[Editor's note:
This is a true story. Some details have been changed.
Part 1 can be found here:
thread-51328.html
Part 2 can be found here:
thread-51334.html
Thanks for reading.]
“In the depths of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.” –Albert Camus
An Invincible Summer
The sun was out in full force, feeling warm on my face. Not a cloud in the sky. I was sitting outside at a bar with a cute blond girl, having a “deep conversation” about writing. I felt like I’d had this conversation before.
“So you want to be a writer?” I asked her. She wasn’t bad looking, and I could probably take her home, but I was bored. So very bored. I’d rather be home reading or in the woods hunting than chatting with her at a bar.
“I went to school for writing. It’s just, I don’t know what to write about. Or how I would even get started.”
“Why not start a blog?” I asked her, looking at my old Casio watch, which was more comfortable than the expensive one I’d bought last year. I’d had this same conversation with many “aspiring writers.”
“I dunno. I’ve never thought about it. I mean, what would I write about? What do you write about?” she asked.
“I just sit at the keyboard and bleed…” I told her, drifting off.
Most of my evenings were spent in bars approaching random women or on dates with women I’d met online. I’d grown tired of it, although I’d gotten proficient at it through practice, studying game, and debriefing with Chris. I was turning a good bit of dates into casual relationships, and had a decent amount of women in my life.
But I still felt empty.
Most of the dates started to feel the same. I was playing from a script rather than actually enjoying an evening with another human being. Shit test? Respond with canned line I found on Heartsie’s Crib Sheet of Game. Text message after the date? Respond with something short and ambiguous per McQueen and RooshV text game. IOI? Call her “babe”, escalate, and kino – straight Mystery Method. Maintain eye contact, open posture, ask feel good questions and don’t talk too much about yourself. Let it slip late and casually in the conversation about my career. “Let’s go have a glass of wine and watch a movie at my place a few blocks away.” I had it almost down to a science.
Game is more a matter of competence than confidence.
Dating had ultimately become more of a chore than something I enjoyed. Worse, dating was taking up most of my time, and a good bit of money. I was skipping gym sessions in favor of going on dates, and spending hours exchanging messages online. When I wasn’t working, I was either setting up dates, going on dates, going out to approach women, or reading about game.
Slowly I realized something. Between Erin and dating, women had become the center of my life. Everything I did was centered around meeting and attracting women.
Why was I doing this? Did I really need a woman to make my life meaningful?
I started asking myself bigger questions. Why was I so intent on meeting someone? Rather than game, I became interested in self improvement.
I started to focus my time on the things I actually enjoyed – building my business, going to Crossfit, developing wealth, shooting guns, hiking, hunting, traveling, learning, community activism, working on my house, riding my bike, reading, and writing. I became president of my neighborhood civic association, and well known around town for community activism. I ran a political campaign. I taught myself how to cook, because that seemed like something interesting to do. Cooking was something I could do for me, instead of taking dates out to fancy restaurants.
I got rid of my television. Often I would stay in and just read books and cook dinner for myself. If I went out, it was because I felt like spending time with someone for the sake of good conversation. I didn’t have to impress anyone.
Instead of going out to meet women or on dates, I started going out for myself. As I got more into my hobbies, my group of friends expanded without much effort. I took a real interest in getting to know people, too. My friends started to include people from all walks of life. Waitresses, chefs, real estate developers, strippers, business owners, MMA fighters, you name it. As my circle of friends started to expand, so did my business.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel like I was chasing something. I no longer needed validation from women. The only person I needed validation from was me.
Women started coming into my life organically, and sometimes by going out and approaching the ones I felt like talking to. Cold approaches no longer phased me. I had so many good looking female friends that talking to women wasn’t frightening anymore. And if I got rejected, so what? Her problem, not mine. My life would go on.
It became more a matter of who I wanted to keep in my life, rather than trying to attract new people into it. At 33 years old, I found myself the owner of a thriving business, a homeowner, and with little debt. My best years were still to come. Women no longer controlled my life, but sometimes they compliment it.
One summer afternoon I biked to the private swim club where I’m a member. When I arrive there, the hot waitress gives me a big hug and kisses my cheek. I know her socially. “Hank!!!!! The owner said to send you out a drink on the house. You look so cute with your hair all messed up!” I grin and wink at her, sipping on scotch.
Life is good.
I hadn’t thought about Erin in awhile until I bumped into one of her friends that afternoon. Megan, a friend of mine, pulls a chair up next to me, and we make light conversation:
“Why don’t you buy me a drink, Hank?”
“Your flirting needs work…” I respond out of habit, and continue reading my book.
“You jerk!” she says, and punches me on the arm.
“That’s Mister Jerk to you. Now go get me a scotch before I die of thirst.” Megan obliges and brings me over a drink. It’s funny how women like being told what to do.
“What are you doing, Hank?”
