Figured I'd share my favorite story of gamma male perfidy, both because it fundamentally turned my worldview on its head and because it gives some insight into the kinds of women who end up with gamma males (the ones who can get laid, anyway).
I'll preface this by saying that a lot of information about this particular gamma male comes from a girl he was dating (and who I basically stole from him). She's deeply mentally ill and vindictive, so some of it might be exaggerated or outright made up, but all of what she told me lines up with the gamma stereotype and what everyone else is sharing here. (The Chicago Tribe can vouch for this story, most of them have met this girl.)
Three years ago, just prior to my trip to the Philippines, I was visiting Chicago for a few days when a female reader of mine (I'll just call her "K.") invited me to meet her, her boyfriend, and another male reader of mine for dinner one day. I accepted and met them all at K.'s apartment, the day before I was due to ship out.
K. was super happy to meet me in person for the first time and seemed a little nervous: she was constantly doting on me with drinks and sat next to me on the couch when she wasn't retrieving beers from the fridge. Her boyfriend (I'll simply call him the Cuck) was superficially friendly but was weirdly distant the whole night, barely participating in our conversation and staring into space most of the time. He was attractive in a very effeminate way; pale skin, androgynous face, skinnyfat. Think David Bowie with all the testosterone sucked out.
After we all went out to dinner and came back, the Cuck went to bed early, claiming he had to get up for work. The other guy also had to go home to his family. K. didn't want to go to bed though, so she invited me out to a bar for more drinks. Within ten minutes of us sitting down, she was spilling deeply intimate and disturbing details about her personal life, flirting with me and touching me on the hand and shoulder. She also paid for all the drinks.
The bar closed up at 11pm (we were there for about two hours), and we went back to K.'s apartment (I'd left my coat there). She was drunk and stumbling around on heels on the way out, so I instinctively grabbed her hand to make sure she didn't fall.
"That's reaaallly sweet," she slurred.
"Don't read anything into this," I barked. "I'm just trying to make sure you don't smash your teeth out on the sidewalk. Indulge me."
"No, that's reaaallly sweet," she repeated.
We walked back to her place and when we got to the front door, K. suddenly turned to me.
"Matt, I have a confession to make," she said. "I... want... you..."
I can't remember if she finished her sentence, but I do remember immediately kissing her. Then I caught myself and pulled back.
"K., are you nuts?" I hissed. "The Cuck is sleeping right there!"
K. ignored me and silently unlocked the front door, putting her finger to her lips in a shush motion. I followed her in, hissing at her to back down or apologize. She went into the bathroom and gave me a come-hither gesture, so I followed her in and shut the door.
While K. was taking a piss, I kept pleading/lecturing/asking her under my breath what the hell she was doing. She didn't say anything, but gazed up at me with this bizarre look of lust and contempt on her face. The message was dead obvious: "Why don't you just shut up and fuck me already?"
Don't ask me why I didn't just get my coat and leave. I was drunk.
When she was finished, I whisked her into the living room (their apartment was tiny: a living room, a dining room/kitchen/bedroom, and the bathroom) and laid her out on the futon. I pulled her skirt and panties off while whispering to her to get her shirt off; she complied. I undid my belt and felt around for her pussy (it was pitch black in the room), shoved my middle finger in and finger-banged her for thirty seconds. After re-adjusting her body so I could comfortably fuck her, I whipped it out and started slowly pushing in, playing just the tip...
A light suddenly turned on behind me. I wheeled around. It was the Cuck.
Oh shit.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" I panicked and pulled my pants up, assuming he was going to rearrange my face with the nearest blunt object. "I didn't mean to!"
"It was her fault!" I pointed to K., lying naked on the futon. She didn't say anything. "It was her idea! She put me up to it!"
"Just get the fuck out," the Cuck says. There was no emotion in his voice.
