Within these past few months (and this could just be coincidental to when I log on), it seems like there’s been a lot less content in terms of collaborative, uplifting posts and more in the venting department (I also recognize that “Vent” is actually a flair, so it’s fair game). This does bother me greatly, as when I first joined this thread most of what I saw was stuff about making yourself better in spite of the reality around us: working on YOU.

At the same time, I’d like you to know as a still very young man who was at one point completely submerged in the Anger Phase of swallowing the Red Pill, that it will pass. Unless you are a psychotic incel, you will get over it but it will not be easy. It took me all of four to five years to get out of it. It took me two very bad relationships and several near-misses. I survived experiences that would make you loathe women and wish you didn’t want anything to do them ever again, as I know for a fact that many of you have as well, otherwise you would not have found this rabbit hole and begun your journey. I’ll tell you how bad it was.

I am 24 now. Before you discount me due to my age, my journey down the red pill rabbit hole actually began when I was 18, but like just about everyone I had many moments of weakness where I relapsed into the blue pill mindset, only to return with a furious and (occasionally) misogynist psyche.

My journey started right after high school and the start of college, when my belief in the delusion that nice guys get girls faded very quickly. As a kid who moved around a lot and didn’t grow up with one crew of people, I was admittedly very maladjusted in terms of social skills. I was dorky to a nauseating extent (and there’s a healthy part of that which I’ve accepted; I’ll always be a proud nerd) and awkward as fuck. But, I’m a fairly good-looking guy. I am by no means Brad Pitt, and I’m far from being the hottest guy on Earth, but I’m pretty confident in how I look as we all must be to succeed. In that regard I had an edge and got in the door with a good number of girls as a result. However, I couldn’t keep them, even as plates or girlfriends. The fuck even WAS a plate? I wasn’t getting laid! I was DESPERATE to get laid. And it showed. I probably ran off a dozen girls with my Tinder-addicted lame ass. I finally got laid during my Spring semester with a 5 at best, and it sucked.

What sent me down the red pill rabbit hole was how I drove off these gorgeous girls with my supposedly pristine behavior, as I watched the frat guys doggy-fuck the very girls I wanted with no effort at all, overflowing with malice and envy. I was not in a fraternity because I didn’t get a bid (probably because I was a weirdo), but I lied to myself by saying I chose not to be due to the difficulty of my academic program and its harsh standards for retention just to make myself feel better than them and justify my behavior. I looked down on them as scum that abused women in my own little world of self-righteous arrogance. I went full White Knight, Keeper of the Thirst.

Over the course of that year though, it finally hit me. These girls weren’t being abused (except for the ones actually getting drugged and raped, of course); they wanted it. They saw men with resources and did whatever they could using whatever they had (their youthful sex appeal) to get those resources. It’s why the athletes and frat boys got laid and the studious men like myself did not. It was really that cut and dry and simple. No ill intentions. No right and wrong, no virtue or shame, just the way things worked. The law of the jungle. All of a sudden, girls monkey-branching between men made sense now. Girls I overheard talking about how they encouraged a mutual friend of theirs who was banging an OLYMPIC SILVER MEDALIST to secretly drop her birth control and get herself pregnant to “lock that shit down” (true story) no longer surprised me. In scenarios like those and others where women were just being themselves I kept thinking “typical whores. Stupid bitches” and would move on.

But instead of truly accepting it and moving on, I got angry. I was pissed. Pissed that I was a nerd and not a wealthy jock. Pissed that I wasn’t being rewarded for my good character with pussy (which, if that’s what I thought the reward for good character should be, did I really have good character?). Pissed that I was a relative have-not. I focused more on what I was dealt than what I should do to make myself better. And it made me bitter and cynical towards women. But it surprisingly made me less jealous of other men and instilled within me a desire to surround myself with superior men, so their greatness could rub off on me.

I will admit, the new mindset and that cynicism initially did me a whole lot of good. I stopped putting the pussy on the pedestal. I think that alone changed my frame enough to make me more appealing. When I went abroad for my sophomore year, I had more sex than I knew was possible for me. Europeans are very open and liberal with their sexuality and I rode that for every penny it was worth. I also stopped being a prude. I smoked weed. I got drunk for the first time and developed my alcohol palette. I made flirtatious moves that old me would have dismissed as ungentlemanly. And what do you know? It worked.

