Jack22
Don Juan
- Joined
- Jan 5, 2022
- Messages
- 183
- Reaction score
- 254
- Age
- 22
A VERY VERY VERY LONG CRINGE POST, ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK.
While there are some very insightful people in this community, and some far more successful than most of us can ever hope to achieve, there is nothing they can do to help you that you cannot do for yourself. I’ve spent ten years of my life poking and prodding through forums and websites, and what have I Iearned? What deeper understanding of myself have I unearthed? That I’m an obsessive personality? That I have OCD? A Puer Aeternus, a lost boy, or any number of nicknames they’ve come up with to define me?
Or am I just lazy, and these terms are just a means of alleviating responsibility away from myself and directing it outwards against others, ever expanding and growing further and further to encompass all of humanity? It’s not my fault, if I was simply born in a different time or place, maybe with a nicer face and a few more exaggerated features here and there, things would have turned out differently. Maybe with a better mind, an innately known talent or two? After all, I am a victim of circumstance, aren’t I? I didn’t ask to be born. Nature itself conspired against me to place me on this lonely and wretched rock………right?
Or was it God who placed me here to test my will against circumstances I had no control over, to throw me into an everlasting fire if I went against his will perfectly preserved in the deserts sands of a land torn apart by war and meddling tribes for far longer than anyone could ever care to remember?
When our ancestors crawled from the primeval soup, we were set on course towards a never ending arms race against not just the outside elements, but ourselves. We work with the environment we’ve been given, whether that’s the sea devils existing in the deepest, darkest, abyss 2 miles below the ocean, or the jumping spiders that live thousands of feet in the air on Mount Everest. In the end, there are only two probable truths that really matter: that you were born, and that you will die.
We already know this though, don’t we? Did you know that if you were born just a few centuries earlier, you only had a 1 in 2 chance of surviving childbirth? Or that you were even less likely to make it to the age 8 without keeling over? I probably wouldn’t be alive today, counting the number of times I was really sick in early childhood, had it not been for modern medicine. If you were a woman, mortality during birth was so high you had to write your will shortly after learning of your pregnancy, all to carry the seed of a man who’s offspring may or may not survive long enough to reproduce into adulthood.
Now’s probably the point where you’re asking what’s the point of my little spiel. If the gravity of the situation hasn’t set in just yet, let me add just a little more weight onto your shoulders. Women aren’t the problem, nor is it the government, the ideologues, or the people. Nor is it the fault of global warming, the overabundance of sexual competition, the BPA and hormones in the water, or the lack of a father figure at home. These things just are. For most of us, they’re outside our frame of control. Those hormones in the water from sally’s birth control are keeping another son without a father from being born. That plastic that mimics the effects of estrogen? It’s a cheap and disposable solution used to keep affordable healthcare, affordable. Could these things be used more responsibly? Absolutely, yes. Will they? Often times, no, but it doesn’t mean they will never be.
Man often learns from his mistakes, but not before suffering the consequences of them. Just like that design error in a high altitude air plane with square passenger windows can cause an internal rupture in it’s hull, causing it to crash down at an altitude of precisely 20,000 feet, so does Sally when she waits until forty to pick a partner, or Jimmy when he’s wasted half his life playing video games instead of preparing to become the man he’s always wanted to be in adulthood. We have all this knowledge, all this leisure time, all these resources available to us, and we simply. Don’t. Use it. Instead, we throw it all away, eating the lotus and live in mediocrity. It’s like the expression “just killing some time.” You can’t kill time, time is a concept, it’s immaterial. You can’t kill an idea. But time is killing you, my friend. One second, every second of your life, time is counting down. Tick-tock.
How do you spend your time? Is it spent b*tching about circumstances none of us have control over, on a forum almost no one cares to see? Or do you spend your time building, brick by brick, something that will last for far longer than your measly life ever could? Is it a new way of life? A mode of thinking? A family? A tool? A cure? But why would I ever make something without a reward? What’s in it for me? I’m the man, the experimental sex after all, I’m more likely to die and not leave any children behind. Women have it easy. Duh.
Well, maybe. But with men, you have the much wider choice between the two extremes. You can fall way farther, but you can also rise much higher. You can change your circumstances, most of the time at least. Women on the other hand have to live with the cards they’ve been given. That card is mostly physical, and it’s extremely short lived, at least if you’re looking to find a partner you’d like to spend the rest of your life with. Unless you’re planning to slut it up and live into old age alone and decrepit with nothing but animals who have no choice but to be with you to keep you company, or live with a man you despise who has so little self respect for himself that he’d marry a wh*re. If you weren’t born with charmingly good looks, well, sucks to be you.
