I am writing this article in response to the challenge made by Generation21stCentury a few weeks ago.

Improvement of self must continue up to the moment of death. So much of what has been written here is based on the driving need of young men to develop their skills in order to achieve their goals. Those goals usually include sex with many quality girls, material wealth to enjoy living, and free time to pursue a variety of interests. These are excellent choices and I encourage you to pursue them. This article will show that in most conventionally successful lives there are opportunities for improvement.

I am a 47 year old engineer and project manager. I have worked on industrial mining construction projects all over the world. I owe no money to anyone. I have been married a long time. My five children are almost grown and some are living on their own.

A few years ago I noticed that my few remaining friends in this world were getting divorced. Their reasons were utterly diverse. The end result was always bitter ex-wives, angry ex-husbands, and weeping children. I started looking for reasons and I did not find anything that made sense to me.

I am a farm boy, ex-military, march or die kind of guy. I am acknowledged in my corner of the industry for being that bastard that can turn a construction project profitable if you can stomach the methods. I can make you cry, fire your ass with a smile, and forget your name the moment you are gone. My only regret at the end of most projects is that I wasn’t more of a hard-ass. In short, empirical methods that work are king. The final arbiter of success is the scoreboard. Nothing else matters.

Nothing that my conventional Catholic society had to say about divorce made any sense to me, and this filled me with concern. I like my family the way it is. What if there was something I could do to prevent what was happening to everyone I knew from happening to me?

Then, one bitterly cold day at the end of a gloomy November, one of my colleagues rigged up a helium suicide device and killed himself. He was one of the few men I could trust with fire and forget delegation. If he said, “I’ll handle it,” I trusted him. He had worked for me for years and had a promising career. I was the last person he talked to on his cell phone, and in his note he mentioned that he was afraid he would disappoint me by quitting early.

This guy was tall, good-looking, fit, and well off. No bad habits. He vacationed in Brazil, scuba-dived wrecks in the Caribbean, travelled the world, lived alone in a nice apartment, and had everything he wanted when he wanted it. We tried to drink his booze cabinet dry during his wake and we, two dozen men from the heavy mining construction industry, failed. Why did he check out early? Was it somehow related to the other shattering changes my acquaintances were going through, such as the divorces?

His suicide got me thinking and I decided to dig into alternative resources. I broadened my search for information and discovered the corner of the web that this site is part of. Many issues started making sense to me. Why did so many other men’s marriages fail when mine was staying strong? Here is why:

My wife was a virgin (until she met me) and lived at home until she lived with me.

She came from a Burmese family that was devoutly Catholic.

I see no difference between work and home and I run both the same.

I will not tolerate malicious stupidity from her or the children.

My wife and children are utterly dependent upon my income. She works at home for me.

I don’t have modern television (or pop culture) in my home because that shit is poison.

I understand that the legal system makes her totally independent and that she can access my income whether I will it or no. But I am the kind of man that she can never replace and thus her hypergamy is satiated. Early in our relationship (before and after we were married) there were several moments where I point-blank told her to comply with my wishes or leave my home. She complied. She is also well aware that I am a vindictive prick that will go to almost any lengths to ensure my will is done. So that makes sense.

Loading...

But why did my buddy check out? God only knows. I speculate that he felt like a failure for not having a wife and children. He was so “blue pill” that he felt life-ending grade shame for not being able to sacrifice his life to a woman. He had told me and others several times that he wished he could find a wife and have children. He was awkward with women. Despite all of his advantages, he could not get laid in a whorehouse. So he killed himself rather than keep facing that failure.

The world is actually kind of a big place. And we are very small.

I am what you folks refer to as a “blue pill” man, an AFC, if you will. I have only made love to a few women when I was younger and now only to my wife. I have little desire to have sex with many different women, my material wants are satisfied, and I have the resources to enjoy my free time. So what does the “red pill” do for a fellow like me?

My life was not all a bed of roses. I had very few friends. I worked hard for other people. I struggled with erectile dysfunction. My wife had a pretty face I loved, but a chubby body I was not attracted to. I volunteered for churches and other organizations. I accepted these things, even though they made me quite angry, because I thought they were correct. I had been taught, and I accepted, that it was right and proper that I suffer and others benefit, and that I should suffer silently and accept my lot.

What the “red pill” does is make a fellow go, “Well. Fuck that noise.”

I thought about what I wanted. I thought about a friend who ended his life rather than face “blue pill” failure. I thought about missed opportunities and a wasted youth. I thought about a life of ongoing slavery ending in forgetful silence. What did I really want? And I applied my problem solving skills and intelligence to the issue of what I want:

To have my dick to work again, every time.

To fuck a beautiful woman regularly, preferably my wife.

To have good friends again, that I can trust.

To have less stress, everywhere all the time.

To start flying aircraft again, like when I was young.

To stop working to make other people rich, and work for myself.

I set out to achieve all of these things two years ago. Most of it is finished. I quit my job, started consulting, and tripled my income. I sold my house and most of my junk and we live in a smaller, cheaper, and less time-consuming apartment. I purchased an airplane and started flying to interesting places regularly again. I started running and lifting weights and am now in the best shape of my life. I moved to a more centrally located city and stopped spending time with parasites. I set my wife up with a personal trainer, go to the fitness classes with her, and now enjoy how she looks. She learned about healthy cooking, we started eating cleaner, and are reaping the benefits. I work less, have far less stress, and I travel regularly to stay in touch with old friends. My dick works much better. My wife is happy. Her eyes shine as she hesitantly caresses my arm and looks up at me with shy pride.

I took a life that was focussed on working for other people and via self-improvement aimed it at working for myself. I have no regrets whatever. Everyone is better off, not just me, but I am the purpose of my life now. I find more information every day that provides me with opportunities to improve.

You young men learn about the “red pill,” bang the hotties, have fun, and God bless you for doing it. I cannot and will not compete in that arena. I yield that ground. I will take my place in the stands and applaud your victories.

I’m going over there now.

You older men need this. Make your life better. Reject a life of thankless servitude and focus on what you want, while you can. Your life may not be perfect, but you can always make it better.

Read More: Average Never Got Anyone Anywhere