“Planning a vacation somewhere out of the country, maybe Vietnam.”
“So… you don’t talk to Erin anymore, do you?” she asks me, a bit off the cuff. I can tell she’s trying to probe me. Erin and Megan are friends.
“Nah. I haven’t spoken with Erin in over a year. Why do you ask?”
“I guess you didn’t hear? She got back together with her ex husband, and then they broke up again.”
“I’m sure she’ll meet someone cool and settle down.” I didn’t care. It’s her life to live however she wants. Just not something I want to be a part of.
“Oh, she did. She’s with Marcus now. They’re engaged, and she’s pregnant.”
“Huh? Marcus? Isn’t Marcus is married?” I could believe it. But I could.
“Yeah, I know, it’s crazy! Apparently Marcus left his wife for her. They’re buying a house together or something. Marcus said something about his soon to be ex-wife not wanting kids. I know Erin wanted kids soon. She’s 36 now. They’ve only been together for like three months. Isn’t that nuts? It’s kind of sad that Marcus had to sell the house in the divorce. I liked his place.”
“I mean, that’s cool I guess. Everyone deserves to be happy. And I like him. He’s a good guy. Decent job in insurance, nice house, knows sports. He’ll be a good father and loyal husband.”
“Between you and me, Hank, I think he’s kind of a pussy…” she says, grinning.
Laying poolside and sipping scotch, I start to think about everything. In another life, Erin would have moved into my house. Maybe we would have gotten married, had children, and even joint bank accounts. A few years ago I would have let that happen. In fact, at the time, that’s all I wanted.
A few days later, I get a text from Erin out of the blue asking if we could catch up. She must have talked to Megan. I don’t respond. That week, someone was knocking on my door. Erin showed up at my house unannounced. She is still pretty, but she looked her age at 36 and had gained a few pounds.
“Hey Hank. I was in your neck of the woods and figured I would stop by to say hi.” Except all the feeling was gone. She was just another girl.
“Can I come in?”
“I’m sort of in the middle of a something now.”
“Your work is more important than me, Hank? Don’t you miss me? It’s been so long.”
“Be well”, I said, and closed the door.
A couple of weeks later, Erin sent me an email saying “Hank, you’re being so immature. I thought you were better than that. I can’t believe you’re still mad at me!”
But I wasn’t mad at her. I mean, how could I be mad at her?
Erin broke my heart into pieces. But when all was said and done, she left me better than she found.
A better man. A free man.
This is a true story. Some details have been changed.
Part 1 can be found here:
thread-51328.html
Part 2 can be found here:
thread-51334.html
Thanks for reading.]
“In the depths of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.” –Albert Camus
An Invincible Summer
The sun was out in full force, feeling warm on my face. Not a cloud in the sky. I was sitting outside at a bar with a cute blond girl, having a “deep conversation” about writing. I felt like I’d had this conversation before.
“So you want to be a writer?” I asked her. She wasn’t bad looking, and I could probably take her home, but I was bored. So very bored. I’d rather be home reading or in the woods hunting than chatting with her at a bar.
“I went to school for writing. It’s just, I don’t know what to write about. Or how I would even get started.”
“Why not start a blog?” I asked her, looking at my old Casio watch, which was more comfortable than the expensive one I’d bought last year. I’d had this same conversation with many “aspiring writers.”
“I dunno. I’ve never thought about it. I mean, what would I write about? What do you write about?” she asked.
“I just sit at the keyboard and bleed…” I told her, drifting off.
Most of my evenings were spent in bars approaching random women or on dates with women I’d met online. I’d grown tired of it, although I’d gotten proficient at it through practice, studying game, and debriefing with Chris. I was turning a good bit of dates into casual relationships, and had a decent amount of women in my life.
But I still felt empty.
Most of the dates started to feel the same. I was playing from a script rather than actually enjoying an evening with another human being. Shit test? Respond with canned line I found on Heartsie’s Crib Sheet of Game. Text message after the date? Respond with something short and ambiguous per McQueen and RooshV text game. IOI? Call her “babe”, escalate, and kino – straight Mystery Method. Maintain eye contact, open posture, ask feel good questions and don’t talk too much about yourself. Let it slip late and casually in the conversation about my career. “Let’s go have a glass of wine and watch a movie at my place a few blocks away.” I had it almost down to a science.
Game is more a matter of competence than confidence.
Dating had ultimately become more of a chore than something I enjoyed. Worse, dating was taking up most of my time, and a good bit of money. I was skipping gym sessions in favor of going on dates, and spending hours exchanging messages online. When I wasn’t working, I was either setting up dates, going on dates, going out to approach women, or reading about game.
Slowly I realized something. Between Erin and dating, women had become the center of my life. Everything I did was centered around meeting and attracting women.
Why was I doing this? Did I really need a woman to make my life meaningful?
