Brief Summary: The death of an alpha friend hurts, but also encourages me to keep bettering myself.

This is my first post here at TRP. I'm still relatively new here, and I hadn't planned to post until I had something worthy to share.

It never occurred to me that my first post here would be anything like this but here it is.

Bear with me though, I have a point to make but it takes a little backstory.

I recently lost a close friend to a traffic accident. He was mowed down while crossing the street by some soccer mom finger fucking her iphone when she should have been looking at the road.

He was a little guy whose SMV should have almost been a negative factor. He had a criminal record, he'd royally screwed up his life (over a woman of course) in his 20s and 30s. He'd become a raging alcoholic, gone to jail for dui multiple times, etc.

He spent most of his life as a self destructive beta buck loser.

So why am I calling him alpha? Because somewhere along the line he got his act together. I'll probably never know what started him down the right road but the results were classic red pill, yet the man never owned a computer. In our society figuring this shit out on your own is an accomplishment in and of itself.

At the time of his death he had clawed his way from being homeless, to running his own small business, and becoming well known, and trusted in our small town. Very few people keep their word today, but he did.

I never knew him to go to a gym but he worked hard outdoors and despite being a little guy, he was ripped.

He used to have a legendary temper, but he learned to control it.

I saw him maintain frame in the face of an angry drunk wielding a 2x4. Don't get me wrong, if pushed far enough he was still a dangerous man, but in a cool collected way.

The drunk finally got a good look at his face and something in his pickled hind brain responsible for self preservation must have clicked, because he suddenly backed the hell off.

I could go on and on, but looking back 90% of what he did to bring about the change, and his attitudes were classic red pill.

He bettered himself, physically mentally, and financially.
He'd quit drinking, he was ripped and saving up money for dental work, and a better place to live. He was also in the process of getting his license back.

Now for the fun part.

I knew he'd had a string of girl friends over the years but it wasn't something we'd talked about much.

At his funeral there were no less than 5 former girlfriends balling their eyes out over him.

Two more came by when I was helping clean out his place who wanted some small item of his for a memento, and another one from the next town over showed up, who hadn't heard of his death.

I miss my friend, but I can't help but salute his memory and laugh my ass off.

Here's this little guy who got the short end of the stick when it came to genetics. He was never attractive, 5'4" ,balding, bad teeth (he had just started getting them fixed) living in a small mobile home across from an industrial park, and driving a ridiculous 50cc moped because he didn't have a drivers license.

Yet, when he died it seems he was spinning at least 8 plates, and god only knows how many others.

Conclusion If he could do it with the odds so seriously stacked against him, what possible excuse do I have for not succeeding, especially with all the resources available that he'd probably never heard of.

EDIT: Formatting.