment, Mtgowhorseman says:

Rpg
To help women you need to get this message out.
A brilliant comment from Dalrock’s. It is THE ONLY ADVICE women need.
“Word for women who lurk: there is such a thing as “fitness testing to destruction”. You can be Little Miss Bossy long enough, loud enough, and mean enough that he just doesn’t want to be around any more. Period. The juice is not worth the squeeze. He’d done, all done with you.
That doesn’t have to mean divorce. It can just mean he checks out from the marriage, permanently. His attention is never on her, beyond the absolute minimum, he provides in a mechanical fashion as for a pet or an invalid, and spends as little time with her as possible. If you know what to look for, you can see couples like this in many, places, including churches.There is a cure but it is never applied: it requires the woman to humble herself, and far too many women prize their pride above everything else. Yes, churchgoers, everything else. To paraphrase Milton, there are women who would rather reign in a Hell of their own making than submit and gain a slice of paradise.
Don’t fool yourself with your female “always one more chance” adaptability. Women don’t close doors quite the way men do. The last minute of Gone with the Wind is worth watching, because Rhett ain’t coming back, ever. He has spoken.”

Truer words have not been said, and I have seen it in real life many times. The guy may be there physically, but emotionally he’s checked out. She’s cried wolf one too many times, and he’s gone.

Society tells women today that men want sassy, brassy, bossy women. Actually, men don’t really like that. That doesn’t have to mean women need to be doormats, but there’s often a better and a worse way to go about things.

What many men don’t realize about fitness testing, is that society has also taught them the wrong message, that the way to respond to fitness testing is to give in. “If momma ain’t happy, nobody’s happy” or “happy wife, happy life.” Such a response feeds the cycle, him submitting is not what she wants. Sometimes what women doing this really need, is for him to say, “Enough!” (Men in this situation should read this great advice here.)

However, ladies, there is a beauty also in not going there, and that is a choice you can make. Perhaps you know such a woman? Men are drawn to her, naturally wanting to please and dote on her? Not because she demands it, but because ever so sweetly and truly she doesn’t. Men can hardly wait to get home to such a woman, the opposite is true for the cranky, quarrelsome one.

Let those who have ears hear.

What do you think? Please share in the comments.

Animals Know

Anyone who wonders why the world isn’t working should really look to the animal world for some insight.

See, animals just are what they are and act like they do. They don’t fret, or overthink, or question, or ever go against their true nature. They are who they are born to be.

If one believes such things (and I do) animals are living in perfect harmony with their creator and their place in the universe. It is humans, with their knowledge from the forbidden fruit, who can’t reconcile things.

As a post at Hawaiian Libertarian so aptly said, all of this red pill/blue pill is really a battle between dark and light. It is as simple, and complex, as that.

Blue pill ideas sound good, even better than the old ways, but in reality they are the path of darkness and destruction, all wrapped up in pretty packaging that deceives.

So what side are you on, is really the question. Darkness or light? Animals know where all abundance and harmony comes from. They align with it naturally, no struggle or angst.

Who is really most intelligent? Who is Foolish?

Dont feed the beast with your actions, thoughts, or words. Cling to what is good, no matter how “out of fashion.” It will never do you wrong. It will actually save you a whole lot of pain. Let the rest chase the dark, you are missing nothing.

Let those who have ears hear.