The Game Never Ends

I hate to break the news, but based on observations of my friends in their mid to late 70s, one is never so old that “game” is unnecessary.

Let me explain… I discussed this couple a few weeks back here. Let’s call them Dick and Jane, after the popular learn to read books of their era.

Well Dick is getting back surgery, and for the past few weeks he’s subtly been testing Jane to see if he can count on her.

Dick usually drives when they go out on dates, and Jane can at times get pretty tipsy. Dick is usually really good about patiently steadying her and getting her to the car and home safely.

A few weeks ago Dick told Jane she needed to dial it back a bit, not get so tipsy. Well typical of a woman today, her response was, “You can’t tell me what to do!”

Rather than listen, Jane started acting like a bratty rebellious teenager. Dick warned her once, then started abruptly getting up, informing her it was time to go, and unceremoniously dropping her off at home to think about it. Last weekend he showed up, no Jane. She hadn’t listened, and so rather than invite her along, he left her to cool her heels.

On Sunday Dick shows up, but no Jane. So of course I ask, and he says they had gone to the Lodge the night before. When he told Jane it was time to go, she told him to go ahead, she’d find her own ride home! And so he did.

As he was telling the tale, his phone rang. Jane. He didn’t pick up.

For days he did the same. No answer.

So I ask him about his upcoming surgery in two days, and if he had a ride. When he said no, he’d drive himself, I said, “Poppycock, that’s nonsense. I will drive you. And I want you to stay at my house a day or two after, as well. So I don’t worry.”

“M’kay,” he said with a little grin.

So the girls and I made up a cozy single bed in the living room, near the bathroom, no need to climb stairs, complete with ultra soft pillows and nice fluffy blankets. I added a cart with rollers so he can easily get to things, and the girls added finishing touches with a lamp, clock, and plant. I resisted adding a teddy bear, thinking that was probably too much.

Last night I send Jane a text. “How are you? What’s up with you and Dick?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “I hear you are taking him to the hospital in the morning.”

“Yes,” I replied. “Let’s talk in the morning.”

She called this morning first thing. And guess who got up at the crack of dawn and drove to Dick’s? Yep. Jane. She was calling from his place.

“Do you want us to pick you up,” she asked?

“Sure,” I said. And so we all rode together, and all seems well. I am unsure if Dick will be recovering at my place but if so, we’re ready!

Jane is with him now, as he changes into his hospital gown and they prep him for surgery.  I pray his room will be filled with angels and that all goes smoothly and the surgery brings him relief from the constant pain. (Please feel free to pray for him, too!)

I guess awalt, no matter how old they get. And that dread works at any age, too!

I plan to have a talk with Jane when I get a chance, to explain the test and how she failed it, and hopefully she’ll do different next time!

A Visit from Hercules


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Hercules stopped by on Saturday with his new girlfriend and his roommate.

His girlfriend is what I would expect, young, blonde, petite, attractive, not very bright, and hanging on his every word.

His roommate was a very nice guy, not flashy, very average, well spoken, and friendly. The roommate drove a cherry 1969 Nova (SS, no less!) , while Hercules and his gal pal drove the roommate’s man cave of a truck.

We chit chatted a bit, caught up on the latest. All very friendly like.

Then, the room cleared out suddenly and Hercules got down to business.

“You got a boyfriend?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Yeah but it’s some long distance thing, right?”

“Yes,” I said. “And it’s going great.”

“Why don’t you come back to our place? My roommate is single and he wants you to come hang out.”

“Sorry,” I said. “Your roommate seems great, it’s nothing personal, but I am in a relationship.”

“Perfect. He doesn’t want anything serious, anyway. Plus, he’s loaded.”

I rolled my eyes. “You are missing the point Hercules.”

“Fine. Be that way.”

They discussed coming by the next day to help with a little project, and off they went.

Ten minutes later I get a text.

“My roommate wants you to come over and party.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I am going to stay home tonight, not feeling well. See you in the morning.”