"Sure, sure! I'm going! I won't bother you again!" I quickly put my shoes on (forgetting my socks), grab my coat and hobble towards the exit. I couldn't figure out how to undo the five some-odd locks they have on their front door, so the Cuck had to unlock them for me. I sped down the stairs (as fast as you can speed with no socks and your shoes only half-on), into the metro station (fortunately, they lived a block away from the Green Line) and back to the city.
I didn't hear from K. again until the next morning, at which point I was already in Los Angeles, waiting on a connecting flight to Tokyo. She told me that she blacked out what happened the night before and that I shouldn't worry about it, whatever it was. I didn't believe her---for God's sake, her boyfriend walked in on me fucking her!---but I also realized that I wasn't going to see her again for a long time if ever, so I let it slide.
Fast forward three months later. I had to swing by Chicago on my return from the Philippines to talk about a business deal with a friend of mine. I message K. and tell her I want to meet up while I'm there. She agrees. I figure I'll get laid again at bare minimum, or at least figure out what's going on (I had minimal contact with K. while I was in Asia, and she'd remained outwardly supportive of me and my work).
I met K. the day before Columbus Day and we go to my favorite bar in the city for drinks. While we're taking the metro into Chicago (she'd lost her wallet the day before, so I offered to buy her a new train pass and pay for her drinks since I wasn't about to let her get away), she drops this whopper on me:
"Oh by the way, the Cuck doesn't like you, because according to him---and I don't believe him---you jacked off in the sink when you were here over the summer."
"What?" I couldn't believe it.
"Yeah. In fact, I'm not even supposed to hang out with you. I told him that I was going out to look for my wallet."
In other words, this guy walked in on me about to rail the shit out of his girlfriend, she blacked it out, and he was too much of a coward to confront her about it.
I didn't fully believe K. for obvious reasons, so when we got to the bar, I started trying to probe her for weaknesses and figure out what she was playing. After beer number six I lost composure and started yelling at her, telling her that we had sex that night and demanding to know what she was trying to pull. She freaked out, asserted that she was "not a cheater," and then started screaming that she "raped" me. I pulled her out of the bar and back to my apartment because I didn't want her to cause a scene.
Back at my place, I recounted the whole story, cross-examining K. like she was on the witness stand, assuming she'd either deny everything or blame me. To my surprise, not only did she profusely apologize, she admitted she had a "crush" on me, but she was afraid to act on it because I was massively out of her league (she was cute, but I can and have done better). We ended up having sex again and she stayed the night.
The next morning, I take K. back home. She's a total wreck, claiming she was a "shitty person" for cheating on the Cuck, saying that she loves him, that she wants him to propose to her but he never will because he knows how "shitty" she is, claiming she "hurt" me, and wishing she'd never been born. At one point, she tells me that me killing her would be less painful than facing him. I drop her off at her stop, say goodbye, and head back to the city.
Coincidentally, this was the same day that Return of Kings published my mega-viral article "[url= http://www.returnofkings.com/45334/5-rea...e-broken]5 Reasons Why Girls with Tattoos and Piercings Are Broken[/url]." This will become relevant later.
A few days later, I'm back in New York when I notice a bunch of comments on my blog from a guy claiming that I "raped" his "friend" and that he'll kick my ass if I come back to Chicago. I look up the guy's IP address: it leads right back to K.'s town.
I immediately text her demanding an explanation. She freaks out and claims she doesn't know what's going on. I ask her what she told the Cuck about what she was doing the night she stayed at my place. She says she didn't tell him anything because she "didn't want to drag the two of you into it." I still don't know what excuse she gave him for disappearing for a whole day and coming back hungover, bleary and missing her sweater and pantyhose, and I frankly don't want to know at this point.
Fast forward six months. After relocating to Chicago, I meet up with K. after half a year of barely talking to her. She tells me that not long after the ROK article went viral, the Cuck started claiming that I had raped her and was pressuring her to go to the police and charge me. When she refused, he had a retard junkie friend of his go around the Internet publicly accusing me of rape in an attempt to get Manboobz or another feminist blogger to turn it into a category five shitstorm, while informing all our mutual friends that I was a rapist in order to get them to pressure her. I didn't fully believe her until I found a text convo between them that confirmed it.
