Happy Thanksgiving gentlemen. Just wanted to share some thoughts, observations, and some minor successes with the community. Been on MRP for a little while now; not long enough to consider myself versed or educated but I am beginning to internalize what I find to be the cornerstone of my frame. Three-part post: Lifting, Observations, a taste of Success
Lifting HEAVY has been the most central aspect of improvement for me. That positive energy generated from the gym feeds into every other aspect of my life. I operate at high energy so when I was being a fat fuck, that unspent energy was manifesting itself as anger that I blamed solely on my Dead Bedroom – the anger was actually from my lack direction. I started lifting again about 8 months ago and didn’t see any change in myself (internally/externally) for the first 3 months. Lifting HEAVY is what makes the difference. I had a bad case of ‘fuck-around-itis.” Then I read this and it changed everything.
Lifting heavy has done a few things for me: (aside from dramatically improving appearance)
It drastically increases testosterone production
o I work with women 40 hrs. a week and then come home to 2 girls. Without generating T at the gym I was well on my way to growing a vagina myself.
I’m too tired to fight
o Shutting the fuck up is exponentially easier when you’ve worked yourself to exhaustion. Day 1 of heavy squats I was shit tested and I remember thinking to myself “I can’t feel my legs; what makes her think I give a shit about the table cloth being wrinkled?” So I shut the fuck up and an hour later she’s telling me how hot I looked squatting ‘that much weight’ (we go to the same gym at lunch. I need to change my schedule but right now this is what works)
It makes you feel like a man
o I planned my work and worked my plan. Once I started doing that at the gym, it began to carry over into other areas in my life. The plans I make at home aren’t nearly as daunting as those first few weeks of heavy lifts. o It provided me with a frame that I never had before. Failing and being buried in the power rack with 275 on your back makes you stronger mentally, regardless of what onlookers may think.
The sad state of Dads
“They just change when they have kids”
I’ve been completely enamored by the Red Pill truths and I relish talking to other men who have kids because I can learn from them. As we know, most men are not on the journey we are on. They’re plugged-in, unhappy, close-minded, anger-filled, and unequivocally averse to change. These are the same guys that will tell you “Oh they (women) just change when they have kids.”
I accepted that as a universal truth and there was nothing I could do to bring back that fun loving girl I once knew. Only recently have I had this realization:
YOU’RE GOD DAMN RIGHT THEY CHANGE. You think you’re scared of this baby? Try being her.
I was so wrapped up in feeling bad for myself because while all of my friends were out partying I was changing diapers and fighting with this girl who wasn’t attracted to me. In this weak ass mindset, I couldn’t be a fucking leader; I could merely do what I thought SHE would want me to do. Again, principal to her utter disgust for me. IMHO, a new Mother changes because now she requires MORE LEADERSHIP than ever before. As a new Dad I missed a golden opportunity to lead my woman which allowed her to double down on her post-partum issues. She is a reflection of me, and my fat depressed state was not inspiring positive change in her. You guys remember my post about her Lupus and RA? Well I listened, and immersed myself in a diet, yoga, and daily stretching – all of which are led by me and all of which radically lessen the pain she feels.
Women don’t become these bitter, miserable, malcontents the second they give birth. But when you don’t display leadership, that burden defaults to her because she’s stronger than you. You want your girl to resent you? The fast track to that is through avoidance of your leadership responsibility – she will fucking despise you.
Just a taste
I’m writing this post because I have finally seen moderate success through all of the guidance this community has provided me. As of last Saturday (my birthday), I hadn’t sex in 15 months.
She kept bringing up sex but I avoided playing into because after 15 months of no play getting my hopes up wasn’t going to bode well for me.
My birthday comes and goes and I didn’t get laid. BP me wanted to be mad, lash out, and go fuck a fatty. Sunday comes; I stayed strong and didn’t hold it against her – withdrew some attention but was still light and playful.
Well you know what that got me? Laid. The baby went down for a nap and she jumped my bones. I was fully anticipating some obligatory, empty, and effortless birthday sex. I kept telling myself “If it’s empty – end it.” It wasn’t because I brought the vim & vigor – playing on that leadership role. She was way into it and that made me fearful of premature ejaculation. But I thought of NMMNG and I was only concerned with what felt good to me. Her moans and shakes were hers not mine. With this mindset we both had a fulfilling experience. After we finished up, she comes back from the bathroom with some waterworks. I just hugged her and I told her I was here to listen. She begins apologizing profusely. Something along the lines of “I’m so sorry I wasted more than a year of our relationship. I was so afraid of having sex and I made things so hard for us over nothing. I promise I will never do that to you again. I feel so much better about everything; I’m so happy, yada, yada.”
As I kept my mouth shut and just hugged her, I’m thinking to myself “Does she really think this is her fault?” I’ve come to the conclusion that I was caught so off guard because she was in my frame.
I’ve got to keep my foot on the gas now. Going from a 15-month dead bedroom to having sex every day since Sunday is a major accomplishment for me but it is not the goal. I have to remind myself of this multiple times a day because already I can feel the BP urge to rest on my laurels. Fuck me sideways with a lunch box; the conditioning is strong.
“You fucked her up – you fucking deal with it”
I didn’t want to breath CPR into my sex life – I wanted to Pulp Fiction style adrenaline shot to the heart of my sex life. That scene actually embodies so many of our situations. My relationship was dying right in front of me, and I’m shouting in a panic for the fucking magic marker. Well, ironically enough, the magic marker is red (the MRP) and the only person who can drive that adrenaline shot into the heart is ME.
I’m new and my credibility is lacking but I hope this helps at least one of you out there. Go forth, be strong, and become better every day. Lead your families through the difficult holiday season. You will be forever internally rewarded for your efforts. Don’t let off the gas – let ‘er eat. There's a lot more work to do.