A friend of mine had a Red Pill breakthrough I’d like to share.
He’s a nice guy, and a Nice Guy, a Beta (actually, more of a Delta or Gamma, but we’ll use the alpha/beta dichotomy in this instance) in his late 30s who has been in and out of relationships his entire life. He often makes poor choices when it comes to mate selection, and once he’s in a relationship he loses Alpha at a predictable rate . . . with predictable results.
He’s got a sister, whom he’s somewhat close to, and his sister has a friend – let’s call her Candy – who he’s not particularly close to but who has been a part of his life because she’s his sister’s BFF. As he explained, she’s flaky as hell and irresponsible about just about everything, can’t seem to keep a man or a job (she’s a dog groomer), and spends her life, well, like a 30 something flaky chick usually does. She hasn’t hit the Wall yet, apparently, but it’s right around the corner, and she’s got no idea.
Anyway, Candy is about a 7 on a good day, a 6 normally, and is headed for Fiveland on the evening bus. My friend – let’s call him Mike – is comparable, having recently completed a technical degree and started a new job, as well as working out a bit. Mike was attracted to Candy once, years ago, but her personality and proximity soon made her a woman to tolerate, not to date. Besides, as his sisters BFF, she was hands-off.
But Mike is a Nice Guy, and over the years he’s been forced to do all sorts of shit for her out of politeness and filial duty to his sister. At this point, he can’t stand her much at all, but she’s still under the impression that he’s been harboring a secret crush for all these years.
Last month, Candy apparently broke up with her boyfriend – again – lost her job – again – and had to move out of her apartment – again
. Mike lives over an hour away, within driving distance, but his new job makes it hard for him to go visit his sister often. He thinks it’s a comfortable distance for kin, but apparently not enough to make him Candy-proof. She called him up one Saturday morning, and he’d just read something I’d written over coffee, and he was feeling . . . rebellious.
The conversation went something like this – the texts are accurate, but I’m paraphrasing and adding my own interpretation of the phone conversation. But from what Mike said, this is how it went down:8:00 text from Candy: need ur help today8:05 text from Mike: ?8:11 text from Candy: need to use ur truck. I need to move out today.
Now, Mike had plans that Saturday. He’d just gotten his first paycheck that didn’t evaporate into bills, he didn’t have a girlfriend, and he was going to go knock out some errands and play disc golf with a couple of buddies and maybe go out to dinner after. It wasn’t anything formal, but they were plans.8:13 text from Mike: I have plans sorry8:15 text from Candy: cancel them I need u!!!!!!!8:16 text from Mike: to help u move? WTF?8:18 text from Candy: YES!!!!! Need to be out by tonight. Thank you!8:19 text from Mike: I didn’t say id do it8:21 text from Candy: of course you’ll do it8:22 text from Mike: no. good luck.
Now, y’all don’t know Mike. That ‘no’ was right up there with the ‘no’ Caesar screams at a human for the first time in Rise of the Planet Of The Apes
(the original version, of course, although they kept it for the modern one). It was the first sign of defiance toward a woman I think I’ve ever heard him say.
Ordinarily he would have cancelled his plans, raced over to be the hero, gotten two beers and three slices of pizza and paid for a tank of gas for his trouble.
For Mike to say ‘no’ was profound.
He had a moment of clarity, he said. He realized that she was going to use him for his resources and send him on his way without so much as a peck on the cheek – and for a man about to turn 40, that was suddenly . . . unacceptable
to him.8:25 text from Candy: wht do u mean???8:26 text from Mike: I am not going to help you today.
(note he spelled it out on purpose to make his point)
8:29 text from Candy: just get over here8:31 text from Mike: no
Around 8:40 his phone rang. It was Candy. He almost let it go to voicemail, but like I said, he was a rebellious Beta, and he was making the most of it. He wanted to speak to her personally.
“What the hell is your
problem?!?” she asked, angrily.
“What do you mean?”
“Why are you being so stubborn? I need
“No, you need
a moving company. Or a U-Haul. But you don’t need me
“Mike, you know I can’t afford a U-Haul or a moving company! I need your truck! That's what friends are for!"
"So when was the last time you helped me out with something?"
There was a long moment of silence. Then:
"Come on, why are you being like this?”
“Being like what? I never said I'd help you. Shit, I didn't even know you were moving. I have plans.”
