State Sponsored

Probably an understatement to say we all have people we wish we didn’t know. I’m also probably not alone when I say one of those people for me is also someone I wish didn’t stick my dick in. No, she didn’t get pregnant. I’m just in a position to keep hearing current info about her that disgusts me to that extent.

The reason why it’s worth mentioning is its an example of how a mother (using that term loosely) can jump back on the carousel full tilt. I normally don’t really care if that’s how a woman chooses to spend her 20’s and beyond and then complains later; I mean really America is full of people whining about one thing or another. And if you’re not one of “them” then what you whine about is “them” thus making you one of “them”. Just a vicious circle.

When I met her the disguise she was wearing was that of a relatively stable young single mother. That doesn’t matter too much to me because I’m not looking for a replacement mother of my children, a wife, or anything that requires any homemaker qualities. So even if most of that was untrue, not a big deal. However, being a father, it was the basis for part of our initial connection. Things broke apart eventually as was inevitable.

Normally in these situations we would go our very different ways and I wouldn’t really ever have to think of her again. The way in which I met her isn’t the typical one though. I met her through another woman, one I actually do care about. They had been friends for somewhere around a decade, considered each other like family. The events that transpired between all of us changed that somewhat, but that’s a different story.

So remaining somewhat associated with her by proxy I was present when the court ruled that her children be taken from her. This wasn’t something that surprised me for a few different reasons. How she handled it after the fact was what did. Of course she was emotional and I expected she would probably drink a bit and make a few bad decisions, but I also expected after hitting rock bottom for a short period she would do what ever she needed to get her kids back. Instead she hit rock bottom and decided she kind of liked it there.

Court dates came and went, passing by like meaningless foreign holidays. She might have seen them on the calendar, but it was just a minor distraction. She comforted herself by deciding they were “lost causes anyway”. She busied herself by pursuing an endless stream of random cock and whoring herself for money and merchandise.

There’s no real ending to this story. She was approached again about regaining custody and she said she has no interest. The state has given her another chance at an unburdened life and she has embraced it wholeheartedly. The state still even partially supports her. So if you pay taxes, congratulations you’re subsidizing her and her kids. Separately. It’s a sad story and my part in it is small, but it serves as a reminder to me how much a person’s true nature can be hidden. It’s a twisted reality.

The First Time I Cheated

Alright, time to get personal with a tale from my past. NSFW perhaps, depending on how closely someone is reading over your shoulder.

It was the summer before my senior year of high school and I had been dating my girlfriend for about a year and a half. Yeah, I was that guy with the long term girlfriend in high school. Spent a year thankful just to be getting pussy at all. As I’m sure you all know that feeling only lasts so long.

The relationship was of the semi-long distance variety. She lived a town away and we mostly saw each other on the weekends. There were pros and cons, but for the most part that old saying rang true: distance makes the heart grow fonder. And hornier. As intense as those weekends could be, a young man can’t help but wonder what he can get away with in that time in between. I soon found out that it was quite a lot.

Being somewhat shy, possessing little self confidence, and no game (oblivious to that really), but industrious nonetheless I turned, of course, to the Internet. I don’t remember how long it to took me to find it, most Internet excursions quickly turned into looking at porn and vigorous masturbation, so productivity was low. But eventually I stumbled upon a certain site at which adults can find friends.

The problem with this you would think is that I wasn’t yet an adult. Minor hiccup for the determined deviant, just select one more year down on that drop down box and I was good to go. As soon as I signed up I knew I had found something special. It was like being eight in Toys R Us, looking at all shiny toys that you could possibly want, but couldn’t possibly afford.

Here’s my first real bold move: in the dark of night with the rest of the family soundly sleeping I stealthily started breaking laws. I stole my mother’s credit card, copied the info just as quick as could be, and slipped it back with no one the wiser. The fact that my parents remained none the wiser perhaps says something about their fiscal diligence.

Now, stolen credit card info in hand, my hand shook slightly as I entered it all and clicked “Submit”, unlocking the gates to unlimited casual sex with all the women I could possibly want. Only it wasn’t quite like that. There were women, some even attractive, but mostly it was a big cockfest. It served to truly shatter the idealism of a young man in regards to finding strange on the Internet.

