Wrote this some time around October/November '16, but felt it was too personal and awkward to share. However, it is part of the explanation for the hiatus, so here you are.

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So it happened again.

Although you were prepared this time, the first since the last of many previous ones. At least you thought so.

Again, she chose some loud-mouthed, vulgar, primitive, boisterous, whoremongering bad boy arsehole over the romantic, empathic, gentle, geeky, creative and awkward nerd you are.

Not that you really had any high hopes to begin with. But still it hurts, yet: why – it shouldn't, with all the experience you have with this game?!

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A few years earlier, you had stumbled over the term PUA – "pick-up artist" – and first with revulsion and disgust, but increasingly with scientific curiosity, studied the hypotheses laid out by the "Dark Enlightenment" and MGTOWs ("men going their own way"). Despite the blatant misogyny and racism of Chateau Heartiste, some of the arguments actually resonated deeply with the vast body of experience you have already assembled in your young life.

You cringed each time you read the description of how women (and men!) perceive and treat "betas", lower-ranking males, whose description fit you perfectly on all accounts. "Biochemistry is God", they said, and it made all the sense in the universe. "Eggs are expensive, sperm is cheap", they said, and suddenly all the puzzle pieces fell into place. Logically, and confirmation bias more than accounted for. Cognitive dissonance, the "splinter in the back of your head", made the conditioning of your earliest childhood felt.

And despite your sacred vow to always remain a romantic, gentle, geeky and creative nerd, to stay true to yourself, to not treat people you love like dirt just to establish and defend your social rank and SMV ("sexual market value"), you started to test some of these hypotheses in experiment.

You started "negging" girls you liked, offensively initiated conversation instead of looking away with red ears, even shyly tried some "kino" here and there. A few of them seemed to like the more assertive, aloof and dominant version of "you" which you carved and chiseled out of the doltish, self-defeating, shy, earlier "you" used to listening to the inner voice "you can't do that, you can't do that, you can't do that"...

One female in particular seemed to respond to your intentionally ambiguous signs of affection. She wasn't really, really your type, maybe a 5-6 even by objective standards, but easy on the eye and definitively not something you have to hide in the closet when you have friends over. But she was witty, intelligent, funny and laughed at your jokes, reciprocated your small and escalating signs of affection, so you enjoyed to invite her over. You made sure to listen, not to talk too much, to keep your mobile messages always shorter than hers were, to reward her intermittently with little compliments and punish her immediately by furrowing your eyebrows when she "misbehaved".

And she misbehaved often. Flirted with your friends in your presence to probe your reactions. Often made allusions to all the experience she already had with men. And you knew the technical term for that – "shit test" – so you put on your best "alpha smirk" and passed each of them.

Thusly, you managed to deflect even the biggest insults she threw at you and stayed aloof, as immovable as a rock in the surfs of the deepest oceans. You were even a little surprised at yourself, and so was she, and got curious just when you had decided that this is not the sort of female one should want to plan his life with. Have her along, of course, but you are cured of the illusion that such a woman could ever be seriously considered "relationship" or even "marriage material". The ocean of a million red flags as defined by "the red pill" waved before you, and you took care to heed the warning this time.

You had many deep, philosophical talks, opened your hearts, you shared your views on love and sex and the way it is meant to be and despite many differences discover that it has all the potential for a sweet, casual affair at least; a friendship with mutual benefits.

And already, friends and colleagues rumor you are a pair, and both of you go along for the fun of it, you just call it an "open relationship", "as long as she doesn't bring any guys home".

You figured that even if you never got into her panties, it would be a win-situation for you. That she would raise your energies, boost your confidence, do you good, be your sparring partner in preparation for the girl you are going to meet one day, and that you could do the same for her, as she was self-conscious about her little breasts and constantly asked you for your opinion on which hairstyle to wear or which tattoo to prick next. You become friends, but this time, you are careful not to become a "beta orbiter", or her "gay friend", or to end up in the "friend zone". You always "left the pot on the boiler", and indeed, one day she complained about her sore shoulder and after a lot of feigned reluctance you finally gave in and agreed to massage her.

She moaned in extasy, purred like a cat, melted in your hands – and regularly came back for more.

You were of course too smart already to let yourself abused in such a way and insisted on reciprocity. That she never upheld her part of the deal (let us say some good food every now and then for each week of massage), that she miraculously never had back aches again after two weeks of intense massages and her feeble excuse to skip the first paymend raised another small red flag, but what the hell.