“Plans more important than helping me out?”
“They’re plans. They’re my
plans. Candy . . . look, sorry if it’s a problem for you, but this is my
Saturday, and I made plans to do stuff. This is the first I’ve heard about helping you move, using my truck, or anything. I don’t want to drop everything and cancel my plans at the drop of a hat. I don’t want to spend two hours on the road just to help you move.” He was trying to be nice. Of course, she was extremely understanding.“I thought you were my friend!”
“Remember just a moment ago, when I asked you what you had ever done for me? Crickets. If we had any kind of friendship, you should have been able to think of something. Shit, why isn’t my sister helping?”
“She is! She said she’d get you to help!”
“You were misinformed.”
“Mike, you’re being a dick! Just come help me! Please?” (At this point, he said, he was tempted to waver. He really was. When a woman says ‘please’ like that, it’s hard for a Beta to say ‘no’. I’m proud of Mike. He persevered.)
“Why should I help you, Candy?”
“Because we’re friends! And friends help each other out!” she pouted.“So when was the last time you helped me out?”
Dead silence. He let it hang there past the uncomfortable point. He didn’t budge. I’m proud.
“I don’t need this shit, Mike. I don’t know what your problem is, but you’re being a dick and I resent it.”
“So you can’t think of any single thing you’ve done lately – or ever, actually – to help me out. But you want me to drop everything and help you move again.”
“Well you’ve got the truck!” she said, like it was obvious.
“Yes, I have the truck. I’m still making payments on it. Why don’t you have a truck, Candy?”
“You know I can’t afford a car payment on what I make!”
“Sounds like you should have made better career choices.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
He thought for a moment, and then remembered something I’d said in our last pep talk.
“Candy, are you my girlfriend?”
“What? What do you mean? No!”
“Exactly. And either I’m your boyfriend and I help you move, in which case you’re fucking me, or I’m your girlfriend. And if I’m your girlfriend, then I’m going to weasel out of helping you move just like my sister.”
“What kind of fucked-up talk is that?”
“Look,” he said, only half-serious – he said he was joking. “The only way I’d come and help you move today is if you paid for gas, paid for lunch, and then fucked me rotten afterwards. Are you likely to do that?”
“Then good luck in your future endeavors, Candy. I’m going to grab a shower.” Click.
I’m so proud!
But it doesn’t end there. Mike took a shower, got dressed, and was puttering around, watching television when his sister called.
Now, Mike is fairly close to his sister, but they butt heads frequently, just like every pair of siblings. He figured there would be some blowback. When he picked up the phone, it was immediate.
“What the hell are you doing, asshole?”
“Hi, Sis! What’s up!”
“I just got off the phone with Candy. She said you were a rude asshole to her.”
“I wasn’t. I just didn’t do what she wanted me to do.”
“I told her you’d help her move!”
“You didn’t ask me. I have plans.”
“You can reschedule. Candy needs us.”
“Oh, so you’re over there helping?”
“No, I don’t have a truck,” she explained, patiently.
“My truck is going to be in use today. Look, the most I’ll do is let you swap cars with me, but I’m not driving all the way over to ______. You drive over here, pick up the truck, and we can swap back when you’re done.”
“Why are you being such an asshole about this, Mike? She said you tried to have sex with her!”
“No, I pointed out that we weren’t having sex, she wasn’t really a friend of mine, and that I really didn’t see any reason why I had to help.”
“Because you’re a nice guy! Come on, everyone knows how nice you are!”
“What happened to you? Is it a girl or something?”
“No. Maybe it’s just that I’m tired of being used and even loaned out by the women in my life. What the hell has Candy done for me – not for you, but for me?”
“She’s my best friend! I’m your sister!”
“So you go help her. But a man can either be a boyfriend to a woman or a girlfriend. If I’m her boyfriend, she’s fucking me and I help her move. If I’m her girlfriend, then I have plans, better things to do, that sort of thing.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard! You’ve known Candy for years!”
“And she’s never done jack for me. Look, if it was you moving, I’d be there. But it’s not, it’s her. I don’t even really like her. So you deal with it, if you have to. But don’t promise my help for your friends anymore. That’s rude and disrespectful.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you being this way?”
“I’m tired of being used,” he repeated. “Hey, if she wants to trade sexual favors for moving help, I’d be open to that. But I leave here around ten, so if she’s going to act on that, she’d better call soon.”
