I’ve kept a journal for almost ten years. Unlike a girl’s journal—which tends to ramble on about how she was feeling at a particular moment—mine is primarily a factual, narrative document. That’s not to say it’s icy and unfeeling, but that it’s chiefly a record of my everyday life punctuated with the occasional rumination.
Writing in a journal is an exercise in deferred gratification. At the time, you see little value in writing stuff that’s just happened. Events seem trivial and therefore pointless to record or, alternatively, so memorable that you swear you won’t forget it. Both are false. I’m repeatedly shocked and entertained by my quotidian past—little details or entire events I forgot happened.
I’m also struck by the broader arc of my mental development. And I don’t mean in an intellectual sense. I mean that—if you look at the big picture—I’ve become more red-pill with every passing year. Those early entries are astoundingly blue-pill, that is, subscribing to the myths foisted onto men about relationships, masculinity, and the nature of women by society. “Taking the red pill” is essentially rejecting those tenets as either obsolete relics of a halcyon past or outright lies told to us for sake of social control. In either case, I kind of miss that bluer-pill version of me. Life was simpler and neater for that guy, even if it was deluded.
The red-pill me, the man who stands before you, enjoys all of the benefits of having swallowed the red pill many times over. But, he also suffers the consequences—as does every man who’s takes it.
Literature like this website represents a minuscule fraction of the messaging available to men about lifestyle, relationships, and masculinity. Its readership is but a tiny minority of men in the West. Even when you account for the non-readers who harbor our sensibilities, red-pill men is small, and diminishing, group. This often results in an alone-in-a-crowded-room feeling for a lot of guys since, bereft of the type of male commiseration that was a matter of course a generation or two ago, we experience extended periods of isolation.
Don’t Enjoy Movies, TV Shows, Or Commercials As Much
An overwhelming amount of media today is geared toward women and beta males. Whatever side you take in the chicken-and-egg debate about whether the media is responsible for creating this milieu, or whether it’s simply a product of the prevailing social currents, red-pill men are constantly bombarded with depictions of emasculated men, masculine women, and general male-bashing. Things that were once enjoyable, like Superbowl commercials, become cringe-worthy or infuriating. Things that were barely tolerable before, like chick flicks, become absolute torture.
Excitement About Girls Short-Lived Or Non-Existent
One of the first things to go is your affection and admiration for women. This is caused by a two-fold process. Learning about game (a key element of the red-pill universe) makes you increasingly successful with them. This success carries an attendant de-mystifying effect that renders you increasingly inured to the joys of their affections. Another, more insidious, force is learning about the true nature of women. The more you scratch off the innocent-girl veneer, the more you recognize women as inherently deceptive, manipulative, and selfish. Sure, you learn to exploit this to your benefit, but further the vicious downward spiral in the process.
You Have To Self-Censor
Despite your growing knowledge about the nature of relationships, women, and the world, you learn that it’s best to keep your mouth quiet about it, lest you disturb the placid existence of your blue-pill neighbors or, god forbid, offend one of their female enablers. Most red-pill guys learn this lesson the hard way—trying to talk a sexless friend into the light or publicly slapping down delusional assertions from a vocal feminist. The resolute push-back, insults, and other social consequences are enough for them to say “fuck ‘em” and keep to themselves.
Given a 100 chances, I would take the red pill 100 times. I think most guys on this side of the fence would do the exact same thing. But, like any major life revelation, you can’t un-look behind that curtain.
Read More: All Girls Are Spoiled Children