As I previously said, I’d like this blog to become more of a community effort than ‘my’ blog. I just don’t have all that many views to share, nor do I crave the limelight. The only reason that I createdI want a masculine tone, but optimistic in outlook. I want men to take the red-pill and then decide how to take their life forward. Sometimes, however, things need to be said that aren’t up-beat. Things that address the deep feelings of many of the type of men that have found a home in the manosphere. Descriptions of the experiences of many of those here.
This post is a result of inviting a commenter on Tarn’s blog to share his story in whatever way he saw fit. Cautiously Pessimistic didn’t make a drama out of the discussion over whether one could be a MGTOW while married. As is fitting with someone who truly is a MGTOW, labeling himself wasn’t anything he felt much need to do. MGTOW isn’t a fashion label for hipsters. But it should mean something to those who adopt it. Even if it’s used to spread the good red-pill word to the blue pill guys out there. It means something to those that actually are Men Going Their Own Way. Instead of drama, Cautious calmly described his situation. As someone who had previously decried the possibility of a married MGTOW, I had to admit, by my reckoning he is one. My sympathies on that. You’ll see why I believe he has ‘earned’ the term in his own words below, many parts of his story will ring true to the guys reading this.
I haven’t touched a word of Cautiously Pessimistic’s words, they’re here in full.
Introduction ------------ So a few weeks back, Spawny offered me a platform for my story. Ah, the things we say without thinking. First, let me say up front that FY will be used in lieu of the less abbreviated term, as I'm sensitive to the various filters that litter our web access points. The term will be used copiously in a moment for reasons that should become apparent in the post. So to Spawny for offering me this microphone, FY. FY very much. (He says with love.) I'm one of nature's editors, and writing something like this is making my brain bleed. Second, let's get the elephant out of the way. People who say they are special snowflakes are irritating prima donnas that won't deal with reality and insist on reality dealing with them. That said, I'm a special snowflake. Specifically, I'm chronically depressed. "About what" misses the point. Not about anything. Or about everything. Or if you like, I'm depressed about my brain's mishandling of its serotonin levels. I was a relatively normal boy at 9 in the 70's, and a "DO NOT TOUCH UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES" switch got flipped at puberty. Life sucks, and according to the script society handed me, I should have suicided a few decades back. I didn't because FY, that's why. Contrariness is in my nature, and between that and a simmering rage, I get up EVERY DAY. I eat food EVERY DAY. I. BRUSH. MY. TEETH. EVERY! DAY! Now to keep the contrariness and rage from driving me insane, it's counterbalanced with a huge dose of humor (or smartassery, which can look similar in the right light), as well as religious conviction. I bring this up because of those sentences in the middle there. They're needlessly overwrought, and dilute what points I might eventually get around to by making me sound like a raving drama queen. But if I'm going to talk about those points I keep mentioning, I need to establish the emotional landscape they come from. Okay, but if I'm such a loser that I have to claim epic victory in not having offed myself and managing to do mundane things that most everyone does without thinking, why bother listening to anything I have to say? Glad you asked. Here are four reasons: 1. Though I am a special snowflake in real life, it seems that I'm less special in the manosphere. I'm both horrified and comforted to learn that others have had experiences similar to what I've gone through. While I have never met an INTJ in real life (to my knowledge), you can't swing a dead cat in the manosphere without hitting a few (including our host). So I'm writing this in part because I suspect what I have to say may be relevant to some of the folks reading it. Lord knows, I'm not advocating the path I took, but if you're in the middle of the dogpile and can't see your 20's or 30's, I offer solace in the form of someone in their 40's who said to the dogpile, "FY, what else you got?" 2. I offer this testimony as a reference point. You may not be on my path (and frankly, I hope you're not), but you may be able to get your bearings based, in part, on my perspective. 3. Spawny asked me to elaborate on whether married men can be MGTOW. Frankly, I don't care whether we can or not, but I'll try to elaborate my indifference. 4. Because FY, that's why. I should have died in my teens. Here I am in my 40's. To make things more difficult, on top of my little brain wiring problem, I was completely unprepared for what life threw at me. No, worse than that. I was actively sabotaged by everyone I trusted into doing exactly the wrong things when dealing with people. And FY, I dealt. Not well, not gracefully, but effectively. Because here I am. FY. (See what I mean about the raving drama queen thing? Very embarrassing.) So, that's the dealio. If none of the above interests you, You probably won't be interested in what's below. There's lots of anger, pathos and God stuff, too. Oh, right. The God stuff. If taking the God stuff seriously invalidates my opinions to you, you might want to save yourself the hassle and skip out. You don't have to have the same beliefs as me (and I'd be shocked if you did), but you do need to understand that I take them seriously. Portrait of the Beta as a Young Man ----------------------------------- Still here? You only have yourself to blame, then. Okay, I was born a relatively privileged white guy whose parents moved up from upper-lower class to middle-middle class. So I grew up with the trappings of a poor-ish lifestyle, and was then given the opportunity to appreciate the finer things in life like indoor plumbing and fake sentiment. I value that perspective, and still make a point to enjoy hot showers. I was raised by Blue Pill true believers. Imagine smarmy 70's relationship gurus with white afros, and you've got the idea. Their advice in dealing with bullies was for me to say, "Please stop doing that because it makes me feel bad," and all would be well. I learned quickly not to put their advice into practice, but this was the olden days before the internet, and I had nothing else to replace their advice with. All the books, TV Shows, magazines, and pastors/teachers were saying the same thing. I knew it didn't work, but I didn't know what else to do. The obvious strategy of beating the crap out of people was rigorously discouraged with dire consequences and brainwashing, so that left what? The strategy I settled on was adopting the persona of crazed loner who might snap at any moment. It worked somewhat, in that I'm a fairly solid guy with an INTJ death-glare, so