Of course a few hundred pics of cocks randomly appearing on my big CRT monitor wasn’t enough to dissuade. Neither was the lack of responses from what I hoped were real females; I was determined. The real problem was that of all the women on there that actually were looking for quick cock, few were looking for “18 year old” cock. But I kept casting my line and eventually I got a bite.

My heart was pounding as I read her message that contained her Yahoo Messenger info. The elapsed time of her sending that message and me sending her one back in Yahoo was probably somewhere around 2.42 seconds, give or take a millisecond. I may have come off as slightly eager.

She was 23, experienced, and… married. I expressed to her how this (ironically) clashed with my morality, trying for some reason to come off as the valiant type. She assured me that he knew she did this and was completely on board and okay with it. He just thought of sport fucking young cocks as a harmless hobby. Sounded completely logical. After maybe fifteen minutes of anxious conversation she asked if I wanted to meet, just to see if we click at all.

“Byemomheadedtothegasstationbebackinabit,” I yelled as I ran out the door. I did walk to the gas station. The time was probably around 2:30 or so in the afternoon when her Jeep Cherokee swung into parking lot. I looked around nervously like I had an FBI tail or the mob after me as I got in and we took off. The small talk in the Jeep was excruciatingly awkward, but when I found out the drive to her place was only about seven minutes I would have given anything for it to be just ten minutes longer. I followed her in, thinking I must have lost my mind.

Once inside she had her prey trapped, and she didn’t waste time taking me down. Well, actually she went down. I immediately knew she was special at that moment. As I stood there in her living room appreciating that quality, I also began appreciating the giant broadsword on the wall, and the guns on the other wall, and the ammo on the table. Suddenly I wasn’t feeling as good. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing with that shit,” she assured me.

Somehow we ended up in her bedroom. To this day I don’t remember walking back there, but there we were. Room was a mess, and no sheets on the bed. I threw her on it anyway. Condom? What are those? My mind was no longer in control and everything was instinct. As I railed her against the mattress my unused mind actually began to wander. She’s so so wet, I thought to myself, thankful because it was helping me last so long. I felt like a porn star.

That feeling dissipated somewhat when after blowing my young unprotected load I stood up to see a filthy puddle of fresh blood more than a foot in diameter staining the mattress. I laughed, I didn’t care, felt like I had really slain that snatch.

Of course her reaction was a bit different. Her panic was immediate and intense. Perhaps her husband wasn’t quite on board with her activities? I never found out what happened with that mattress.

Not that I stopped fucking her. I began sneaking out mosts nights after everyone was asleep. She would pick me up at the end of the drive and into the night we’d go, parking random desolate places where I received a more practical sexual education. The first time she swallowed a load she said it was like a “warm Thanksgiving turkey dinner in her belly.”

I never did tell her my real age. See, it can happen to them too! After a few weeks my girlfriend decided to move to my town, and there the fun ends. For awhile, at least…

The Path

My path to finding the manosphere, learning about red pill wisdom, and even thinking about writing this is an obscure one. I wasn’t looking for pick up advice or how to meet women. Actually the beginning for me was at a lifting forum I’ve read for the last couple years: IronAddicts. IronAddicts is a wealth of information on nearly anything related to lifting and fitness. There I stumbled upon Kabuki Warrior, the blog of one of the forum’s moderators.

The first post I read was a review of Jack Donovan’s “The Way of Men”. The next thing I did after reading that review was buy and read that book. I’m sure I finished it within 24 hours of purchase, and my eyes were opening. More like my lungs were opening and I was breathing for the first time. The reference is tired, but true: like Neo I had known something was off about the world that was presented to me, but I couldn’t place my finger on it. In his related writing “No Man’s Land” Donovan references Roissy; and down the rabbit hole I go.

That was a mere five months ago, but in that time I’ve consumed the content from the writers on my blog roll like an overweight traveler masticating her Cinnabon. I can honestly say I have learned a lot. I also have more fully realized things I already seemed to know, which is the most resonating form of wisdom.

Coming in later to the party and having so much content in front of me makes me look at the bigger picture of it. What really stands out to me is the tone in the writing. The word “patriarchy” is thrown around a lot in the manosphere and I find that very apt. The writers worth reading encourage, teach, and forewarn, just as a good patriarch should. They certainly aren’t without negativity, nor should they be, but it is tempered by patriarchal value.

Reading and learning so much I’ve reached a point where I like I can’t not start writing myself. Not to say I’m done learning from others, but I’ll be doing it while carving my own path.