Just before I moved to Chicago, the Cuck had dumped K. in favor of a fat chick. He had apparently been cheating on her from day one of their relationship with fat girls he met off OKCupid, and claimed that he dumped her because of her refusal to charge me with rape, saying she was damaged goods. (The Cuck is also a male feminist. Go figure.)
K. claimed that at the time I met her, the Cuck was refusing to have sex with her at all, and her cheating shattered his perception of himself as a good boyfriend. My ROK article going viral drove it home. The Cuck realized that I'd accomplished far more than him at a younger age---he flunked out of high school because he smoked too much pot, he worked a shitty IT job and subsisted in part off of handouts from his parents, and he actually refused a job promotion because it would have cut into his video game time---and that he couldn't compete with me for K.'s affections.
K. also asserted that the few times the Cuck would fuck her, he was terrible in bed. He would lie on his back and make her do all the work until he was ready to come (which took about ten minutes). I'm not sure if I believe this, but it fits.
Before this all happened to me, I would have raised an eyebrow at the story AnonymousBosch kicked off this thread with. Having lived that kind of story---and having it consume nearly two years of my life---I don't sneer at shit like that anymore.
Gamma males are real, and the damage they can do is spectacular.
Having said all that, I don't feel bad for any woman who ends up in a gamma male's clutches, because they bring it on themselves. Case in point: K. and I are no longer speaking and our relationship flamed out near the end of 2015. A good portion of it was the difference in our respective SMVs: I could do better than her and she knew it, even admitting it at one point. But her mental problems and severe alcoholism also wrecked things.
K. flipped from telling me she was in love with me (and telling her sister I was her "best friend") to hating me and accusing me of being the source of all her problems in the span of a week. After several months of passive-aggressive Facebook posts calling me a "narcissist," she blocked me, claiming that I was "spreading rumors" about her.
Thing is, according to a mutual friend of ours, she's now dating a guy who is almost identical personality-wise to the Cuck. Her new beau tried to instigate a fight with said friend because he had the audacity to text K. about a project they were working on, while K. and her new beau were on vacation. This guy even looks like the Cuck, right down to the androgynous soy face and left-wing politics. K.'s boyfriend prior to the Cuck also fit the gamma male archetype (and also amusingly left her for a fat chick with huge tits).
My working theory is that there's a specific type of woman who's initially attracted to gamma males and narcissists because they want to "fix" them or otherwise help bring out their inner potential. After the reality of the gamma sets in, they realize they fucked up and seek a traditionally masculine man to give them what the gamma can't. Thing is, traditionally masculine men don't need a woman to "fix" them: they can handle their shit by definition. Said men also impose standards on women and don't tolerate their BS.
In my case, I didn't need anything from K., because I already had my life together. Whenever she got drunk, she'd wax regretful about how the Cuck had so much wasted potential; for example, she claimed he was a good musician, but he never once tried to book a show or compose an album. In the same breath, she'd praise me for being able to make a living as a writer at my young age and tell me that I was going to be a great novelist some day.
When this type of woman realizes that the masculine man doesn't need her to help get his life in order, she gradually withdraws from him and back towards the gamma male, who she can manipulate... at least until his unattractiveness sets in and the cycle begins all over again.
In K.'s case, she yo-yoed from having so much contempt for the Cuck that she wanted to sleep with me ten feet away from his bed (and after we'd known each other for maybe seven hours) to pushing me away because I was a "narcissist." Now she's shacked up with another gamma male who will end up burning her in the same fashion.
Thoughts?
As an aside, I recently recorded a subscription-only podcast with Davis Aurini, Daniel Friberg and Melissa Mészáros discussing gamma male psychology, our encounters with gamma males and how they tried to ruin our lives, and how to deal with them. You can get the episode for $0.99 below:
http://mattforneybooks.com/matt-forney-after-hours/
http://mattforney.com/matt-forney-show-episode-139/
https://www.patreon.com/mattforney
If you've got a blog/website, I'll give you a free copy if you're willing to review the podcast (you can make money through my affiliate program for each episode sold).