“Oh geez.”

I call my boyfriend, and then watched a movie. Ahhhh… alone time!

Now, I easily could have gone. But why? Plus, I’d be an idiot to ruin the good thing I’ve got.

The next day they show up, just Hercules and his lady and we get the project done quickly.

I talk more with his lady, learn she is best friends with Hercules’s sister Venus, who I adore. (Venus easily could have been Playmate of the year had she wanted to.) Venus once said to me, “Nobody should ever date any of my brothers. They are all pigs!” So I figure the girlfriend has been told what she’s getting into. Maybe if so, it can work. We’ll see…

Then he notices my new riding lawnmower, and my now spare older one and offers to make a trade, some physical work needing done in exchange for the old mower.

“Sounds good, but I need to run it by my boyfriend first,” I say.

“Oh geez. Just tell him the thing disappeared.”

“Sorry,” I say. “That’s not the way things work.”

Off they go. I fill my guy in on all this, and he approves the trade.

Anyway, not sure there’s a point to this except I found it all pretty entertaining.

Start Where You Are


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If there is something you would like to change about your life, here’s a tip: start where you are, and start right now.

I know many people who want their life to be different, yet they are waiting. Waiting for the right time, waiting for enough money, waiting until they have x, y, or z.

Maybe they want to lose weight or live healthier, maybe they want a different job or career, maybe they want to find a relationship, or fix a relationship, etc.

They want it, but they’re waiting…

My advice? Start right now, today, in whatever way they can, no matter how small. Every journey begins with the first step. And doing 10% to get there will still get you there faster than waiting to do anything.

It’s your life. You are the artist. Nobody can craft the masterpiece but you!

You might make mistakes. You might not know exactly how to do it. You may have other limitations. It’s OK. But still no reason to delay. Start where you are — it’s the only way to get there!

Whats something you’d like to be different? Please share in the comments!



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Happiness is an inside job.

Yep! So if you are unhappy, stop blaming others and start looking within.

So many people look to their partner or future idealized partner to “make them happy.” But guess what? They can’t. And it’s not even healthy to expect them to.

So while it’s seemingly easier to credit or blame others for your happiness level, the very good thing about looking within for happiness is that you realize while others can’t make you happy, you’ll find they can no longer take it away, either.

What do you think? Please share in the comments!

Beware “Friendly” Advice


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Prior to the red pill, I would listen to advice from friends that I now can see was anything but “friendly” advice. Not that they meant to give me bad advice on purpose, I am sure, but in the end it was bad advice no matter what the intent. It’s something to be on guard against in your own life, too.

Well meaning blue pill people often give absolutely horrible advice, especially when it comes to relationships. I was more often encouraged to leave my marriage than to work on it, was told behavior was abusive and controlling when in retrospect I can now see that it was not, that being divorced would not be so bad, that when things weren’t easy it was better to just start over, and other complete nonsense.

As I touched on in my last post, even today people are all too eager to spout the blue pill party line at me, under the guise of  “friendly” advice. I am sure such people may mean well, but are blind themselves to just how brainwashed they are to see everything as abuse, control, and a red flag.

These days I am very careful who I take advice from. Unless they themselves are in a healthy, happy, functional relationship, I choose to say, “thanks but no thanks.” Because if they aren’t living it themselves, how could they possibly give good advice?

Likewise, beware the “hen sessions” made up of girls complaining about their lives and relationships. Such discussions will only leave you feeling dissatisfied, when in reality you are maybe just absorbing the toxic spew of others. Sadly, in my experience, church bible study groups often devolved into little more than a gripe session, and were often the worst.

Thank to the red pill, I am no longer buying such advice and my life is much better off for it!

What do you think? Have you ever been the victim of bad “friendly” advice?



It’s a Red Flag!!!


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Along the lines of the previous “red pill truths/blue pill lies” post, I had an interesting moment the other day.

Myself and some volunteer and paid crew were setting up for the day ahead. We had hours of work to do, and not a lot of spare time to waste.

