So here I am, on the other side, still improving and a ways to go, but my success with women, while not as constant as i would like, my hits have been with 22-23 year olds. As a 38 year old that got woken up before things could have gotten worse when I was married, let me tell you how far I have come.

Before I met my ex-wife, I was a mess. My ex GF of 9 nine years (ok I did something right I didn't marry her) had jumped ship for a guy who was president of a family run business. I was a mess. i didn't know what I was doing with my life, had come back from Iraq a few years later. Turns out I was doing what I was supposed to be doing, which is art, directing, editing, making videos....etc. Outside the military, I made a living freelancing. Still, being left for someone who looks better on paper left me down and out. I couldn't provide and after finishing college, I had moved back home with what was seemingly a dead end. She took a family trip to the philippines and i was happy for her. She comes back so I decide to take a trip of my own, to Tokyo, which is kinda red pill, despite her objections. I go with a buddy for 30 days, and I am a happy man. I feel like I can handle freelancing and traveling. (I ended up going back to Tokyo three times a year, for a month at a time, for the next three years)

During this time however, shit went downhill fast, she starts a new job, starts hanging out with a gay friend (not gay) and then she tells me we were just dating and nothing else, and tells this to the new guy, Mr. Beta Bucks.

I'm a mess at this point, I feel like shit and useless as a man and provider. This was May, fast forward to January, I move in with my best friend from high school. So I am about 27 years old at this point. The next few years is nothing but partying, girls, (still not red pill, so I chalk up my success to what a great guy I am), I am the life of the party, I move closer to LA to make music videos and art with my other buddies, more partying, girls, etc...but still nothing I would consider successful, since I think I am just aimlessly living life. I will get to this part in my life later.

Then I meet a girl at the club (first mistake) and she is kinda cool. She is 22, I was 28, tight body, loves to hang out no drama (yet), and we date and she becomes my oneitis. I soon learn she is undocumented (I'm mexican but it was still a shock). I felt so invested in her that after 3 years I decide to take her to vegas and marry her.

During this whole time, I had never lived on my own, I had roommates, and now it was time to make her my roommate.

After getting married however, I was like "shit, now i better make sure I can support her". Luckily , as a Vet I was able to go back to school under the Yellow Ribbon program and get my teaching credential at a real good school. A year and a half program. She got a job quick at a school district as a clerk, and I was freelancing, so it's not like she was supporting me while I went back to school. Even with her regular job, as a freelancer and the money I was getting for my living expenses, I was providing like a motherfucker (which we all know means jack shit to a woman)

As soon as I finish the program, i am hired at my old middle school as the only art teacher, and bam, we are a made couple. I never complained about the hours and time I had to put in and we started saving for a house.

Here is where shit started going downhill. My first two years of teaching are probationary, I had more school to do in the evening, writing about my teaching experience etc. it sucked, but I never complained. I was even taking up guitar and playing open mic to take some stress off and making sure I was spending time with her.

After only two years of marriage, supporting her, and going to school, turns out when I was going to my classes, she was finding support in her friends brother because my ex-wife felt neglected. While I was busy working my ass off and sacrificing and putting money away, she felt I wasn't getting her the things she needed (did I mention we were saving up for a house) that I wasn't there for her, etc, and he fulfilled her needs.

FUCK.......It went on for like 6 months before I found out. My gut (trust your gut) told me something was off, but as a husband who loves his wife, you want to have like solid evidence, right?

I finally found it after she gave ma a blowjob like she never had before (where did she learn that?) and she received a text message, and I snooped on her computer (fuck what everybody says, snoop like a mohterfucker)

I confronted her that evening, but was not satisfied, so I played along that I believed her "story". She said she and her firman were in on it to see how long it would take for me to say something. The next day I took her phone and found pictures, text messages, and she jumped out of my car as I kept asking her for the truth. She walked to her mom's and I called my best friends, told my parents and went home. I told her to come get her shit in the morning and had everything organized for her to pick it up.

At this point she was acting all hard like it didn't phase her, her mom was there, my parents were there (I was afraid of her starting shit and calling the cops) and when all her shit was packed up in her shitty friend's car, she told me (I don't want to leave) Her mom at that point, was like, "we gotta go"

My mom asked me "can you pay the rent on your own" and I said, yea. I will never forget her words "You are a man"

I was scared inside. I had never lived alone, but the truth was, up until now, I never knew I could do it. I had a good job, i was still freelancing, and guess what, I had spent the last 15 years honing my skills, my craft, getting good at stuff, being responsible that I really had no reason to worry other than being a pussy.

After a few months in the now dark and lonely apartment, I decided I needed to move, and found a beach house. Gentlemen, being responsible with money helps. I wen to meet my landlord, and being Hispanic is always a big deal when trying to move into a white neighborhood. Especially the beach! But I met him, as vet, teacher, excellent credit, I made him an offer he couldn't refuse. i spent the next two years there, still doing art, converting the kitchen into my editing room (it was a small beach house, bedroom on top, small living room and kitchen and bathroom below, so I maximized what I had). I wish I could say it was the pussy party every weekend, but a few weekends a month was success, considering 22 years olds were my thing. I did have a regular 31 year old, and this was pre-TRP me, now I know she was post-wall, but even then there was something in my gut that told me she wasn't one to keep around as a LTR. I made her cry oh well.

After two years, I was making good money freelancing and teaching I asked my real estate buddy about buying a house and he looked into my situation. He asked me why haven't i bought a house already so now I have been a homeowner for a few months, have a dedicated room for production, my home is a creative playground and am totally on the other side of where I was the day I found out my ex-wife cheated.

I now know what it means to be independent. To not be a slave to a system, where I can take my time off, vacation, or even have the option to quit my job because I was true to my craft, having the drive and curiosity to improve myself. Even though I didn't lift, I was a runner and enjoy hiking, did my pushups, so I know what it's like to push myself physically, but now discovering the red pill, I know i have to keep pushing myself and lift because, I know it's the next step. I have time to do so, no excuses.

But the independence thing. Once you taste it, you can't go back. So you die alone, so what, you die as a freeman, on your own terms. I am getting a new car this summer, been saving up for it, after driving my car for 13 years. It's not a bad car, but as a married guy, it always made sense not to get a new one, cuz, I'm married. Let's put the money towards the marriage. A marriage my ex-wife didn't give a rat's ass about. She couldn't even sacrifice having furniture in our little apartment and wait until we got a house. Turns out I didn't need her to get a house or to help decide what furniture goes in it. My married friends or friends who have never been truly independent try to question how I live, why I live for etc. I don't give a fuck. And I still have a way's to go to get a better IDGAF mentality, but I know I am not a slob, I take care of my things and have excellent taste, and I definitely know that whatever rules others live by, they don't apply to me. Heck, even though I know I don't have to worry, worst thing that can happen is that I have to rent out a few rooms to make mortgage. But it won't come to that.

I have been on the other side gentlemen. I could have died a slave, a beta, or even worse, died without tasting freedom. Now I am here, a freeman, living my life, planning my next adventure.