You got to touch a girl. It's something, isn't it?

Then the day came when somehow she asked that "Chad Thunderfuck" to give her a back rub, and damn, did he do his job well. She screamed in pain and laughed at the same time as he handled her roughly, pushed and pulled, twisted her head this way and that way, choked her to "set her neck" (he, unlike you, did not know or care she suffered from a disc prolapse). When she weakly complained, he gave her a slap and said "fuck off, go home then", when she leaned back to pacify him, he continued to assert his dominance in the vilest and most primitive ways – the ways only a "natural alpha" could: treating her like a piece of meat.

It was then that you knew what was going to happen, and it took only a few days until friends told you they were smooching and cuddling in public.

You saw them together the next day on a completely unrelated occasion, you greeted him as the old friend he was and noticed she did her best to evade eye contact with you.

And only a week later, they let themselves be invited, as a couple, to a BBQ by another couple they both only knew thanks to you. Needless to say that you never were asked to join.

And during that BBQ, she sent you this silly SMS:

"How are you? I thought you wouldn't greet me anymore."

You thought quick. You knew what her game was now. She needed your approval, at least formally. You could have denied her that, only to make her feel bad, but do you really want to burn the bridge? How do you not come across as defensive?

"Why would you think that?",

you ask back.

"You reacted only the third time."

Oh, that. She was, after all, sitting in a car, in daylight, and you could impossibly have seen her shy handwave through the reflection of the windshield; it was only because a friend noticed and alerted you that you might be the addressee.

"For me, it was the first time",

you responded, truthfully, and took a note that her bad conscience could explain such a reproach. She could just have gotten out of the car and greeted you as she always did. Instead, she attempted to manipulate you into a defense position. Officially, you didn't even know what was going on – you heard it only through the grapevine.

"Ah okay. How are you?",

she tested, and just when you decided to ignore that one – you safely could, because you always dropped such nonsensical, babbling conversations like a hot iron – she added

"When will you be at [the venue you met regularly]?"

"At 11 am",

you responded, again truthfully. You are there almost every morning, but on the weekends, they don't open until 10 or 11.

"I'll try to make it",

she answered.

So you were there at 10:30, waited until 1:00 pm, drinking one coffee after another, rummaging your brain for things to say, how to react, respectively, to the different opening scenarios you expect her to confront you with, whether in his presence or that of all your mutual friends or in a private talk, how to turn this whole misery into your favor, conduct damage control and cut all possible losses. Maybe even goad her into admitting her bad conscience and her true love for you.

As so often when you had an appointment, she didn't show up; or maybe she did, just even later than usual.

What would you have said anyway?

Validate her by saying how happy you are for both of them, how you wish them the best from the bottom of your heart, that it totally seems like they were born for each other? How glad you are that, despite her repeated allegation that she never has fallen in love, this finally proves she does have it in her? Give her a good feeling about treating you like a piece of crap? Even if you were "just friends", it would have been considered good practice to at least share her joy with you.

Hurt her back, just a little, by pointing out that you never wanted anything from her anyway, that you thought all was clear from the onset - that it was just a game you both were playing? Feign complete surprise at her insinuation that you might somehow be hurt or *gasp* jealous? You were just friends, right? Since when is she telling you about her fuckbuddies anyway? Have you ever asked about her escapades? No! So why should you care now?

Pour out your heart in the hope that she changes her mind? Ask how she could fall for his flashy straw fire after you have given her so many peeks of the burning hot, glowing embers you have hidden deep in your heart? Warn her that he is going to pump and dump her just like he does with all the other girls, that, as soon as normality has sunk in, he will mistreat and abuse her, force her into submission, dependency and sexual slavery instead of making her the queen of his heart as you would have done?

You already know better than that, they will stay together for years and live a happy life, have a perfect relationship against all odds, because they do make a sweet couple and that is what happened all the times before you knew what "negging" is and your crushes ran off with random arseholes after one evening – and after months of your cautious and careful treading.

You are an analytical person, a reflective person.

Be lucky. You dodged a bullet. Had you come together, she would have cheated on you or left you sooner or later anyway, and your heartbreak would have been much worse. Yeah sure, at least you'd have gotten a bang out of it, but honestly: is that really worth it? Of course not. You'd have fallen in love like a stupid beta, and your heart would have plunged from a much greater height.

