Ol’ Billy Redface and his Monday Morning Podcast were instrumental in helping me get through the roughest parts of my divorce with laughter and some general tough love (fat shaming and his “hit the gym when you get dumped” mantra). But r/theredpill is what brought Lazarus back from the dead…

Here is the story of how I found you ballsy fuckers.

A month and a half ago I was browsing r/all at work, as is my wont to do when I have a case of the Mondays and can’t bring myself to accomplish any, you know, work. I was still in a depressive funk from my divorce but I had finally sold my house and moved back in with my parents so I wasn’t alone all the time anymore. I still wasn’t going out, still had a black cloud hanging over me like Eeyore and still was addicted to fapping, poor eating and generally being a fat, negative, lazy homebody.

Then I saw this post: http://www.reddit.com/r/TheRedPill/comments/2fq5n5/a_whole_bunch_of_brilliant_posts_that_didnt_make/

The articles that jumped out to me immediately were “Don’t be like Bruce,” “Focus on you first. And second. And third. And...blah blah...Worry about women seventh” and “6 Harsh Truths That Will Make You a Better Person.” These 3 posts hurt. I mean damn. They hit me like a ton of bricks. They made me realize I had been wallowing in a pit of depression so deep it would have been right at home in Buffalo Bill’s basement from Silence of the Lambs. I literally was acting like a bitch. Eating ice cream while crying. Crying into my pillow. Taking selfies of myself whilst crying to “remind myself” later about the pain. Eeeeesh. Yuck. My death was very likely going to “be like Bruce” if something didn’t change; I would probably have gotten over my ex-wife eventually, met another chick exactly like my ex-wife, married her, gotten dumped again…and eaten a bullet because I couldn’t believe it all happened again. Not pretty.

Probably the absolute lamest thing I did during this period was start to fantasize about my suicide. I crafted this cockamamie narrative in my head where my death was “honorable” because “he choose to die for love” and “couldn’t go on without his queen.” I even drew a picture so gay I might just have to post it if enough of you demand it: I drew a picture of myself lying dead in my grave underground. From my dead heart had sprung a root system that extended directly above myself until it broke the surface where it became a beautiful flower that brought a smile to my ex-wife’s face. Even in death my Beta sacrifices would provide her with comfort and happiness [“The Oneitis is strong with this one”]. I drew it with a maniacal smile and a steady stream of tears running down my face. You know, cuz she would totally be standing around at my grave looking for flowers to sniff. As Bill Burr would say, “OHHHHHHHHH JEEEZUSSSSSS.” I cringed writing that shit just now. That is how far removed the Lazarus that sits here today is from the Lazarus that drew that faggy shit 3-4 months ago.

One of the most bitter, painful red pill truths for me to swallow when I discovered you fellas was the fact that “Women do not love unconditionally, except for their children.” I truly loved my wife unconditionally. As a man reared in the pussy ass America we have had the last 40 years, I had been raised to believe in “the one” and unconditional love [Which is really a useful way of thinking when you are fat. That “unconditional” word means I can get as fat as I want, right?]. I had grown up thinking the noblest sacrifice a man could ever make was giving his life for someone he loved. …I know you guys will believe what I am about to write because a lot of you are like me, former Herbs. I would have DIED for my wife. LITERALLY. I would have stepped in front of a car for her. I would have given her my vital organs. I would have killed 10,000 people to save her life if that scenario ever unfolded somehow. I meant it with every fiber of my being. It was a point of pride for me as a man. I had put the pussy on a pedestal. When I realized that the reasons my wife had fallen in love with me couldn’t be used to reignite her love for me, it was crushing. I loved her as much at the end of our marriage as I did the first time I ever said “l love you” to her. She could have gained 500 lbs., I would still have loved her (she was never a fatty and still looks amazing).

The red pill taught me that as Men, our concepts of honor and loyalty are not the same as women’s. Yeah women might use the same dictionary as us, they might quote the Male definition of those words in a classroom setting, but they do not KNOW what those things mean in the exact way Men do. Anyone with a brother, homies, been in the military, hell pretty much every dude I know believes in some kind of code. Their personal moral and ethical barometer. And that code includes many things like “your word is your bond”, “your friends are your brothers and you WILL BE THERE when they need you, no questions asked,”etc. I am lucky to have always had a huge group of bros that truly are my BROTHERS; Men that are there for me through thick and thin and do not judge me. I can go YEARS without seeing them and pick up like we last talked yesterday. Women just aren’t like us. They have no honor. They have no loyalty. They have only hypergamy. Your pet dog is a better candidate for giving you unconditional love than a woman. I will never forget this lesson.