“You want to screw Candy?” she asked in disbelief.
“I’d consider it in return for services rendered. Or cash. But my time and energy are valuable, and you need to start realizing that.”
“Valuable? What the hell are you doing today that’s so important.”
“I didn’t say it was valuable to you. But I’m done doing favors for Candy. And your other friends, too. I’m either a boyfriend or a girlfriend, and I can only be a boyfriend to one woman at a time.”
“What the fuck happened to you? You used to be such a nice guy!”
“I woke the fuck up.” Click.
If you knew Mike, you’d know just how big that was. It was the first sign of a spine he’d shown in years. Refusing Candy’s inconsiderate request was pretty big on its own. Actually hanging up angrily on his big sister was a huge move. He’s still far from finding his Alpha, but he’s moving in the right direction. And he wouldn’t have done it if it hadn’t been for the Manosphere.
We’ve all known women like Candy: they’re flaky as hell. They wait until the last minute, they don’t plan, they don’t follow through, and when things inevitably fall apart they try their best to get other people to clean up their messes. And during it all not only is this kind of flake not grateful, if things don’t go the way she wants them – even if she’s imposing on the kindness of others – she doesn’t hesitate to throw a hissy cow over it. She feels entitled to your help because she is just so darn special that she deserves it.
It’s important also to realize the scope of such social entanglements of a particular man. We talked about this in depth, and Mike realized that he had probably a half-dozen women in this non-sexual “antiharem” that he will run off to the moment they need help, use him, and then send him on his way with little more than “thanks!” and “You’re such a nice guy!”. I know for a fact all but one of these women has rejected Mike in the past.
There are certain women (and there seem to be a lot of them) who feel compelled to fill the hours of any man they deem “unproductive” by imposing on him for such favors. Often they will talk a great game about equality and fairness, and then beseech you prettily until you acquiesce to help them with their problems. Then, if you propose anything more personal, you get a “I just don’t like you in that way” and “I think we should just remain really special friends”.
Which is code for “I don’t want to fuck you”.
So the Betas who find themselves frequently in this embarrassing position need to discover the ability within themselves to stand up and defiantly say ‘no’ to even reasonable requests for a while. A man doesn’t hesitate to do a friend a favor, but when the “friendship” consists of how much work/time/energy/money a woman can wring out of you, then you’re essentially voluntarily grabbing your ankles and asking for more on every occasion you see them. “What have you done for me?” is a perfectly acceptable response to the kind of “Can you help me out?” request from one of the Eternally Flaky.
But beyond that, resist allowing your time or energy or money to be determined by the women in your life. Mike’s sister overstepped her bounds because Mike had been a doormat for so long that she expected him to come running when she called. Only in this case, she didn’t even call – she just presumed that if Candy would ask Mike, then he would naturally help her out because he’s such a nice guy, her little brother, and yadda yadda yadda. I know Mike’s sister vaguely, and she’s a lot more put together than Candy. But covering that fairly solid core is a thick layer of flaky, and volunteering your little brother for moving duty for a woman who’s not even fucking him or related to him is about the extreme limit of sisterly flakiness.
When called on it, neither woman – the flake, or the vice-flake – would take responsibility for their actions, or even acknowledge the imposition on Mike’s time. They made his unwillingness to pour his time and energy into a rewardless bottomless pit his problem, as if he had somehow attacked them . . . instead of just saying ‘no’.
He got the blowback, too. This happened just after Thanksgiving, before the holiday season. By Christmas time a rumor had spread among his family that he was off his medications or he’d had a crisis or he’d otherwise gone crazy. But when he showed up for Christmas dinner at his mother’s house – with a date, no less – he looked great. New job, new place, new clothes, and even a date that didn’t eat with her fingers (I told you he had poor selection criteria . . .)
Mike tells me that his obstinate refusal came up at Christmas dinner, too. His sister was nasty about it and wouldn’t leave it alone, basically trying to rally her other female relatives (and the men, but mostly the women) into a consensus condemning Mike’s behavior. It didn’t quite go as planned.
I’m not going to do another cute dialogue here (although I’m sure it would be entertaining) but the long and short of it is that Mike’s mom, while initially siding with his sister, eventually decided that her son was within his rights for refusing to help, even if she’d “brought him up better than that”. His aunts were ambivalent, but tended to side with his sister.
