A few months after I moved to Atlanta following a bad breakup, I had coffee one morning with an older woman I’d known for quite a while to catch up on the goings on in our lives. We talked about all the usual ancillary topics—jobs, money, future plans etc.
Not long after we started talking she got a text from the guy she had been seeing on and off for a while (We’ll call him “Brandon”). She shook her head and put away her phone. We continued our conversation but “Pam” was visibly distracted on account of that text.
“Everything okay?” I asked her.
“As okay as it can be I guess,” she replied. “Brandon’s actin’ a fool again.”
“When’s he not?” I said with a faux chuckle. I’d known about her shenanigans with Brandon for years but she had never told me how they met. When I asked her, she relayed a story I would never forget.
Pam was raised in Baltimore by her grandparents who were the embodiment of old school traditionalists. They were God-fearing people and their lifestyle and house rules reflected it: no boys, no dates, no sex, and church on Sundays and Wednesdays. Of course Pam’s grandfather being the pastor at their church certainly helped facilitate her consistent attendance. But she always said that they’d have been there every Sunday whether gramps was the preacher or not.
Pam was a model student in school making straight A’s all through elementary, intermediate, and high school. She had plenty of motivation as her grandmother threatened “whoopins” if she ever brought home any B’s. Granny kept her in line and made damn sure her granddaughter didn’t fall prey to the temptations that would most assuredly undo all the hard work she put in keeping Pam safe.
One evening, toward the end of her senior year in high school, Pam’s grandparents had a family they had known for years over to their house for dinner. Among them was their 18 year old son, “D.J.” who was also in his last year of high school.
D.J. was a respectful young man who was handsome and smart. He would be joining the Army soon after graduation and though Pam had no idea at the time, there was the purpose of this get together. The plan was for D.J. and Pam to marry and this was the first of a few meetups for them to get acquainted with one another before they said their vows.
Pam admitted that she was absolutely smitten by D.J. She’d never kissed or even held hands with a boy much less have a boyfriend, yet here was this handsome young man in her house taking interest in her. A week after graduation Pam and D.J. were married and a month later D.J. was shipped off to boot camp. Everything was going according to plan and life couldn’t be better.
Over the next few years Pam and D.J. had five children together. As was always the case with military families they moved around quite a bit but according to Pam they loved it. For a young couple who had rarely (if ever) been outside of Baltimore, it was exciting to travel and see the world.
Like any married couple they had their disagreements and arguments but by and large, things were going well. The family was well taken care of by the military, all of their children were healthy, and D.J. was in the process of switching branches and joining the Air Force which ensured a secure and stable lifestyle for years to come…
…until one night a raucous argument lead to D.J. asking Pam: “Do you even want to be married anymore?” To which Pam answered: “I don’t know…..”
Things were tense over the next few months until Pam finally decided she no longer loved her husband and soon after they were separated. D.J. stayed in New Jersey (he was stationed at McGuire Air Force base at the time) while Pam took her five young children and moved to Washington state where she had a number of friendships she developed while stationed at Fort Lewis.
“It felt like the world had opened itself up to me,” Pam told me at this point in her story. “D.J.’s the only man I’d ever been with so it was kind of exciting to see what else was out there for me.”
Unbeknownst to her she now had a ticket for a popular carnival ride that her fellow military wives had been raving about for years.
Pam jumps on the carousel
“I never had problems getting dates,” said Pam. “I had just turned 26 and I was still thin so men came on to me all the time.”
“But you had five kids,” I said. “Didn’t that ever scare guys away?”
“No, not really. I mean there were guys I would date for a couple weeks who never even knew I had children and then there were a couple I felt comfortable enough to bring around. But being a single mother of five never worked against me as far as dating was concerned.”
Pam regaled me of stories of guy after guy she’d “dated” since being separated. The dreamy look she had on her face during the revelations of her escapades was telling. Obviously her prospects these days weren’t as plentiful on account of her being way past The Wall at this point but it was easy to see that she had the time of her life in those days.
Meanwhile, D.J. was sending money every month to make sure his children were being taken care of. Even still, it wasn’t nearly enough for a single mother of five and eventually Pam had to get on welfare.
“Those were tough times,” she said. Her dreamy look had vanished. “I used to think about the great life we had living on base but now six of us were crammed into a small apartment in a bad part of town and barely getting by.”
Pam’s saving grace came in the form of a call from D.J., who told her he had been promoted and was being stationed in Hawaii for the next four years.
“That was all I needed to hear,” she said. “I told him I wanted to reconcile and he didn’t waste any time getting us out there.”
According to Pam, life on Hickam Air Force Base was like a dream. Tropical weather year-round, a half hour drive to any beach on Oahu, and her husband’s higher pay made the transition back to military life very easy. She even opened up an in-home day care center which further bolstered the family finances.
Like before, Pam made fast friends with the other military wives. They’d have cookouts, get together to play cards, have Tupperware parties, and anything else you can thank of as far as female bonding goes. But she quickly noticed there was an undercurrent of malcontent and before long the other wives started telling tales of their own.
“When we’d all get together, they would tell me about how and when they cheated on their husbands while they were on assignment overseas, working crazy shifts, or any time they got a chance,” Pam said with her dreamy look making its way back onto her face. “And I have to admit, the stories they told were just so exciting! I felt guilty but I always loved hearing about their wild affairs.”
