When I describe myself as a black sheep, I mean it. I embrace it. It's been that way from the start. I spent years playing the game, living a multitude of little lies, and no doubt I've profited from it. But my heart and mind were never invested in it. As those closest to me have observed over the years, I don't care about the things other people seem to care about. I'm thoroughly alienated, utterly detached. And I suppose I've paid some sort of price for it, too.
As you know, in my mid-twenties I finally perceived clearly the lies I had been told about women, race, and life in general. I was encouraged in my new thinking by having lived, travelled, and been educated abroad for so long, which gives one a unique way of looking at things. And for that I am incredibly grateful. That was when I swallowed the 'Red Pill", as it is called now. I haven't looked back since.
It is not enough merely to react; one must have a way forward, too. There has to be a plan, an objective, providing hope and purpose, and, therefore, a reason to get up in the morning. So somewhere along the line I started formulating in my own mind a way of living for myself and myself only. As part of this process I looked at other men to see how they lived, eventually settling on three main categories into which most chaps can be placed. These are as follows:
(1) Trads. These are the men who opt for the traditional route of marriage, mortgage, and family. I think the vast majority of men fall into the this group. Many are called, some are not. Formerly a secure, conventional route, in recent decades married life has been rendered highly unsafe due to the distorted nature of modern females and the divorce industry. I'm encountering more men in my daily life who have gone down this road, only to end up broken and alone. For many if not most men in the US today, marriage and family life are an enormous risk, one that more men are increasingly choosing not to take. I was briefly married once and determined it's not for me. Been there, done that.
(2) Drop-Outs. A group populated by the broken males, the man-boys, the dank shut-ins in terry cloth robes stained with energy drinks and potato chips. A world of video games and porn. Addicts hooked on drugs, alcohol, and the interwebz. It is way of physically and socially disengaging from the world. Drop-outs avoid not only the challenge of living--but also the pleasure, beauty, and glory that are still to be attained. It is a death-in-life existence. To be avoided.
(3) Dissidents. These are the men who live an active life on their own terms. It is a method for engaging life, accepting fate--not hiding from it. The endgame should be to thrive, not just to live. It is recognition that life is a struggle and requires the mindset of a fighter. The key to the dissident is a "I don't give a fuck" attitude. This is the life of a corsair, a privateer, a rebel. Take all that one can from life, because after all one could die at any moment. Pick a fight. Face the sun.
As you know I had a unique, privileged upbringing, for which I'm very grateful. But the one constant criticism I received from family members was that I was selfish and self-absorbed. They made it seem as if I were destined for Hell. I took it seriously. I owned it. And I responded in a typically adolescent manner: "If I don't put myself first, who will?" Looking back I can see I had a point, and although I didn't quite realise it, in some ways I've been preparing myself all along for the dystopian reality that prevails today.
Of course, on a personal level, I've nothing to complain about. Quite the contrary in fact. I'm successful and comfortably well-off. I have an interesting past and plenty of memories to sustain me. I live in a nice house near the ocean. I take holidays in exotic locales. I'm surrounded by pretty women and have access to more sex than I know what to do with. Living well, they say, is the best revenge. I've made my choice and I'm sticking to it. You can find me poolside.