The men in his family, to a man, thought what Mike did was absolutely fine. He didn’t even need to apologize. That sparked a brief argument that led to his elderly widower uncle (didn’t catch the name) loudly proclaiming that “you don’t do crap for a woman anymore unless she’s sucking your dick!” at the Christmas dinner table (Mike’s mom makes some killer egg nog, I know for a fact).
Things calmed down after awhile and everyone got friendly again, but apparently it was pretty tense along the gender line for a while. Mike didn’t care, and he defended himself so passionately and valiantly that he impressed his date. Enough to get laid. Score one for Mike. And after dinner, his sister sought him out and tried to apologize, sort of.
(She also wanted to see if Mike was serious about fucking Candy, because apparently Candy has always had a crush on Mike – even though she didn’t hesitate to reject him – and his “offer” to swap sex for help moving had intrigued her. Hmm. I wonder if him being a dick had anything to do with her new-found respect? Mike told me that while he was still attracted to Candy, physically, her personality was such a negative that it would likely be a struggle for him to get into it, if it ever was going to happen. But he’s starting to get it. He snorted scornfully when I mentioned the possibility and said “Maybe a blowjob. But after that conversation, I wouldn’t fuck her with a stolen dick”.)
This is what Betas, Gammas, Deltas and Omegas all need to realize: women don’t respect dudes who kiss their ass. Not enough to fuck them. To most women (and I do recognize there are exceptions, but women in aggregate) the men in their lives fall into a few distinct categories . . . and the eternally unfuckable-but-still-useful-Beta-dude is one of their favorites.
Why? Because by making him her bitch when it comes to doing stuff, she’s ‘proving’ that men and women can be ‘just friends’. She might even be proud enough about it to say it to his face. And he might be dickless enough to agree that, yes, it was purely the power of her personality and sweetness of character that inspired him to sacrifice his Saturday or shell out some bucks or move heavy objects . . . because he’s such a Nice Guy. He might even get defensive about it.
But what is actually going on is female exploitation of the good graces of the men in their lives. For all of their robust talk of equality, even Equity Feminists have this nasty habit of trying to rope the men in their lives who aren’t fucking them or related to them to do their bidding and give up their labor for free. When the tables are turned and suddenly these dudes need favors, these women seem incredibly unhelpful.
Case in point: Perpetual Beta orbitor (a 6) around a fairly hot-but-shallow co-worker (different division)/acquaintance. He wanted in her pants super-bad. He followed her around like a puppy and did all sorts of things for a few weeks until he screwed up the courage to ask her out. She gave him the ‘we’re just good, very special friends’ speech. He was crushed, stopped following her around so much, and she didn’t even notice.
Then he has a work function (big holiday party for clients) that he needs to attend, and he needs a dinner date. It’s expected, and he doesn’t have a girlfriend. He gets a little desperate. He eventually thinks of his “good, very special friend”. He asks her, and even though she isn’t doing anything, she “doesn’t think it would be a good idea”.
He pressed her – he needed this – and she still turns him down, forcing him to go stag to the detriment of his career. He hadn’t implied anything romantic, nothing sexual, just “will you show up and be female for an evening”, no pressure expressed or implied. But she turned him down cold because “we don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea”.
That’s code for “I find you utterly unfuckable and only good enough to serve me.”
And that’s what “good, very special friends” means to most women when they say it to a dude: you are my bitch.
The question of whether or not men and women can be friends is an interesting one. It’s been discussed throughout the Manosphere, and while the extremes both make valid arguments, I tend to fall someplace in the middle. I do think, under the proper circumstances, men and women can be friends. But they are the exceptions. The whole “When Harry Met Sally” discussion on the subject is pretty clear that when men and women try to be friends, sex naturally intrudes no matter what else happens.
What are the exceptions?
Well, if you think you’re a Beta and you’re single, stop doing shit for any woman that isn’t a) directly related to you or b) screwing you without some sort of reciprocal agreement in place. You may develop one (1) hetero female friend who you are NOT interested in sleeping with, and who is NOT interested in sleeping with you, for the direct purpose of helping get each other laid. A female wingman can be invaluable, if you know what you’re doing, and you can offer her the same service. A woman who understands Game is a mighty and dangerous thing . . . but if she’s in your corner, it gives you an edge.