I'll preface this by saying that a lot of information about this particular gamma male comes from a girl he was dating (and who I basically stole from him). She's deeply mentally ill and vindictive, so some of it might be exaggerated or outright made up, but all of what she told me lines up with the gamma stereotype and what everyone else is sharing here. (The Chicago Tribe can vouch for this story, most of them have met this girl.)
Three years ago, just prior to my trip to the Philippines, I was visiting Chicago for a few days when a female reader of mine (I'll just call her "K.") invited me to meet her, her boyfriend, and another male reader of mine for dinner one day. I accepted and met them all at K.'s apartment, the day before I was due to ship out.
K. was super happy to meet me in person for the first time and seemed a little nervous: she was constantly doting on me with drinks and sat next to me on the couch when she wasn't retrieving beers from the fridge. Her boyfriend (I'll simply call him the Cuck) was superficially friendly but was weirdly distant the whole night, barely participating in our conversation and staring into space most of the time. He was attractive in a very effeminate way; pale skin, androgynous face, skinnyfat. Think David Bowie with all the testosterone sucked out.
After we all went out to dinner and came back, the Cuck went to bed early, claiming he had to get up for work. The other guy also had to go home to his family. K. didn't want to go to bed though, so she invited me out to a bar for more drinks. Within ten minutes of us sitting down, she was spilling deeply intimate and disturbing details about her personal life, flirting with me and touching me on the hand and shoulder. She also paid for all the drinks.
The bar closed up at 11pm (we were there for about two hours), and we went back to K.'s apartment (I'd left my coat there). She was drunk and stumbling around on heels on the way out, so I instinctively grabbed her hand to make sure she didn't fall.
"That's reaaallly sweet," she slurred.
"Don't read anything into this," I barked. "I'm just trying to make sure you don't smash your teeth out on the sidewalk. Indulge me."
"No, that's reaaallly sweet," she repeated.
We walked back to her place and when we got to the front door, K. suddenly turned to me.
"Matt, I have a confession to make," she said. "I... want... you..."
I can't remember if she finished her sentence, but I do remember immediately kissing her. Then I caught myself and pulled back.
"K., are you nuts?" I hissed. "The Cuck is sleeping right there!"
K. ignored me and silently unlocked the front door, putting her finger to her lips in a shush motion. I followed her in, hissing at her to back down or apologize. She went into the bathroom and gave me a come-hither gesture, so I followed her in and shut the door.
While K. was taking a piss, I kept pleading/lecturing/asking her under my breath what the hell she was doing. She didn't say anything, but gazed up at me with this bizarre look of lust and contempt on her face. The message was dead obvious: "Why don't you just shut up and fuck me already?"
Don't ask me why I didn't just get my coat and leave. I was drunk.
When she was finished, I whisked her into the living room (their apartment was tiny: a living room, a dining room/kitchen/bedroom, and the bathroom) and laid her out on the futon. I pulled her skirt and panties off while whispering to her to get her shirt off; she complied. I undid my belt and felt around for her pussy (it was pitch black in the room), shoved my middle finger in and finger-banged her for thirty seconds. After re-adjusting her body so I could comfortably fuck her, I whipped it out and started slowly pushing in, playing just the tip...
A light suddenly turned on behind me. I wheeled around. It was the Cuck.
Oh shit.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" I panicked and pulled my pants up, assuming he was going to rearrange my face with the nearest blunt object. "I didn't mean to!"
"It was her fault!" I pointed to K., lying naked on the futon. She didn't say anything. "It was her idea! She put me up to it!"
"Just get the fuck out," the Cuck says. There was no emotion in his voice.
"Sure, sure! I'm going! I won't bother you again!" I quickly put my shoes on (forgetting my socks), grab my coat and hobble towards the exit. I couldn't figure out how to undo the five some-odd locks they have on their front door, so the Cuck had to unlock them for me. I sped down the stairs (as fast as you can speed with no socks and your shoes only half-on), into the metro station (fortunately, they lived a block away from the Green Line) and back to the city.