I started asking myself bigger questions. Why was I so intent on meeting someone? Rather than game, I became interested in self improvement.
I started to focus my time on the things I actually enjoyed – building my business, going to Crossfit, developing wealth, shooting guns, hiking, hunting, traveling, learning, community activism, working on my house, riding my bike, reading, and writing. I became president of my neighborhood civic association, and well known around town for community activism. I ran a political campaign. I taught myself how to cook, because that seemed like something interesting to do. Cooking was something I could do for me, instead of taking dates out to fancy restaurants.
I got rid of my television. Often I would stay in and just read books and cook dinner for myself. If I went out, it was because I felt like spending time with someone for the sake of good conversation. I didn’t have to impress anyone.
Instead of going out to meet women or on dates, I started going out for myself. As I got more into my hobbies, my group of friends expanded without much effort. I took a real interest in getting to know people, too. My friends started to include people from all walks of life. Waitresses, chefs, real estate developers, strippers, business owners, MMA fighters, you name it. As my circle of friends started to expand, so did my business.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel like I was chasing something. I no longer needed validation from women. The only person I needed validation from was me.
Women started coming into my life organically, and sometimes by going out and approaching the ones I felt like talking to. Cold approaches no longer phased me. I had so many good looking female friends that talking to women wasn’t frightening anymore. And if I got rejected, so what? Her problem, not mine. My life would go on.
It became more a matter of who I wanted to keep in my life, rather than trying to attract new people into it. At 33 years old, I found myself the owner of a thriving business, a homeowner, and with little debt. My best years were still to come. Women no longer controlled my life, but sometimes they compliment it.
One summer afternoon I biked to the private swim club where I’m a member. When I arrive there, the hot waitress gives me a big hug and kisses my cheek. I know her socially. “Hank!!!!! The owner said to send you out a drink on the house. You look so cute with your hair all messed up!” I grin and wink at her, sipping on scotch.
Life is good.
I hadn’t thought about Erin in awhile until I bumped into one of her friends that afternoon. Megan, a friend of mine, pulls a chair up next to me, and we make light conversation:
“Why don’t you buy me a drink, Hank?”
“Your flirting needs work…” I respond out of habit, and continue reading my book.
“You jerk!” she says, and punches me on the arm.
“That’s Mister Jerk to you. Now go get me a scotch before I die of thirst.” Megan obliges and brings me over a drink. It’s funny how women like being told what to do.
“What are you doing, Hank?”
“Planning a vacation somewhere out of the country, maybe Vietnam.”
“So… you don’t talk to Erin anymore, do you?” she asks me, a bit off the cuff. I can tell she’s trying to probe me. Erin and Megan are friends.
“Nah. I haven’t spoken with Erin in over a year. Why do you ask?”
“I guess you didn’t hear? She got back together with her ex husband, and then they broke up again.”
“I’m sure she’ll meet someone cool and settle down.” I didn’t care. It’s her life to live however she wants. Just not something I want to be a part of.
“Oh, she did. She’s with Marcus now. They’re engaged, and she’s pregnant.”
“Huh? Marcus? Isn’t Marcus is married?” I could believe it. But I could.
“Yeah, I know, it’s crazy! Apparently Marcus left his wife for her. They’re buying a house together or something. Marcus said something about his soon to be ex-wife not wanting kids. I know Erin wanted kids soon. She’s 36 now. They’ve only been together for like three months. Isn’t that nuts? It’s kind of sad that Marcus had to sell the house in the divorce. I liked his place.”
“I mean, that’s cool I guess. Everyone deserves to be happy. And I like him. He’s a good guy. Decent job in insurance, nice house, knows sports. He’ll be a good father and loyal husband.”
“Between you and me, Hank, I think he’s kind of a pussy…” she says, grinning.
Laying poolside and sipping scotch, I start to think about everything. In another life, Erin would have moved into my house. Maybe we would have gotten married, had children, and even joint bank accounts. A few years ago I would have let that happen. In fact, at the time, that’s all I wanted.
A few days later, I get a text from Erin out of the blue asking if we could catch up. She must have talked to Megan. I don’t respond. That week, someone was knocking on my door. Erin showed up at my house unannounced. She is still pretty, but she looked her age at 36 and had gained a few pounds.
“Hey Hank. I was in your neck of the woods and figured I would stop by to say hi.” Except all the feeling was gone. She was just another girl.
“Can I come in?”
“I’m sort of in the middle of a something now.”
“Your work is more important than me, Hank? Don’t you miss me? It’s been so long.”
“Be well”, I said, and closed the door.
A couple of weeks later, Erin sent me an email saying “Hank, you’re being so immature. I thought you were better than that. I can’t believe you’re still mad at me!”
But I wasn’t mad at her. I mean, how could I be mad at her?
Erin broke my heart into pieces. But when all was said and done, she left me better than she found.
A better man. A free man.
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