This is the second of three parts. Part I is here. Part III coming VERY soon–this time I promise not to make you wait as long.
I am impressed and pleased with the online community often known as the Manosphere. I feel privileged to be a part of it. Thus far, my comments on other sites have had more impact than my posts here at AIA, but I’m new at this. My site is still young. I have a lot to say, I need only the time to say it.
Members of this community have made me laugh and given me insights. I’ve pumped my fists in triumph for successes I’ve never seen in person. I’ve almost punched walls on behalf of guys who’ve suffered injustices in places I don’t even know exist. Some of what I’ve read has hit me like a 2X4 to the forehead, other times a thought developed hundreds of miles away (Boston? Calgary?) penetrates my thick skull over the course of three days and changes part of how I live my life.
Folks with enormous talent and insight like the Three R’s and so many others take precious time out of their lives to help those of us out who haven’t quite gotten it yet. Commenters expand on other commenters’ ideas. An Australian helps out a Canadian, who changes it up a bit resulting in some guy in Iowa landing, and keeping, a phenomenal girlfriend.
And the vast majority of these men remain, for all practical purposes, completely anonymous. I could shoot pool with one of them here in town and have no idea that we’ve both commented on the same posts on the same sites.
And that is why we’re not yet as effective as we could be. We need to turn this incredible “ONLINE community” into more of an “online COMMUNITY.” We need to find each other, to sarge together, to hold each other accountable, and to tell each other that our sweaters looks like shit. We are all more than screen-names.
Hence, the Dead Beta Society.
Glenn Reynolds perfectly describes what to become in the title of his book Army of Davids, each of us fighting Goliath in his own way. Sometimes Goliath is the way our girlfriend is starting to take us for granted, other times he’s the family courts, or maybe he’s the old friend who’s worried about how we’re starting to view women so “disrespectfully.” He’s always the Matrix. One man at a time, many of us are beating him. Some of us have beaten him so soundly that we’ve made our lives what they should be, we’re living our Mission and have become who we are.
But some of us aren’t. As Unending Improvement points out, after swallowing the Blue Pill, life can get “MUCH MUCH harder”. I have no idea how many men slip back into the safe comfort of the plugged-in pod, but however many there may be, any is too many. It’s hard enough to unplug somebody in the first place. Let’s not let that effort to go to waste.
That twenty-eight year old dude in Oregon approaching a beautiful girl for the first time in his life is trying to become the man he was born to be, he’s fighting to be the type of man we need more of. He therefore fights my fight, our fight, and ten minutes into battle his head and heart may be reeling from the worst scowl he’s ever seen. On his own, he may or may not get back up. If he knows he’s not alone, he’s got a better chance. The fight is always his, but his success is our success. If he fails, so do we.
To steal from Reynolds again, we are a pack, not a herd. We have different talents, battles, interests, goals, skill levels, and locations. Some of us have the relationship stuff down and care more about society, some couldn’t give a rats ass about politics. But we need to find each other, make the relationships we form in the Manosphere more tangible.
If Roissy has three readers at the University of Indiana who would make great wingmen for each other, how would any of them ever know? Maybe some guy in Dallas would be more than willing to drive to Austin for the weekend to get some tips if he had any damn clue that there were guys there who’d put him up for the night and take him out to 5th Street.
Perhaps you don’t need any help in person, but last Saturday you promised yourself you would do ten approaches no matter what. The first girl’s boyfriend was twenty feet away and blocked you straight off. The second time your approach almost became a conversation, but for some reason she magically transformed into a bitch. The third one crushed you, a 7.5 who made you feel like a 0.0. You know you need to get used to, refuse to fear, and ultimately defeat this feeling, but not tonight. So, you make small talk with the bartender, give up when she gets too busy, do three shots, and come home.
But what if you knew that the next day somebody you respected was going to seek you out, to call you and give you hell if you didn’t do your ten approaches? What if that same guy would talk you out of giving up on this whole Red Pill thing, even if you got ten metaphorical kicks to the groin? What if he’d listen to you describe what you did and tell you where you might have gone wrong? Would you have been more likely to stick it out? Wouldn’t you work like hell next time, doing whatever you could just to be able to tell the guy who had your back that it worked, that you had a serious make-out session with a blonde so pretty it made your eyes hurt?
“I’ve never even made eye contact with a chick that hot before. She’s out of my league!”
“Fuck that. Is she in your league? Remember spinning plates, so text that brunette, too. But here’s what you do next with the blonde.”
Right now, you can announce on a comment board or forum that you’ve set a goal, and if you don’t reach it, you can just vanish and show up again two weeks later with a different name, or never show up again at all. Cowardly? Yes. Sometimes we’re all cowards. Sometimes it takes other men to turn cowards into heroes.
Too many of us grew up without effective fathers or other male role models. Our coaches, friends, uncles, brothers, teachers, and ministers have let us down. Sometimes they were too plugged-in, sometimes we were thick-headed ourselves, but too often they didn’t even try. This leaves a hole and makes things harder later in life. We become complacent, we give up too early, we focus on today’s pain instead of tomorrow’s glory because we nobody taught us how to be men.
It’s time to fill that void, to become the big brothers, teachers, coaches, and trainers we never had. Online we’re off to a great start, but it’s just a start.
We don’t need to confine ourselves to profound personal issues and mentorship. If you want to stage a counter-protest to feminists in Madison, five PUA’s in Milwaukee might see that as a good excuse to hang out for the week-end. We could provide business networking, workout advice, personal finance, and fashion advice within a Red Pill context. If you’re writing a screenplay about single-motherhood that slaps the Matrix upside the head, is your creative writing group going to provide constructive feedback? What if the some NCAA cheerleading championship is coming to your city next weekend? You’re going to Phoenix on business next weekend and want to know where to go out. Looking for a workout partner? A good bass player?
We need a network dedicated to men living their lives to the fullest. A pack, not a herd. Us, strengthening this generation and creating more of us to give hope to the next. Fighters, players, friends. The resistance.
The Dead Beta Society.