source: https://pixabay.com/en/cig-mafia-suit-2565867/

Hardcore lifting produces big muscles. You become so massive that you need to change your entire wardrobe. When you return home for the summer to see your relatives, they think you are a movie star or a stripper at the wrong address. Your mom complains to Siri: “Search: my son is using steroids”, but she’s mistaken. The glory comes from the compound power that the barbell generates. The mighty milk helps too. It keeps you anabolic. Your friends are no longer your friends because they look subhuman next to you. Maybe because they are. You are a real man; they are betas.

Yeah. Except that never happened to anyone who tried to get huge through natural lifting. Exclude the imaginary man with 12-inch wrists that’s been residing in your head for a little too long.

Natties on a bulk belong in stand-up comedy. They get fat regardless of the data presented by the magical calipers of various bulk-promoters. The miracle quality mass never appears. What you get is a non-stop inflating gut, augmented love handles, extra lard on the booty and legs…a middle finger for your birthday, basically.

And by the way, boy, nobody cares that you sold your video card to finance your bulking journey. Nobody notices your sacrifice. In their eyes, you ain’t nothing but a sucker of the highest order. A low IQ pig that overfed itself. They don’t respect your effort – they laugh at you and think you are a joke. Women nod their heads in agreement. Their tits will remain hidden for you. They want a shredded brah with a male model face.

None of this would have happened if you hadn’t bought the lie. The lie that you too, Billy, can become a huge motherfucker by misplacing a barbell a few times a week. The lie that you can get what you want so easily. The lie that the original document leads to the reward. The lie that it’s all about the effort.

Do you know who else bought a lie? The nice guy who thought that opening doors for women will get him women. He listened to their stories while actively trying to find logic. He paid for the dinner, the movie and the taxi. He wore a tie and a stylish cardigan to the date and successfully suppressed the thought of sliding his hand over her leg because women aren’t sex objects. And what did he get for his efforts? He was left on seen upon asking for another date. She read his message while preparing nude photos for Graig – the guy who called her stupid bitch in public when she didn’t buy him the right donuts with her own money on her birthday.

Graig is an interesting character. He has wide shoulders, biceps that resemble icebergs and carries little fat despite preserving his high school dietary habits. To this day, he doesn’t know why, but he’s never experienced a shortage of women. He is all that a woman doesn’t want and yet the magic works. Just a few seconds ago, he received a new text from Brooke. It says: “Meow”. Craig is not a genius, but even he can figure out that this woman will be naked anytime he wants her to be. What he has a harder time figuring out is who she is in the first place.

Meanwhile, Mr. Nice guy knows the zodiac signs of all the ladies he’s been with. Sometimes he even likes their posts on Facebook. He doesn’t press the like button, though. He clicks on the one with the red heart. He wants to show effort. Cause as we all know – work is the secret to getting stuff.

The gym routines of Craig and Mr. Nice guy are different. Craig trains 2 weeks a year and spends the rest of the time surfing, eating chips and drinking beer on the beach. Mr. Nice guy has a training log thicker than the Lord of the Rings sequel. He is powerlifting too. He spends a decent amount of time bathing in dopamine triggered by clips of men willingly putting themselves under a mountain of steel.

Craig doesn’t really know what powerlifting is. As far as he is concerned, powerlifters are balding competitive hot dog eaters who don’t know how to dress. Normally, Craig doesn’t squat, but when he does, it’s never to parallel. Mr. Nice guy is so afraid of committing the same sin that he takes clips of all his sessions from multiple angles and discusses the footage with his nerdy powerlifting friends. Among them, Mark is the strongest. He was even stronger before but lost a lot of his pussy-pulling top end strength upon starting a diet meant to get his body fat in the low 30% for the first time. The diet is working. He lost a pound over the last three weeks.

To this day, Mr. Nice guy cannot figure out two things. First, why isn’t he huge? While he is certainly thicker than before, some people are still showing doubt when he is about to pick up the 19-liter water bottle at the office. He doesn’t understand why. After all, his deadlift is in the high 400s – no belt. “Maybe when I get to 500lbs, the movie will flip,” he daydreams.

The second enigma is why women don’t reciprocate. What does Craig have on him? Yes, Craig is 6’4″ and has nice blue eyes, but we all know that women don’t really focus on a man’s appearance. They care about their own looks and spend 1/3 of their lifetime in front of the mirror, but they only do it because men are overly-visual pigs. Besides, Craig is not really the type of guy to please a lady. His character is awful. He is violent and far from a gentleman. “I am doing everything right,” said Mr. Nice guy. “Why can’t they love me!?”

The two dilemmas of Mr. Nice guy have a similar route. His biggest mistake is accepting the mainstream narrative as true when it’s never the case. Mr. Nice guy puts his fate in conservative rules, but where do they bring you? If the commonly accepted path was the road to gains, the average person would have some. Yet this is not the case. Mr. Average is nothing but an overworked wageslave property of the banks. If Mr. Average had girls, he wouldn’t have to delete his browsing history nearly as often. If the usual natty routine was producing the expected gains, people would not care who is natural or not.

The mainstream behavior is deeply wired within us. When we face evidence suggesting otherwise, we need a very strong reason to accept it as legit. We don’t want to believe that there are fake natties out there…that our training sacrifice is not capable of delivering the hypertrophy we’ve been dreaming of. We want to hold on to the idea that the overtime in the office is worth something.

Same with women. The movies lied, bro. There are many truths about females that are too hardcore for the politically correct environment to declare. It would be the equivalent of admitting that the athletes have been doping since the start regardless of the trillions invested in prevention. The establishment will never do it. The fairy tale has to continue.

Why do the bad boys get what the nice guys cannot? Two reasons. The first one is that they protect their ground and create the forbidden fruit effect. Unlike the nice guys, they are slippery and do not bend to the will of the woman. They are hard to get and therefore desirable. Conversely, the nice guy shows that he can be had at any moment. This is the reverse forbidden fruit effect – you never want what you already have.

The second reason is that men like Graig do not hide their desires. If you ask for something, you may not get it, but if you never ask, you will certainly remain empty-handed. The bad guys ask. They get sexual and state their intentions. Meanwhile, the nice guys never overstep the official boundaries. And since women are expected to be the receivers rather than the initiators rarely something happens.

The bad guys are essentially signaling to the universe that they want something whereas the good boys want the same thing but expect to acquire it through the proper channels. Good luck.

Muscle mass augmentation happens on a similar principle. Men on steroids declare to the universe that they want huge muscles and do what’s necessary to get them. The good sons are after the same prize but follow a path that doesn’t lead to the honey even though it’s socially accepted and approved.

Twisted, right?