And if you are charmingly good looking, prepare to be taunted, followed, and harassed by disgusting creeps you would never give the time of day. All your life, you have to look over your shoulder because that primal sense of being alone with a man you don’t know leaves you with a sense of dread of being raped and having to carry a child you both hate for taking your future away and unwillingly love because you are it’s mother. Sounds fun, doesn’t it? And you wonder why women are crazy? Assuming you do find a partner, and you are attracted to him, and he is a good father, and he will be able to provide for your children while you’re left pregnant and vulnerable, what’s stopping him from skipping town? Or being killed? Or worse, lying about being the man he said he’d be, and now you can’t pay this months rent and have to get an education in nursing or teaching while working long hours and getting in debt in order to provide for your unborn child which will need all sorts of up keeping, all while you’re pregnant?
Oh no, did I just get pregnant by a loser? Now my offspring might not have as bright of a future as I may have hoped for them. I still love them, but I don’t want to see them suffer unnecessarily. While I’m away for work, I spend less time from child, does that make me a bad mother for not being there for my kid? Now they’re hanging out with a bad crowd, if only I had a strong father as my husband, none of this would have happened. Nor can I find a good man because what strong man would want an aging single mother? You see where I’m getting at, don’t you?
It’s all your fault. All of it. You, the individual. Take responsibility for yourself. Control your attitude, be someone worthy of respect, and THEN demand the authority it provides. My dad was never around, but I still made the hard choices. I’ve made mistakes, but I’ve paid the price too. I’ve lost countless friends, turned down many relationships, and got into loads of trouble and all because they went against my own personal values. If we don’t hold ourselves to a standard, who will? Everybody wants to be at the top, but it’s not until you look down from the peak that you see just what it all cost. The sacrifices, the regrets, the countless hours spent toiling away for the possibility that you might succeed. Even then, everyone is clawing their way up looking to tear you down. They’ll lie about you, steal from you, and hurt you. But you’re the one that has to remain steadfast and dignified because you’re the one in charge, so everything will be your fault. Your words carry weight, and every misstep can spell your undoing. The higher we climb, the harder we fall.
There is a benefit, however. If you succeed, the company you’ll keep will be among the best. You are not brothers, but have admired the ascent together, and share a close bond forged by experience. You learn to love the thrill of the hunt. We call it the game. Learn to love it, risk it all and win big, or fall and be forgotten. What you choose to do next is up to you. Either you can cross your legs, huff a long breath and let loose a tangent excuse for why you’re a failure(in which case, prepare to live like this for the rest of your life), or you can do what little you can do to change your fate by taking accountability for your actions. Your choice.
If you’ve made it all the way down here, thanks for reading. This will be my last cringe post, so you won’t have to suffer my poor writing again. This is the last site I use recreationally, it’s about time I went back to that lonely long road ahead.
While there are some very insightful people in this community, and some far more successful than most of us can ever hope to achieve, there is nothing they can do to help you that you cannot do for yourself. I’ve spent ten years of my life poking and prodding through forums and websites, and what have I Iearned? What deeper understanding of myself have I unearthed? That I’m an obsessive personality? That I have OCD? A Puer Aeternus, a lost boy, or any number of nicknames they’ve come up with to define me?
Or am I just lazy, and these terms are just a means of alleviating responsibility away from myself and directing it outwards against others, ever expanding and growing further and further to encompass all of humanity? It’s not my fault, if I was simply born in a different time or place, maybe with a nicer face and a few more exaggerated features here and there, things would have turned out differently. Maybe with a better mind, an innately known talent or two? After all, I am a victim of circumstance, aren’t I? I didn’t ask to be born. Nature itself conspired against me to place me on this lonely and wretched rock………right?
Or was it God who placed me here to test my will against circumstances I had no control over, to throw me into an everlasting fire if I went against his will perfectly preserved in the deserts sands of a land torn apart by war and meddling tribes for far longer than anyone could ever care to remember?
When our ancestors crawled from the primeval soup, we were set on course towards a never ending arms race against not just the outside elements, but ourselves. We work with the environment we’ve been given, whether that’s the sea devils existing in the deepest, darkest, abyss 2 miles below the ocean, or the jumping spiders that live thousands of feet in the air on Mount Everest. In the end, there are only two probable truths that really matter: that you were born, and that you will die.
We already know this though, don’t we? Did you know that if you were born just a few centuries earlier, you only had a 1 in 2 chance of surviving childbirth? Or that you were even less likely to make it to the age 8 without keeling over? I probably wouldn’t be alive today, counting the number of times I was really sick in early childhood, had it not been for modern medicine. If you were a woman, mortality during birth was so high you had to write your will shortly after learning of your pregnancy, all to carry the seed of a man who’s offspring may or may not survive long enough to reproduce into adulthood.
Now’s probably the point where you’re asking what’s the point of my little spiel. If the gravity of the situation hasn’t set in just yet, let me add just a little more weight onto your shoulders. Women aren’t the problem, nor is it the government, the ideologues, or the people. Nor is it the fault of global warming, the overabundance of sexual competition, the BPA and hormones in the water, or the lack of a father figure at home. These things just are. For most of us, they’re outside our frame of control. Those hormones in the water from sally’s birth control are keeping another son without a father from being born. That plastic that mimics the effects of estrogen? It’s a cheap and disposable solution used to keep affordable healthcare, affordable. Could these things be used more responsibly? Absolutely, yes. Will they? Often times, no, but it doesn’t mean they will never be.