casual bullies stayed away. Those that realized I wouldn't fight back were a problem for several years until a wrestling unit in gym allowed me to beat the ever-loving snot out of one of them, all legal-like. From that point on, they left me alone as well. Sounds like a happy ending, right? Not so fast. The bulk of my formative years were spent being tormented by bullies I wasn't allowed to touch. I was incandescent with rage by the time the issue was settled, and all that anger didn't just evaporate. Plus, being regarded as a crazed loner who might snap at any moment didn't lend itself to a well-adjusted or active social life. To make matters worse (though I didn't know it at the time) I was getting the full Blue Pill indoctrination regarding women. And I fell for it hook, line and sinker. I completely believed women were the same as men, apart from the plumbing. If I wanted to impress a girl, all I had to do was show how sensitive and understanding I was, and I was golden. And because that wasn't quite debilitating enough, I'm also a Nice Guy if I don't have my game face on. So, skip ahead to college. Things were never better. Still very bad, though. I was trying to figure out how to deal with women. Burning with desperate lust and having that rage bomb in the back of my mind didn't give me the air of breezy self-confidence needed to do well. Plus, arrogance (what we called confidence back then) was a turn off for women. Everyone said so. Including the women. They would tell you at length how annoying they found their boyfriend's cocky attitude. Um. So a few points: 1. Yeah, I was stupid. My real-world observations flew in the face of every authority figure in my life, and I chose to believe the authorities over reality. What a dumbass. Glad THAT doesn't happen anymore. 2. Two saving graces kept me out of permanent InCel isolation: First, I was pretty. Or rather, I cleaned up well. Although I was doing everything wrong, I was hawt enough to garner occasional interest. At least until I was able to show them how sensitive and caring I was and send them screaming. Second, looking back now, I imagine spending all those years being the crazed loner who might snap at any moment gave me an air of modest danger and mystery that gave them modest tingles. 3. My first girlfriend really did a number on me. I had terrible oneitis, she knew it, and kept me bouncing between LJBF and FWB. Then she started openly cheating. Fortunately, my Blue Pill training came to my rescue: I was caring, understanding, and stood there and took it. After a couple of years of this treatment, I took a deep breath, flayed a patch of skin off my forearm, permanently broke it off with her, and took up drinking. Another happy ending. So leaving college for the workaday life of an IT guy, I had some experience with women, but the only real positive (looking back) was in realizing that if it was a choice between being a beta chump and being alone, I'd rather be alone. Ironically, this realization led to an easier time with women, though none of it lasting, and most of it awkward. I was hawt, I was initially aloof, and I was still impressing the hell out of them by showing how sensitive and understanding I was. The God Stuff ------------- I was raised as a Christian. Now let me say up front that I'm not a good Christian, but I have my moments. This upbringing was at odds with the liberal bubble I was raised in; but for whatever reason, I never got the memo that I shouldn't have been taking that God stuff seriously. I expect part of that had to do with depression. Being suicidal tends to lead to a preoccupation with the metaphysical. To make a long story short (too late) by my late 20's/early 30's I had collected the following revelations. 1. I want to serve God. 2. God loves us. 3. God has a plan. I won't go into lengthy details about the whys and wherefores, as this isn't really the site for that. Suffice it to say that with those three fundamentals firmly fixed in my mind, I had a sufficient answer to my depression. Yes, I was still depressed, with all that entailed. No, I wasn't going to commit suicide. That much was settled. Further, I was not merely going to survive, but attempt to prosper. To that end, I gave up drinking and got married in my late 30's. Well, it made sense at the time. Now you Tell Me? ---------------- The marriage started going wobbly almost immediately. I knew enough to marry someone whose parents were still married, whose siblings hadn't divorced, who at least knew to say she hadn't ridden the carousel, and who didn't already have kids. However, married life just didn't seem to stabilize no matter how sensitive and understanding I was. Then her siblings started getting divorced. Despite being a dumbass, I wasn't so stupid as to not see what was coming. I started looking for anything that wasn't blue pill that could be used to recover and maintain a failing marriage. That's when I started finding voices like Dalrock, Mentu, and M3. From there, it's been a meander across the manosphere looking for bits and pieces I can use to stabilize and improve the marriage. At first, I was just studying the ideas and trying to fit them together. When my wife started talking about how she didn't want us to get divorced (Um, who said anything about divorce, dear?) I figured it was time to put what I had found so far into practice. The next time she said she didn't want us to get divorced, I threw down a divorce petition, and explained to her that if she wanted to fill it out, I'd drop it off at the courthouse and we could end it there. Otherwise, shut up about divorce. The crazed loner who might snap at any moment was dusted off and put into play. A motorcycle was bought, and a life that didn't involve her was developed. And while the marriage isn't stable, it's in better shape than before. It's not a happy marriage, but it has its moments. Okay, So What Now? ------------------ The reason I brought up the God Stuff is because that is the only motive I have for not initiating a divorce myself, what with not having kids in the mix. If I end up getting divorced anyway, I sure as hell won't get married again. Unless a man has religious convictions, he'd be a fool to get married. As for whether a married man can be MGTOW, from my perspective, he pretty much has to be if he wants to stay married. My dream of an idyllic marriage to a loving wife I can shower with affection is dead. However, I've still got a bead on keeping the marriage alive through studied indifference and animosity. And this buys me time to figure out how to improve the marriage, if possible. I'm cautiously pessimistic about my chances.
I don’t mind people discussing their religious views if they believe the discussion will be helpful. I just don’t have any. As long as it’s civil, say what you want. I have no issue with the discussions on Dalrock, for example, at all. I have read there for years, though I seldom comment. Basically, I am not the militant proselytising atheist that you seek, I just don’t believe, and I never will.