If Only…

Something you hear in comments sections everywhere in the manosphere is: “Why couldn’t I have found out about this shit in high school!” It’s a well-shared sentiment and I find it amazing looking back on all my pre-red pill failures that I can nearly spot the exact instances where things went wrong. Like I said before, I discovered Roissy and co. almost immediately after one of the most crushing defeats in my romantic career. My heart was destroyed by the same one-itis broad that had burned me multiple times in high school and as I read more, I began to think if only…

 

I was hosting a house party. My house parties are generally pretty solid, lots of alcohol is consumed and good times are had by all. I have two pong tables set up side by side and a fire pit out back for variance. Things were going well, I was getting proper hammered and enjoying my beerpong. Above one of the tables is a chandelier and I can recall the beginning of a new house rule that night as I hit a turn around fade-away jump shot over it and into the cup. Anyway, I had a prospect already at the party. A reasonably cute blonde, I’d say she was about a 6.5. I was working on her slowly and teasing a bit while mingling with the rest of the party as the night went on. Cue my one-itis showing up.

She was about a 7.5 and I’d always overrated her. We had developed a long and sordid history together, she cheating on two previous boyfriends with me and I cheating on a girlfriend with her. We’d just never been able to “get it right” so to speak. She showed up with her best friend and another mutual friend and looked pretty good. She was of course in a multi-year relationship with some dude so I wrote her off upon arrival and focused on other people, beyond the basic “hey, what’s up long time, here’s the wine” schtick.

Drinks poured into mouths and conversation poured out of them, everyone had a great time. I can remember I’d been getting myself in shape for the previous few months and was wearing a black t-shirt and jeans. I was a regular lil Hank Moody on the night, completely overconfident because of the party-host value and feeling good about myself. Of course she was going to pursue me. Of course we were going to start talking. My previous prospect got all huffy and left because I wasn’t paying her enough attention and I hardly noticed because for some reason I just couldn’t help myself.

We were out by the fire, half the party out with us. She sat on my lap, using her drunkenness as an excuse to flirt her tits off. We could see and feel each other’s breath in the chilly pre-Autumn air. One of my best friends kept overtly trying to tell me how ‘on’ it was. I love my friends but it’s so funny that they feel the need to point it out after it’s already become obvious. Eventually I got up and went inside to check on the rest of the party and then go upstairs to check on something.

I came out of the upstairs bathroom and lo and behold, who had followed me up the stairs? Sure, we should go into the spare bedroom and look out the window at the party, and no, we probably shouldn’t turn the lights on. That way when my tongue’s down your throat and your hand’s on my dick we can maintain some pretense of subtlety because the night doesn’t tell lies, babe. No, they won’t know that we both mysteriously disappeared at the same time just because it’s dark. Really.

It didn’t take long before we were rolling on the bed together, panting and removing one another’s clothes. She gave the piteous and hysterical “wait, we can’t” once she was down to her panties and I asked her to quit when it stopped feeling good. Of course it didn’t stop feeling good, and after a cutting a timeless swath of  sweaty, dark, passionate fucking we laid together gasping. We reflected on our now threepeated transgression and returned to the evening’s festivities.

The party went along swell the rest of the night. Some of the guests left, and the ones that were too fucked up to do found a couch to crash on. I bid everyone adieu and enjoyed the lingering hug my one-itis gave me before she left. After putting out the fire and locking the house up I went upstairs to find a text on my phone. “I smell like you. :)” Smiling like a butcher’s dog, I closed my phone and went to bed, enjoying that ‘used’ feeling your dick has after you’ve just enjoyed some pussy.

The next day, she texted me while I was cleaning up asking me when we could do that again and after a few hours I texted back “tonight.” She lamented her busy schedule and said she couldn’t make it until after the weekend. I said “ok.”

She broke up with her boyfriend that weekend and came over to my house out of the blue on Sunday in a skimpy white dress. Oh did I enjoy just about tearing it off of her. We went on to have a steamy, torrid affair that summer. This made three boyfriends she had cheated on with me but this made it the first time we’d ever connected together and formed a real relationship. The highlight was when we went to her best friend’s wedding and ran off to fuck multiple times through the course of the reception. Of course it ended on mutual terms as I had to return to college in the fall and her work schedule meant she couldn’t be around to keep me satisfied with just one woman, but it was a wonderful summer that we both enjoyed…

 

…if only I’d taken the red pill, this is how the ordeal would have taken place.

Instead, I pulled away after we began making out in that dark room. I didn’t push for sex right then and there, and eventually her best friend came looking for her.

Instead, I texted her first that night telling her how great it was.

Instead, I texted her first the next day, asking her about how she felt about it.

I did indeed manage to get her to come over that weekend, and we did indeed have sex and I could’ve pushed that into the relationship I wanted, but…

Instead, I let her talk herself into a dramatic little situation where she couldn’t leave her boyfriend because he was one of the groomsmen in her best friend’s wedding.

Instead, I waited, like a little fucking puppy, feeding off scraps of her affection until the wedding came around only to be left empty-handed when she convinced herself she couldn’t leave her boyfriend at all.

Instead, I wasted an entire summer of self-improvement on one fucking girl that I wasn’t even fucking daily and let myself fall into damn near depression over my un-reciprocated feeeeeelings.

If only I’d taken the red pill sooner. If only.

 

On the bright side if I’d been red pill back then I’d have probably knocked her up, so that’s something!

I can look back on all that now and laugh at what I was vs. what I’ve become and I’m very thankful that the bitterness from that wasted summer has dried up. It’s just a learning experience and now a story of what I used to be. A stark contrast indeed.

Cheers, J. Worthy

 

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6 comments

    • mrjworthy

      Thanks amigo, glad you enjoyed. It’s a harsh lesson but I think it’s necessary for any man ready to steel himself against cringeworthy failures of the past. It felt good to tell it.

  1. Cakes and Shakes...

    “On the bright side if I’d been red pill back then I’d have probably knocked her up, so that’s something” LMAO, that and you aren’t bitter. Seriously, if you can get through that sort of regret and not be bitter, you win. And probably there’s a wall she’s hitting some time soon and meanwhile you won’t be the sap picking up the cheques from her bruised ego…

    • mrjworthy

      Haha true enough. Thanks for reading and yeah, bitterness is so dang negative and accomplishes little so it’s much better to just laugh at yourself about stuff like this and carry on.

  2. Pingback: I am your party host… « Worthy's Story
  3. Invictus III

    Jesus what a great read man! Just when it was getting good you went and flipped the switch. Great way to illustrate what many of us have gone through vs what we all strive for now that we’ve swallowed the pill. Nice job.

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