Man often learns from his mistakes, but not before suffering the consequences of them. Just like that design error in a high altitude air plane with square passenger windows can cause an internal rupture in it’s hull, causing it to crash down at an altitude of precisely 20,000 feet, so does Sally when she waits until forty to pick a partner, or Jimmy when he’s wasted half his life playing video games instead of preparing to become the man he’s always wanted to be in adulthood. We have all this knowledge, all this leisure time, all these resources available to us, and we simply. Don’t. Use it. Instead, we throw it all away, eating the lotus and live in mediocrity. It’s like the expression “just killing some time.” You can’t kill time, time is a concept, it’s immaterial. You can’t kill an idea. But time is killing you, my friend. One second, every second of your life, time is counting down. Tick-tock.
How do you spend your time? Is it spent b*tching about circumstances none of us have control over, on a forum almost no one cares to see? Or do you spend your time building, brick by brick, something that will last for far longer than your measly life ever could? Is it a new way of life? A mode of thinking? A family? A tool? A cure? But why would I ever make something without a reward? What’s in it for me? I’m the man, the experimental sex after all, I’m more likely to die and not leave any children behind. Women have it easy. Duh.
Well, maybe. But with men, you have the much wider choice between the two extremes. You can fall way farther, but you can also rise much higher. You can change your circumstances, most of the time at least. Women on the other hand have to live with the cards they’ve been given. That card is mostly physical, and it’s extremely short lived, at least if you’re looking to find a partner you’d like to spend the rest of your life with. Unless you’re planning to slut it up and live into old age alone and decrepit with nothing but animals who have no choice but to be with you to keep you company, or live with a man you despise who has so little self respect for himself that he’d marry a wh*re. If you weren’t born with charmingly good looks, well, sucks to be you.
And if you are charmingly good looking, prepare to be taunted, followed, and harassed by disgusting creeps you would never give the time of day. All your life, you have to look over your shoulder because that primal sense of being alone with a man you don’t know leaves you with a sense of dread of being raped and having to carry a child you both hate for taking your future away and unwillingly love because you are it’s mother. Sounds fun, doesn’t it? And you wonder why women are crazy? Assuming you do find a partner, and you are attracted to him, and he is a good father, and he will be able to provide for your children while you’re left pregnant and vulnerable, what’s stopping him from skipping town? Or being killed? Or worse, lying about being the man he said he’d be, and now you can’t pay this months rent and have to get an education in nursing or teaching while working long hours and getting in debt in order to provide for your unborn child which will need all sorts of up keeping, all while you’re pregnant?
Oh no, did I just get pregnant by a loser? Now my offspring might not have as bright of a future as I may have hoped for them. I still love them, but I don’t want to see them suffer unnecessarily. While I’m away for work, I spend less time from child, does that make me a bad mother for not being there for my kid? Now they’re hanging out with a bad crowd, if only I had a strong father as my husband, none of this would have happened. Nor can I find a good man because what strong man would want an aging single mother? You see where I’m getting at, don’t you?
It’s all your fault. All of it. You, the individual. Take responsibility for yourself. Control your attitude, be someone worthy of respect, and THEN demand the authority it provides. My dad was never around, but I still made the hard choices. I’ve made mistakes, but I’ve paid the price too. I’ve lost countless friends, turned down many relationships, and got into loads of trouble and all because they went against my own personal values. If we don’t hold ourselves to a standard, who will? Everybody wants to be at the top, but it’s not until you look down from the peak that you see just what it all cost. The sacrifices, the regrets, the countless hours spent toiling away for the possibility that you might succeed. Even then, everyone is clawing their way up looking to tear you down. They’ll lie about you, steal from you, and hurt you. But you’re the one that has to remain steadfast and dignified because you’re the one in charge, so everything will be your fault. Your words carry weight, and every misstep can spell your undoing. The higher we climb, the harder we fall.
There is a benefit, however. If you succeed, the company you’ll keep will be among the best. You are not brothers, but have admired the ascent together, and share a close bond forged by experience. You learn to love the thrill of the hunt. We call it the game. Learn to love it, risk it all and win big, or fall and be forgotten. What you choose to do next is up to you. Either you can cross your legs, huff a long breath and let loose a tangent excuse for why you’re a failure(in which case, prepare to live like this for the rest of your life), or you can do what little you can do to change your fate by taking accountability for your actions. Your choice.
If you’ve made it all the way down here, thanks for reading. This will be my last cringe post, so you won’t have to suffer my poor writing again. This is the last site I use recreationally, it’s about time I went back to that lonely long road ahead.
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