After a while, Pam finally succumbed to the peer pressure.
“Some of my girlfriends invited me to the Officer’s club* and D.J. was working nights at that time so as far as I was concerned it was just going to be harmless fun.”
*On military bases, there are Officer’s clubs and Non Commissioned Officers clubs (also known as an N.C.O. club). The Officer’s clubs are for Officer’s only such as Captains, Majors, Lieutenants, etc. while N.C.O. clubs are for lower ranking personnel like Airmen, Sergeants, etc. The Military separates Officer’s from N.C.O.s to avoid conflicts of interest, among other things.
Pam said she could remember that night like it was yesterday: “We were all at the bar and this short, muscular guy walks right up to me and says ‘C’mon, we’re gonna dance.'”
She said his approach surprised her so she gave him a witty reply to “scare him away” (read: shit test): “I’m sorry, I don’t follow strange men onto a dance floor.”
Pam says he put his hand around her waist, pulled her in, looked her right in the eye and said: “That’s cool—but tonight, you’re gonna follow me.”
“At that very moment I knew my marriage was over,” Pam said with a regretful look on her face.
She went on to tell me that Brandon was from Detroit and had a tough childhood. He was raised by his mother who was always working multiple jobs to support him and his brothers. It was the typical hard luck case of an inner city kid without a father.
Brandon joined the Air Force after getting arrested for breaking and entering back when he was twenty years old. The Judge gave him a choice: Go to jail, or join the military. He made the obvious choice and it served him better than he expected. Brandon’s street smarts combined with his focus allowed him to consistently rise through the ranks and after ten years of service and hard work, he became a 2nd Lieutenant….an Officer.
I hadn’t discovered the manosphere at this point, but based on what Pam was telling me, I instinctively knew that Brandon was more attractive than D.J. in every way. Post-neomasculine renaissance, I now understand why Pam eventually ended her marriage to be with this guy.
That fateful night was the beginning of the end of Pam’s marriage and ultimately her chance at happiness. Over the next two years she carried on an affair with Brandon which resulted in two abortions, endless drama, and D.J. moving into one of the other bedrooms.
Eventually she filed for divorce and left Hawaii with Brandon (who had retired from the Air Force) to live in Detroit.
“I’d taken care of the kids on my own the first time we separated and I felt like it was D.J.’s turn,” Pam explained. “Besides, an Air Force Base in Hawaii in a lot safer than Detroit.”
When D.J.’s assignment on Hickam was up, he was stationed in Oklahoma. Further north, Pam’s life with Brandon was anything but stable. He’d developed a crack addiction (though Pam suspects he may have picked up the habit shortly before retiring from the military), couldn’t hold down a job, and treated her like shit.
Over the next few years they would have a torrid on-again-off-again relationship and the dance was always the same: he’d charm her into getting back with him promising to change, she’d take the bait, put it up with it for a little while, and then leave again. Rinse and repeat.
Pam simply could not get Brandon out of her system and proof of that was written all over her face in this small coffee house in Atlanta almost thirty years later as she read another text from him that had just come as her story drew to a close.
“Well I’m gonna get going,” I said standing up and stretching. “That trail isn’t gonna ride itself.” I bent over and kissed her on the cheek and told her I loved her.
“Love you too, Donovan.”
Wait a minute…it sounds like “Pam” is…
…none other than Mama Sharpe—my own mother.
For years my siblings and I had a very strained relationship with our mother (a couple of them still do) because of her selfish actions. Her decisions back then still have a profound effect on all of us. Even after this conversation I was still a little resentful, but being in my early thirties afforded me the maturity to bury the hatchet.
Sure, I’d been through some tough times but never once did I blame it on my divorced parents. Even as a “purple pill” beta I still knew blaming my bad decisions on my childhood was a cop out. After all, she is my mother and I’ll always love her no matter what.
But I didn’t completely and wholly forgive her until I found the manosphere. We have so thoroughly and accurately dissected female nature that their irresponsible and reckless behavior doesn’t surprise us anymore. In fact we’ve come to expect and even exploit it with game.
Does this absolve my mother for blowing up our family to chase after a bad boy? Not a chance. Biological differences notwithstanding, men and women alike are born with a fundamental understanding of the difference between right and wrong. This is why females engage in epic hamstering to assuage their guilty consciences—my mom included.
But now that I know how females operate and what makes them tick, I understand her motivations.
These days Miss Sharpe lives in North Carolina where she keeps herself occupied with my nieces and nephews—her grandchildren. I’m happy that it gives her a measure of fulfillment and happiness, but that’s still a far cry from male companionship.
It breaks my very soul that she is alone in the sense that she doesn’t have a husband and that after all these years she still bares the scars of her poor choices. This woman brought me into this world and regardless of her mistakes, I still want her to be happy and loved. But the red pill in me will never stop telling me that she made her bed and now she’s got to lay in it.
If this story doesn’t convince you that feminism destroys lives, nothing will. If it can turn a commodity as rare as a virgin bride into a raging slut in no time flat, there is positively no hope for females steeped in this sewage from birth. Get this through your thick skulls: All Women Are Like That. Including the ones related to us.