You should actually buy Chad Thunderfuck a beer for ridding you of that witch that constantly wiggled her ass in front of your nose but hissed each time you came too close. She would have had you on the hook for years, and you wouldn't have gotten anywhere.

You are one lucky bastard. You dodged a bullet aimed straight at your heart – again!

But why does it hurt so, then?, you ask again.

It is called pain, my friend, and it is a powerful trick of nature – of your soul and body – to tell you something is wrong, that you are doing something wrong, urging you to change something about your environment, actions or behaviour. ASAP.

So here is the name of your problem: "oneitis". Here is its definition: you threw all your attention and heart after the first girl that reacted to your "fake it till you make it" pseudo-alphadom. And despite better knowledge, you became complacent and masochistically content with the way things are going, instead of keeping your eyes open for other girls and test and hone your PUA skills, bring them home and bang them silly. Here is your solution: go out, speak to girls, befriend them, have a good time.

And when you meet "her" again, look her straight in the eye and put up that insufferable, arrogant "alpha smirk". She knows it was a dumb and irrational decision to make and will try to justify and rationalize. Just listen, but don't really care. It was her decision, and you have given the best you could to help her come to a better one. If that was not enough, she never was the right woman anyway, so on the search goes – the hunt is better than the catch. And now your resources are freed again for the pursuit of hotter booty – so where really is the harm? She did you a favor.

Thank her for the beautiful time.

Wish her the best for the future.

Walk away like a man, back and shoulders straight – as if your body were merely attached to your penis, which goes ahead to lead the way.

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a few years ago, all of this would have reduced me to a crying, heartbroken, jealous heap of shit scheming ways to exact "revenge"...

...but this time, I took one "MGTOW" advice to heart. Lift!

亀

By nature, I am an ectomorph and extremely skinny, and years of sitting in front of a computer screen did not actually help my fitness and posture. I constantly had back and neck pain, my joints made funny noises, sometimes I woke up and couldn't move my head at all and it took the whole day until it subsided to a bearable, subconcious minimum. Somewhere deep inside, I had already made friends with the thought that I will soon simply fade away...

...so some time during this whole episode, I made a conscious decision: to live.

亀

Lifting weights or doing push-ups simply was not an option. I never was and never will never be a strongman. My strength lies in stamina, not in power, and that was what I was going to train. The warrior name given to me by my tribe is "Long Breath", and it was time to live up to it again.

The first day, I took a long walk, with many breaks which I used for small meditations, purging my ego and selfish desires to open my higher self for what I really need (if you forgive the eso-speak and know what I mean; I just sat there and enjoyed the sun and the wind and the clouds and the trees of the forest without thinking of anything at all, and any thought that occured, I laughed away as inconsequential and petty in the grand, universal scheme of things). Even in walking, I made a conscious effort of keeping my back straight, the shoulders back, had to experiment with different gaits even to see which work best with that "unusual" (for me) posture. Most importantly, I watched my breath, breathed in the clear Âtma/Odem/Chi and breathed out all the poison and demons that have accumulated in my cells.

The next days, I took longer and longer walks – but with 500 gram cuff weights on wrists and ankles; and with less and less breaks.

I tidied up my flat, brought my kitchen and my fridge in order, and instead of regarding the preparation of food as a waste of time keeping me away from the keyboard, and instead of gulping it down while watching stupid YouTube videos, I took my time cooking healthy meals and enjoyed eating them in the kitchen.

亀

Instead of pressing F5 on reddit.com/all or steemit.com/trending when I felt bored, I started my randomized mp3 playlist at full volume, got up and cleaned my apartment dancing and singing.

Even when I just walked into town to buy my groceries, I made it an exercise to keep my back straight.

I made a silly experiment, eating mostly fruit for a few weeks. Without making any conscious effort, I gave up my smoking habit over a weekend and replaced it with a raisin habit.

I enlisted in a Taiji Quan course and learned how to move.

亀

After a few weeks, I noticed I could do a push-up, even two in a row. I bought 2x5kg weights and carried them over the nearby mountains. I bought a 10kg weight west and carried it over the mountains too. I printed out a picture of the "turtle hermit" Master Roshi and hung it on my wall. I started doing simple exercises.

I'm feeling better now.

亀

Last week, to my own surprise, I defeated a friend – tall as me, but twice the weight and strength – in arm wrestling. It took forever, none of us making any meaningful progress. Suddenly, he gave up. Stamina won the day.

tl;dr

Lift!

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