I didn't hear from K. again until the next morning, at which point I was already in Los Angeles, waiting on a connecting flight to Tokyo. She told me that she blacked out what happened the night before and that I shouldn't worry about it, whatever it was. I didn't believe her---for God's sake, her boyfriend walked in on me fucking her!---but I also realized that I wasn't going to see her again for a long time if ever, so I let it slide.
Fast forward three months later. I had to swing by Chicago on my return from the Philippines to talk about a business deal with a friend of mine. I message K. and tell her I want to meet up while I'm there. She agrees. I figure I'll get laid again at bare minimum, or at least figure out what's going on (I had minimal contact with K. while I was in Asia, and she'd remained outwardly supportive of me and my work).
I met K. the day before Columbus Day and we go to my favorite bar in the city for drinks. While we're taking the metro into Chicago (she'd lost her wallet the day before, so I offered to buy her a new train pass and pay for her drinks since I wasn't about to let her get away), she drops this whopper on me:
"Oh by the way, the Cuck doesn't like you, because according to him---and I don't believe him---you jacked off in the sink when you were here over the summer."
"What?" I couldn't believe it.
"Yeah. In fact, I'm not even supposed to hang out with you. I told him that I was going out to look for my wallet."
In other words, this guy walked in on me about to rail the shit out of his girlfriend, she blacked it out, and he was too much of a coward to confront her about it.
I didn't fully believe K. for obvious reasons, so when we got to the bar, I started trying to probe her for weaknesses and figure out what she was playing. After beer number six I lost composure and started yelling at her, telling her that we had sex that night and demanding to know what she was trying to pull. She freaked out, asserted that she was "not a cheater," and then started screaming that she "raped" me. I pulled her out of the bar and back to my apartment because I didn't want her to cause a scene.
Back at my place, I recounted the whole story, cross-examining K. like she was on the witness stand, assuming she'd either deny everything or blame me. To my surprise, not only did she profusely apologize, she admitted she had a "crush" on me, but she was afraid to act on it because I was massively out of her league (she was cute, but I can and have done better). We ended up having sex again and she stayed the night.
The next morning, I take K. back home. She's a total wreck, claiming she was a "shitty person" for cheating on the Cuck, saying that she loves him, that she wants him to propose to her but he never will because he knows how "shitty" she is, claiming she "hurt" me, and wishing she'd never been born. At one point, she tells me that me killing her would be less painful than facing him. I drop her off at her stop, say goodbye, and head back to the city.
Coincidentally, this was the same day that Return of Kings published my mega-viral article "[url= http://www.returnofkings.com/45334/5-rea...e-broken]5 Reasons Why Girls with Tattoos and Piercings Are Broken[/url]." This will become relevant later.
A few days later, I'm back in New York when I notice a bunch of comments on my blog from a guy claiming that I "raped" his "friend" and that he'll kick my ass if I come back to Chicago. I look up the guy's IP address: it leads right back to K.'s town.
I immediately text her demanding an explanation. She freaks out and claims she doesn't know what's going on. I ask her what she told the Cuck about what she was doing the night she stayed at my place. She says she didn't tell him anything because she "didn't want to drag the two of you into it." I still don't know what excuse she gave him for disappearing for a whole day and coming back hungover, bleary and missing her sweater and pantyhose, and I frankly don't want to know at this point.
Fast forward six months. After relocating to Chicago, I meet up with K. after half a year of barely talking to her. She tells me that not long after the ROK article went viral, the Cuck started claiming that I had raped her and was pressuring her to go to the police and charge me. When she refused, he had a retard junkie friend of his go around the Internet publicly accusing me of rape in an attempt to get Manboobz or another feminist blogger to turn it into a category five shitstorm, while informing all our mutual friends that I was a rapist in order to get them to pressure her. I didn't fully believe her until I found a text convo between them that confirmed it.