The other really painful red pill truth that I learned that day was “You cannot mandate desire.” I had truly believed that I could use ultimatums to cure our dead bedroom. “Have more sex with me or it’s over. Be more attracted to me.” As my little brother told me in one of our many late night talks, “Dude, if you want to be desired…be desirable.” I had forgotten that. I had gotten comfortable and gained probably 40 pounds over the 7 years I was with her. I had stopped playing music, traded my weeknight bar gigs for COD co-op and became a useless couch potato. Who finds that desirable? Would you? But as I have learned from Rollo and Roissy, desire cannot be faked. It can only exist when it is real. It is drawn from raw emotion, not officially-stamped marriage paperwork or years of “being together.” Passion is harder and harder to keep alive as time goes on, which is why cheating is so popular [Guess what? This Betaboy had also been raised to believe “a real man doesn’t cheat”]. I realized instantaneously that what I had been doing with my wife by feebly asking for sex at the end had sped up my divorce, not slowed it down. I was trying to defuse a bomb but I cut the wrong wire and the timer just sped up.

There was a time when she just couldn’t wait any longer and would blow me in public places. When road head was something that happened because she needed my dick in her mouth, STAT. At the end, there was no excitement, no sense of danger or even a rush. It was just mechanical “this will shut him up” sex. I feel terrible now knowing that I forced my wife to have sex when she wasn’t into it. Because who wants to feel like “let’s just get it over with” regarding something as mind-blowingly awesome as sex?

Since finding that treasure trove post, I have devoured the rest of the articles in that link and found my way to Rational Male (Rollo), Chateau Heartiste (Roissy), Roosh’s website, KrauserPUA, Tyler from RSD and many others. I am a voracious reader when I find a subject that fascinates me. I have now read over 100 articles/posts on Rational male and Roissys site (the 2007-2009 Roissy posts are the best ones he ever did, IMO. Everything by Rollo is enlightening). Of those, I have probably re-read about 40 that were really useful.

Suffice to say I had no idea that a community of bad motherfuckers like this existed on reddit. I usually just checked out r/CODZombies, r/milf and the general Internet detritus that accumulates on the front page. I am spreading the word everywhere I go now about the red pill. But I have to temper myself by remembering that not every Man is ready to be unplugged at this exact moment. Until then I will just be an example of someone they noticed is “changing.”

My gym and diet are going great; I have lost 40 lbs. since June. My confidence is much improved; I faked it until the confidence became real. This WORKS. My game is getting better; I have banged 7 chicks over the last 2 months and I don’t give a fuck about walking into the hen house like a lone wolf (solo cold approaching a table full of disinterested looking chicas). My social life is busy as fuck; I literally don’t have to try to not watch TV or play video games because I am too busy. I am getting better at sex due to less fapping and massive testosterone from exercising 2x daily; I last longer and the girls are busting more frequently. Most importantly I think, I moved out my parents’ house and into a sick ass bachelor pad, Workaholics-style. Our pad straight looks like the Delta’s house in Animal House, dripping with scummy masculinity (the best kind!).

Because of the red pill sub and my bros, this proverbial Stella got his groove back and is out there killing it. But I know my journey isn’t over; it’s just beginning. I didn’t write this to drop some knowledge like a learned doctor. I wrote this as a genuine thank you and hopefully, as inspiration to the next man who discovers the red pill and goes on the ride of his life. Cuz in the end, that’s all the red pill really advocates. Be the best man you can be, according to YOUR definition of what constitutes a man. Fuck morality, fuck religious/political wrangling over our responsibility to be “good men.” My only responsibility is to own everyday like a Boss. Cuz when you own the world, you’re always home (great Queens of the Stone Age lyric, haha).

Crucial thanks to my buddies who have shared their time and energy getting me back on my feet, crucial thanks to the PUA/Red pill community for amassing years of written research and field work. And crucial thanks to anyone who reads this and finds it useful. I hope to someday be like a Roissy or Rollo to the next generation. We need as many as we can find, because Gentlemen…this is war.

Because of Brotherhood, because of Men looking out for other Men, I am now a proud member of the “fucked 2 chicks in 1 day” club. My confidence is so thick you could bottle it and sell it as a steak sauce. And Brothers….I’m just getting warmed up…

Remember: DON’T BE LIKE BRUCE