Chad's Road to Alpha

I know, I know. I said at the end of that last U-man post I’d just leave a comment, but the damn thing got too long.

Unrelated (but in the title) if you haven’t put it together yet from the facebook posts I’ve copied and pasted, my real name is Chad.

Considering I’ve posted it before, and post pictures… Not a huge deal. But god damn. That feels good.

 

 

Alpha Action, Beta Soul

If ever there was a way to camp, shoot guns, hunt, fish, ski, wrestle, be an Eagle Scout, play soccer, play baseball, play bass guitar, and be an actor in theatre…. Well, I found it.

Yes.There are  Beta ways to do those.

Yes, beta ways for all of them.

And yes, I found every. single. one.

My father traveled for work constantly. Which meant my mom raised me and decided to do so in a feminine manner. Then between freshman and sophmore year of high school my parents got divorced.  Instead of feminine during the week, masculine on weekends, it was feminine 90% of the time due to my fathers work schedule between ‘scheduled’ visitation and his required travel for work.

So, while I still enjoyed all those activities  my mom slowly poisoned me against the desire to actually compete, strain, or stress myself. Instead I applied myself to advanced classes, art, and reading – though always with at least two or three of the ‘masculine’ activities on the side. I didn’t understand that the feminine perspective was poisoning me to the activities I loved, simply that I resenting the conflict between the desire for competition I had bred in me and the detesting of it I was taught. I also got a wonderful first hand perspective on all the negatives to a man’s wallet divorce unfairly forces, as well as my fathers happy second marriage and my mother single to this day. With everything going on there, it probably won’t be any surprise to any man here that I started practicing escapism – in video games, reading, music, hobbies, everything. The one thing that steadied me through high school is that I became active in my church’s youth group, choir, and other activities.

Between school and extra-curricular activities I did every single damn thing in my power to have a reason not to be home till 10 pm.

 

Early Scars

A few times in elementary school, I had the unfortunate luck to have the bad combination of Alpha asshole at times and beta schlub at others. A few notable (hot) older sisters of friends mentioned that I’d be a perfect catch for them in a few years as long as I remained nice. A peck on the check or on the lips, and I had enough early fantasies to last me months.

Those lying bitches.

Sadly, I took them at their word.

 

Paving the Road Out

Hilariously enough – it was the hypocritical church women and the feminists that gave me the first glimpses of Alpha life.

Every hookup I had in high school was to a woman that I now know I had preselection with. Women that competed with their friends over me (which I subconsciously encouraged solely because I couldn’t make a choice). Women younger than me. Women I was put in places of authority over by class, by sport, by activity. I never landed with any of them because, the moment I made an overt move, it fell to pieces. While I didn’t understand it till the red pill, and lamented it for years how any woman I asked out always said no, I simply learned to stop asking them out and just ‘let it happen’ with a kiss.

Meanwhile I also played a separate game in church. I only hooked up with a couple of them, but they (rather than the athiest girls at schools) were the ones that would lie or cheat behind my back. In addition, my church was one of those ‘inclusive’ churches. We had church sleep overs, bowling, mission trips with too little supervision, and plays where I’d be the exciting way for her to cheat with a make out as I gave her a ride home. I saw church girls hide in corners to make out. I heard first hand stories of church girls getting fingered in church. And, occasionally, I was the boy she found as an exciting get away trip. More often than not though – I was the shoulder to cry on.

Over all, the lying cheating church girls I expected to be pristine opened my eyes to the rest of the world at an early age. There’s a lack of bitterness to most of my posts compared to the rest of the manosphere, and I’ll attribute it to always knowing women were what they were at some level.

Irony is a bitch.

 

Average Frustrated College (AFC) Years

While I lost my virginity to a smokin hot high schooler my freshman year of college, I certainly wouldn’t describe any of the other women as catches during those college years. Judge for yourself. I’m pretty sure those pictures of the first couple women say enough in and of themselves. I almost cheated on every single one of them – yet I couldn’t bring myself to do it the nights where things got hot and heavy, then found myself detested the next day by the women I almost cheated with, as if they did nothing. While unsurprising now, it was perplexing then.

The end of my college relationship career was with an overweight 5’10″, 185 lb woman from Texas. And I’m sure she gained 10 pounds while I was with her. Honestly, I looked at other pictures of her/us I could put in this new post since the original, and didn’t have the heart to do it. I didn’t want to be a dick, nor did I want to stomp all over good memories I have. So here:

 

 

Yes, I was that guy.

It lasted for two years after college

 

Seeing the light

She went through a year of unemployment, I was working 40 hours a week at a call center to pay the bills, while working another 20-30 a week doing theatre to pursue my dreams. The sex dried up, and it was a downward spiral similar to any LTR crash or divorce story you hear on the ‘Sphere. Less sex, less respect, more bullshit

I started hitting on friends. Friends only of hers. Friends of mine, Mutual friends. I hit on anything with breasts and a pussy, though never cheated. I got caught, I called her a liar and blamed her. This was my theme song for 8 months:

I shamed her infront of mutual friends. I applied to grad school. The flirting got moderate renewed interest, yet it was more bitching than sex. Little enough either way  that I knew it was a burn out. When she refused to make plans on if I got into grad school or not, I knew it was over. I got in, ditched her ass, and spent a summer at home before Boston.

It was the summer of my life.

Tripled my number count. Short terms only. Was drinking, having fun, and doing only what you ‘shouldn’t do with hotter women than I’d ever gotten before. All younger women, all in under 21, all in college, all while living in a friend’s basement while working a summer job.

I went to grad school and continued doing the same with under grads. Things I would have thought before I shouldn’t have been able to do at all. Let alone morally done. Sex in public places. Demanding satisfaction. Telling a woman “no, I don’t enjoy going down on you so I’m not going to do it”. Seeing things happen like me refusing to comfort a woman, then getting bored and telling her to go down on me, and it working.

I started getting shit for still being single, but living up the dream.

 

Meanwhile, in Feminist Land

I was learning how to communicate with feminist bitch cunts. They invaded theatre, so I continue to have to put up with them and refine my ways of communication. I did so out of necessity, but was starting to get curious at why I could land everything I desired while doing exactly what they told me not to. So, reading feminist doctrine became both a necessity and a curiosity.

Then, one day, a friend linked Amanda Bolick’s article in the Atlantic. It mentioned Hooking Up Smart. I followed it, read Susan’s archives, found Dalrock and Badger. It was over from there. I went two weeks without sleep in any significant amount as I hit Dalrock’s self links like an ADD kid on wikipedia. Dalrock continues to be the man I read every article of for his writing style and because divorce matters to me – but his self linking is insane in what it does to a man wanting pure, unfiltered knowledge with those links.

Soon enough I found Roosh, Roissy, and Rollo. After a couple months to get my feet back on the ground, I started this blog to keep myself grounded by being able to have a safe place to work through my thoughts.

 

The Rest has been blogged as a documented Journey on the road of Alpha