Just before I moved to Chicago, the Cuck had dumped K. in favor of a fat chick. He had apparently been cheating on her from day one of their relationship with fat girls he met off OKCupid, and claimed that he dumped her because of her refusal to charge me with rape, saying she was damaged goods. (The Cuck is also a male feminist. Go figure.)
K. claimed that at the time I met her, the Cuck was refusing to have sex with her at all, and her cheating shattered his perception of himself as a good boyfriend. My ROK article going viral drove it home. The Cuck realized that I'd accomplished far more than him at a younger age---he flunked out of high school because he smoked too much pot, he worked a shitty IT job and subsisted in part off of handouts from his parents, and he actually refused a job promotion because it would have cut into his video game time---and that he couldn't compete with me for K.'s affections.
K. also asserted that the few times the Cuck would fuck her, he was terrible in bed. He would lie on his back and make her do all the work until he was ready to come (which took about ten minutes). I'm not sure if I believe this, but it fits.
Before this all happened to me, I would have raised an eyebrow at the story AnonymousBosch kicked off this thread with. Having lived that kind of story---and having it consume nearly two years of my life---I don't sneer at shit like that anymore.
Gamma males are real, and the damage they can do is spectacular.
Having said all that, I don't feel bad for any woman who ends up in a gamma male's clutches, because they bring it on themselves. Case in point: K. and I are no longer speaking and our relationship flamed out near the end of 2015. A good portion of it was the difference in our respective SMVs: I could do better than her and she knew it, even admitting it at one point. But her mental problems and severe alcoholism also wrecked things.
K. flipped from telling me she was in love with me (and telling her sister I was her "best friend") to hating me and accusing me of being the source of all her problems in the span of a week. After several months of passive-aggressive Facebook posts calling me a "narcissist," she blocked me, claiming that I was "spreading rumors" about her.
Thing is, according to a mutual friend of ours, she's now dating a guy who is almost identical personality-wise to the Cuck. Her new beau tried to instigate a fight with said friend because he had the audacity to text K. about a project they were working on, while K. and her new beau were on vacation. This guy even looks like the Cuck, right down to the androgynous soy face and left-wing politics. K.'s boyfriend prior to the Cuck also fit the gamma male archetype (and also amusingly left her for a fat chick with huge tits).
My working theory is that there's a specific type of woman who's initially attracted to gamma males and narcissists because they want to "fix" them or otherwise help bring out their inner potential. After the reality of the gamma sets in, they realize they fucked up and seek a traditionally masculine man to give them what the gamma can't. Thing is, traditionally masculine men don't need a woman to "fix" them: they can handle their shit by definition. Said men also impose standards on women and don't tolerate their BS.
In my case, I didn't need anything from K., because I already had my life together. Whenever she got drunk, she'd wax regretful about how the Cuck had so much wasted potential; for example, she claimed he was a good musician, but he never once tried to book a show or compose an album. In the same breath, she'd praise me for being able to make a living as a writer at my young age and tell me that I was going to be a great novelist some day.
When this type of woman realizes that the masculine man doesn't need her to help get his life in order, she gradually withdraws from him and back towards the gamma male, who she can manipulate... at least until his unattractiveness sets in and the cycle begins all over again.
In K.'s case, she yo-yoed from having so much contempt for the Cuck that she wanted to sleep with me ten feet away from his bed (and after we'd known each other for maybe seven hours) to pushing me away because I was a "narcissist." Now she's shacked up with another gamma male who will end up burning her in the same fashion.
Thoughts?
As an aside, I recently recorded a subscription-only podcast with Davis Aurini, Daniel Friberg and Melissa Mészáros discussing gamma male psychology, our encounters with gamma males and how they tried to ruin our lives, and how to deal with them. You can get the episode for $0.99 below:
http://mattforneybooks.com/matt-forney-after-hours/
http://mattforney.com/matt-forney-show-episode-139/
https://www.patreon.com/mattforney
If you've got a blog/website, I'll give you a free copy if you're willing to review the podcast (you can make money through my affiliate program for each episode sold).