Anyway, in the midst of this somehow someone brought up a friend of a friend who used to be in a well known band, but who like many in that situation, lost it all to sex, drugs, and rock and roll living and landed himself in jail. Well he just got out of prison and is looking for work.

My friend who was working here and knows him suggested, “Wouldn’t it be perfect for him to come and help out around here? He’s so talented!”

I replied, “I don’t doubt he is talented but my current squeeze has already said, “No.”

Rather than that being the end of that, my friend and a blue pill male volunteer jumped right on it — “That’s a red flag! He’s trying to control you! Who is he to say who can and can’t be here?” they howled.

I was already annoyed because we were behind schedule, so I just said at that time, “You know what guys, we’re not having this conversation. The guy is not working here, or even coming here, end of.”

I don’t think I was too popular at that moment but just one of the many things I have learned from the red pill is to not listen to such garbage scare tactics, or to fall into those types of no win debates.

(Background, the gal is an attractive but headed for the wall 45-year-old anxiety ridden hot mess (financially and otherwise) who seems to have a crush on the musician and the volunteer is a blue pill guy friend who has a thing for hot messes, so he was likely trying to show just how great, sensitive, evolved, and non-oppressive of a guy he was!)

Later, once the successful event was over, I followed up on the conversation with both and explained my other half wasn’t trying to be controlling, he was trying to help me avoid a common weakness of mine, which is to feel bad for people and to try to save them when really they need to save themselves, just the same as I do, or any adult does.

I explained further that he felt having an unknown ex-con, recovering heroin addict around may not be the best choice for my business, or (even more impt.) my kids. There is just too much potential downside and really not all that much upside.

His were not the words of an oppressive, abusive brute who is just trying to isolate me. They are the wise words and reasoning of someone who is trying to look out for me and my kids, someone who wants to help guide and protect us from needless suffering and mistakes.

Perhaps it was the curt way I said it the first time, when I was thinking to myself, “less talk, more work, people!” but both admitted after I explained the above that it actually was sound, good advice.

And it is advice I am going to take, because the guy who gave it to me has stood the test of time. He has looked out for me. The times I have not listened to his advice, I found out later that he had been right. The guy is one of the smartest people I have ever met. Why would I *NOT* listen to him?

Actually, it’s the first relationship in my life where I have had someone really like me for who I am (even my imperfections) and it is the least drama, least controlling, least problem relationship I have ever had! Amen! Finally!

They may not get it, but he’s my chosen Captain and I am happy to take his direction because I know he’s got this! Anyone who thinks I am going to side with them against the Captain is going to have to walk the plank, because around here, mutiny is not an option!

What do you think? Please share in the comments.

Thoughts on Brangelina


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Regular commenter Fuzzie got me thinking when he said:

Something about what Ame said bothered me and I can’t get to the bottom of it. One thing that has bubbled to the surface is that men are in no position to control or affect what goes on in a woman’s head. That goes further to explain why Angelina Jolie could dump Brad Pitt than red pill wisdom.

I am not much of a pop culture person, but it’s hard to ignore when the latest is continually on the cover of tabloids as I stand in line at the grocery store.

First off, let’s look at the body language:


In the photo with Jennifer, it’s clear who runs the show, and her emotions. He’s the one being adored, she’s doing the adoring. I bet she’s thinking, “Wow, I am the luckiest girl alive!” Note his devilish, “You know it!” demeanor. Alpha.

Now look at the image with Angelina. Who holds the cards here? She’s the eternal standoffish ice princess, and he looks worried and drained, somehow not pleasing her right or enough. See how his body language has transformed? Fear of loss. Beta.

Now these are just two photos but if one was to do a Google search, they are pretty representative.

At the time Brad and Angelina denied an affair, but years later they admitted it was hanky panky on the set of the movie, Mr. and Mrs. Smith that started it all. Soon he left Jennifer utterly publicallyly humiliated, and then flaunted his new love. Soul mates, blah, blah, blah.