I returned to America for my junior year at 20, supposedly a changed man. I knew a new language, I’d had a ton of sex, got most of my drinking and partying out of my system and I was ready to get back to business. But then I met her. The girl who would eventually become my first real adult relationship. She turned out to be more psychologically disruptive than my first year of school and my first dose of the red pill. My life almost ended, literally.

This girl was a 9. Easily. Easily the best looking woman I had ever had a shot with up until that point. This girl modeled underwear and lingerie as a side hustle. And nothing can make a Red Pill Initiate relapse like a taste of the finest. The pussy got put on the pedestal, and the behaviors of virgin me started to resurface.

She played me like a goddamn fiddle and she knew what she was doing. Never in my life was I more of a manipulated lapdog, despite swearing to myself that I was redpilled. When the relationship went downhill because she was done with me, I got METOO’d before that was even a thing. She told me when we broke up that if I ever told anyone we slept together, she’d tell people that I raped her. She swore to ruin my life. So I didn’t say a thing. But that didn’t stop her from telling her friends.

Once I found out she was running that mouth of hers that once sucked me off, I beat her to the punch. I told everyone I knew. My roommates, friends, classmates, and even my professors and administrators. I told them everything including her threat. Thankfully, they all laughed, saying they could never imagine me raping somebody. But because I wasn’t actually sexually assaulted (and because Im a dude), there was never a formal disciplinary case or Title IX case opened against her. That said her credibility was lost and she gained a reputation as a psycho bitch. Had this been during the actual MeToo nonsense, I would have most likely been a goner, dead by suicide.

Before that episode in my life was resolved, I found myself in a very dark place. I dare say that experience with that woman made me evil for a brief period. I started thinking that all women would be willing to accuse me of rape out of convenience, that all women are manipulative whores worth nothing more than my cum they’ve wiped off their chins. At one moment I actually contemplated killing her and myself, but cursed myself for that thought and banished it.

I finished my junior year an utterly broken man, sick with an eating disorder, depressed, gaining weight, struggling academically and already stuck in another toxic relationship with a functioning alcoholic who actually did only want me for my perceived monetary potential, just because the sex was good. She emotionally and verbally abused me, and I took it. After months of unhealthy bullshit I broke up with that mess of a woman in a fleeting moment of clarity, putting myself in exile to heal. The psycho bitch and the alcoholic taught me that no woman’s love is ever truly unconditional.

I studied abroad again, this time focusing exclusively on myself and abstaining from women altogether. I stopped drinking and started lifting. I hiked, explored new cities, and pushed myself away from my comfort zone even further. While my last trip was a personal renaissance, this one was a crusade for my soul. I saved my GPA and used the remainder of my senior year to apply to Graduate School, into which I was admitted.

My one-year Graduate school program was the first year of my adult life that felt remotely normal. The resentment of women still lingered, but eventually faded to be replaced by a general, healthy distrust. I had two more relationships that started and ended with no pomp and circumstance, both with very attractive women. They weren’t crazy. They weren’t slutty. They didnt leave me for an athlete or a richer guy. They were normal, and it just didn’t work out.

I now live and work in a city far from my past life. I’ve left everything behind. I now work in an amazing company doing a job that my degrees are actually applicable towards. My anger is gone. Approaching women is something I no longer worry about. Rejection doesn’t phase me and success with women doesn’t warrant a party. I lift and box to keep myself from returning to the state of fatness in which I once resided. And I’m in pretty great shape, mentally and physically. I still have a couple pounds I could lose. Boxing has given me a new lease on life. If can whoop ass, I can do anything. I think martial arts is a must for men, for the sake of our testosterone levels and mental health. After over a year of choosing to be out of the dating pool, I feel comfortable rejoining it.

The KEY lesson that got me out of that awful Red Pill Rage and into a place of neutral indifference towards women is this: NEVER ALLOW A WOMAN TO BE YOUR PRIMARY SOURCE OF HAPPINESS. That happiness must come from somewhere else. A woman must only be a supplement to your current happiness. If she impedes on it, cut her out.

I escaped the Anger Phase by putting into practice the parts of Red Pill philosophy dedicated to self improvement, not by just focusing on what can get me laid or what parts of female behavior may be undesirable, but are unavoidable and perfectly normal.

If I can get out of the Anger Phase, you can too. I believe in you.

Find and establish your primary source of happiness before you even think of introducing a woman to the equation. I’ve found mine and am happy with it.

Go find your happy place.