3 Things I Learned After Discovering Red Pill Truths Late In Life

I’m 39 years old. I first had sex at 17, in the midst of a Seinfeld-like competition with my buddies to see who would be the last to “lose it” and have to wear a yellow shirt with a V for virginity emblazoned on the front of it like a sexless Superman to high school. I didn’t lose, but I didn’t win either considering the physical attributes of the girl I fucked.

I was born with a very mild case of Cerebral Palsy. Think Walter Jr. from Breaking Bad, just to a lesser degree. I have some loss of fine motor skills, poor balance (friends who have tried to playfully tackle me have knocked me over unintentionally) and a blown-out lower lumbar region that required surgery last year to repair. Other than that I look good with my shirt off (gym 4x per week, now with core strengthening exercises), I’m intelligent enough to write an article for ROK, and am successful on my own terms.

It’s not that I wasn’t getting laid. I had a strange feeling that I was blowing good opportunities. When I don’t understand something or want to learn more, I read. I know nothing about plumbing. The men in my family aren’t particularly handy, preferring to “pay the experts” in most cases. I approached my sex life at middle age the same way I approached my toilet when my filler and flusher valves broke at the same time (I now know what these are)—I started reading.

The feeling I got after finding Roosh, ROK and the Rational Male can best be described as having my entire adult sexual life pass before my eyes with all the gory details intact.  The one-itis. The credit card bills and ATM receipts that showcased my ability to indulge a woman’s every whim. The sore balls encountered during expensive weekends at the beach. The relationships that ended months after they should have, without me knowing. The cheaters that attempted to reconcile with me.

I work in sales and I’m good at it. I enjoy following a process while seeking to understand the real drivers and motivations of my prospects. I firmly believe that everything in life is a sales transaction, including sex and dating. Your wife (I’m not married) wants sushi for dinner and you don’t? Better start selling. Your kid gives you an ugly tie for Christmas?  Think about how you would respond. The girl next to you at the bar was giving you IOIs but is now looking over your shoulder for her friends?  Were you really driving the interaction, or participating in it?

I think this is why I found some common red pill truths so easy to execute in such a short period of time.

1.  Go for no!

Several sales books have been written on this subject (see Jim Camp or David Sandler). This was the easiest way for me to learn to maintain my frame, because I was already doing it at work. Simply put, I lead the interaction, and either party can walk away at any time. It’s a test of interest level that cuts through the clutter and shows me if I have a live one on the hook. When she wants dinner at an expensive steak house over the weekend (unless I want steak), I’ll say I just ate steak and I’m not interested but I’m making chicken enchiladas and she’s welcome to come by with a bottle of wine or a six pack if she’s hungry. I’ve honestly never been told no since I started doing this.

A cool new popular bar opened right next to my condo—literally right outside my back door. Former beta me would have worried about the right “time” to bring the girl there. New, “non-natural alpha but learning the science of being more alpha” me requests that every first date drive to that bar to meet me.

Her:  Let’s go to new hot night spot and blow hundreds of dollars of your money while I rub on you so you get a feel of what I might do after four more dates.

Me:  Let’s go to new bar right by my house. After we’re done drinking, I can take you home and show you my sock collection. I have some very old pairs.

I’ve used this line word for word and have had the girl laugh and do just what I asked, and gotten laid. I said no to her. I gave her the chance to opt out. She opted in. End of story, deal closed.

2.  Always escalate.

I learned that a girl will never punish me for trying to fuck, but very well might punish me for NOT trying. I can’t count how many times I took a willing girl home to watch a movie – and watched the movie. I did a great job presenting myself as a boring, cookie cutter guy who was more that capable of killing any sexual desire the girl might have had while her buzz wears off. I was told by several girls over the years that I “wasn’t aggressive enough”  and I may not be. I don’t enjoy dominating women. The ones that ask to be choked out early on I usually won’t call back. But there’s no sense missing an easy lay-up with a girl I enjoyed being with because I didn’t seize the opportunity when it was there.

Now, I go home after dates in the middle of the day, take the girl by the hand and lead her to my room. We can always watch a movie after, and she can always say no.I fucked the last girl I did this with. I made my intentions clear and asked for the sale. I didn’t give her a chance to rationalize or think things over.

3.  Stop providing so much detail.

This was a big one for me, but also an easy bad habit to un-learn. Because I have a disability I often felt like I had to qualify myself to women in this regard. If a woman (who was probably asking because she was considering taking my seed in one way or another) asked me if “she could ask me something personal” (the usual lead in), or why I looked so stiff, I would launch into a detailed description of cerebral palsy and why I was predisposed to it (premature birth).

Even if a woman did put me on the “fucks” side of the alpha/beta equation, I was causing her to realize very quickly that I wasn’t likely to be the guy with the right genetics to give her kids who would be playing division one college football. Now I simply say, “my back is bad” and shut up. Since everyone on the planet knows someone who has had lower back issues if they don’t have them themselves, this simple statement accounts for my disability while giving it a kind of “social camouflage.” Could have been a sports injury… maybe I did it while skydiving. I went from kisses on the cheek to getting massage offers from girls who were very happy to pass on the jet skiing, which I can’t do anymore. Doctor’s orders.

This goes for work as well. Guess what? No girl I’m trying to fuck really cares what I do for a living. I learned this one because I worked for several start up software companies that never started up and ended up unemployed here and there over the last few years. I got more ass during this time because I had less to talk about. By explaining my complicated career to a girl in detail, I’m really qualifying myself to her in terms she can’t understand anyway. Nothing causes (in my experience) the moisture to dry up faster, although I didn’t know what I was doing at the time. I thought I was just making conversation. “I’m an IT consultant” is plenty, or even “I consult for businesses in the IT field” is good. She gets to tick her “he has a job that doesn’t involve shoveling dirt” box, and if she wants a dirt shoveler, I’m out anyway with little time invested.

The greatest thing I learned was really something I already knew—the truths of human psychology never change and can be easily exploited. I’m guessing that there are probably a lot of guys in my boat—they had the tools all along they just had no idea how to use them in a concise way. The best part has been the learning process itself, and my simply practicing it, I know I’m putting myself ahead of most of the “non-educated” guys out there.

Read More: Go For No