If you are married and you’re a Beta, then start uncoupling the assumption your wife makes that you will do what she wants you to do for her friends without complaint or argument. You have a filial duty to help your unmarried sister-in-law, your mother, your mother-in-law, and your sister. If you are feeling especially generous, you can extend an annual favor to be used on behalf of your wife’s BFF as well, as a special favor to her. MAYBE a female neighbor, if her husband can’t help. But that’s it.
You will, of course, have to accommodate your wife’s agenda – that’s just part of marriage, and you accept that going in – but the moment she starts volunteering you for stuff without asking your permission, you can have this conversation:
“Honey, can you go help Linda move some stuff around? She needs you to install a dishwasher.”
“Is she going to have sex with me afterward?”
“Oh. Then are YOU going to have sex with me afterward?”
“(Insert offended comment along the lines of ‘not if your attitude is like that!’ – but anything other than an enthusiastic and positive response should be responded to thus )”
“Oh. Then I’m not going to help Linda move some stuff around.”
Expect some blowback or explosion . . . the first time. Maybe even the second. But telling your wife you aren’t hers to barter with is worth the grief you’ll get initially. Eventually she’ll realize that promising your attention, time, energy, or money without consultation or permission is extremely disrespectful to you as a man and her husband, and she needs to change.
Men, married or single, really only have a few classes that they lump the women in their lives into. Understanding that there are widely varying individual responses to the question, most men tend to divide their female acquaintances into these sorts of groups:
Group A: Women I’m Related To
Group B: Women I’m Fucking
Group C: Women I Want To Fuck But Haven’t Fucked Yet
Group D: Women Who I Don’t Want To Fuck
Group E: Women Who Have Made It Clear I Have No Chance Of Fucking Them.
Group F: Women I Am Institutionally Forbidden From Fucking
The “women I’m just friends with and I’m so totally comfortable with that” group is not represented because it is statistically insignificant.
Feminism argues that men and women can and should be “just friends” without regard to gender or sex. It is this attitude that has allowed countless feminists to poach other women’s husbands under the guise of “being friends”. Or exploit the labor and resources of their poor Beta orbiters until they are used up – and with as little reciprocation as possible. Feminism tries to claim that if we ‘just remove the sexual component’ then male/female friendships would regularly grow and blossom just like male/male and female/female friendships. But we all know what the practical result is.
The practical result is that for most Red Pill men, women should fall under the following categories:
Co-workers and Colleagues
(If you can manage to acquire a lesbian neighbor, I highly recommend it. I have a few, and they have never failed me when I’ve needed a power tool or help on a project. I’ve been more than happy to reciprocate when my own skillset or specialized tools were required. The lesbians I know do NOT try to take advantage of me or the other men in the neighborhood. They always make a polite inquiry, ask my permission, and express their gratitude and their willingness to reciprocate. And I cannot emphasize enough how much fun it can be talking about the pitfalls of a romantic relationship with a woman with a lesbian. You think I’m misogynistic? Some of the lesbians I know make Archie Bunker look like Maud. Lesbians are in a different class of womanhood altogether. And your lesbian mileage may vary. But I digress.)
Any attempt to blur the distinction between the above categories is fraught with peril. It usually leads to an incremental increase in the requests for your assistance, and it is almost never in your best interest.
So take a page from Mike’s book, Betadudes, and start standing up for yourself. Your time IS valuable, and it should not be wasted on stuff that isn’t going to help you, unless you’re just insanely altruistic. Don’t let the women in your life set your agenda – that’s YOUR job. Until you actually have a ring on your finger and a wife in your bed, your time and energy should be as valuable as any professionals . . . and you shouldn’t let it be exploited by women who have no respect for you.
Just remember: “You’re Such A Nice Guy” isn’t womanly respect, it’s a condescending pat on the fucking head for a servant who has done as instructed. And it’s the easiest way to kill any erotic feelings a woman might have for you. So just stop. They’ll bitch, sure . . . but wait a month or two. That’s what Mike did. After the Candy episode, he saw the other areas in his life where women were setting his agenda and making promises on his behalf. He put a stop to it, and while plenty of them are mad, a couple of them actually got over it enough to call him and ask him out recently.
I can’t quite call Mike an Alpha now, but he’s left his Delta days behind him. That’s a sign of hope for the Manosphere as glorious as any rainbow.