Then came the kids, in rapid succession. Both adopted and bio, the brood grew quickly and now Brad was in deep.

Angelina said in an interview how when their first bio child was born, a daughter, she couldn’t help but be appalled at her “privilege.” What an odd thing to say? That and the child has had her hair cut and has been dressed as a boy for long before it was likely the child’s choice. Odd.

Brad started to look more and more panicked as the years went on, and I could understand why. Angelina seemed to firmly run that show, Brad a mere appendage.

Their relationship broke many social norms at the time, and singlehandedly likely did more to move disposible commitments and children out of wedlock/babymommaism into the mainstream culture than anything ever had before. And it was all done so boldly, with no shame.

I imagine in time the truth behind the fairy tale love story act will come out. Perhaps in the form of a tell all book by one of the kids. But my guess is it won’t be good.

And despite all the proclamations that this was good progress, social norms best shattered in this modern age, guess what? It failed. Miserably. And with a nasty custody fight, complete with allegations that he was an abusive out of control brute.

It’s a good example of the difference in the relationship dynamics when he runs it versus when she does.

Moral of the story? Never stick your dick in crazy.

What do you think? Please share in the comments!

Zeus Sighting


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The other day I went along to a doctors appointment with a friend who is 76 and his girlfriend. He’s one of my favorite customers and was getting checked out to see if he was fit for back surgery.

These two make a striking couple even at their age, and I would love to see photos of them both from their youth. I imagine he likely looked like a taller version of James Dean and she like Marilyn Monroe.

The doctor was a beautiful Ukrainian gal, young, and I think she was quite intrigued when my friend introduced us as his wife (me) and girlfriend! He was joking about the wife part but I believe I saw the power of preselection in action because soon the doctor seemed to be crushing on him!

After we left I joked that the doctor was in love, and to that he replied, “I wouldn’t mind being married to a doctor.” Lol. Our brief sham marriage was over, just like that! Who says only women are hypergamus?

Well his appointment revealed that thanks to a lifetime of smoking, surgery might be risky, so now he’s scheduled to see three more experts to find out. The news made us all a bit sad so we went to the local Moose lodge to have a drink and ponder our mortality.

Not long after, in walks Zeus (Vixen’s former father in law.) He sat down with us and by golly my friend’s girlfriend starts batting her eyes and twirling her hair right away! Shameless.

Such is the power of an Alpha, even at the age of 78. My friend, a natural himself, could not outshine a man who has been working the ladies and loving the game his whole life. I am pretty sure had he asked, my friend’s girlfriend would have run off with him on the spot!

When I say my friend is a natural, I am not kidding. He dated my aunt back in high school, and my mom says he was the most eligible bachelor in the county back then. He says when he was 13, his mom had to start chasing the cars filled with 16+ year old teenage girls away!

But even so, he was no match for Zeus, who though older seemed 20 years younger in comparison. Everyone from the girlfriend to the waitress were tripping over themselves to catch his eye. The natural took it in stride and didn’t seem bothered by any of it a bit. Perhaps he was lost in his own thoughts about the hot doctor!

I simply sat back, watched the show, sipped my White Russian, and wondered what I would be like at their ages!

It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time…


Once again, I have gotten myself into a predicament. This time it was deciding to get eight Cornish cross chicks this spring.

For those who don’t know, Cornish cross are chickens, the type grown for meat, not eggs. They grow freakishly fast, in a commercial farm they are butchered at eight weeks. The chicken you buy at the store is this type, btw.

So I thought why not get some and raise my own free range meat, right? And now, they are twelve weeks old.

Perfect, right? Not exactly…

Well for one thing, they are darling. They run like fat little dinosaurs across the yard, following me like pet dogs.

For another thing I am missing something critical, and that is someone willing to kill them for me. :/

I may end up with 20 pound chickens who are so fat they can’t walk if I don’t figure something out soon…

Turns out I am more of a gatherer than a hunter.

Chicken dinner, anyone?