*CMPitts sits down at a bar and orders a shot of Southern Comfort. He gets a shot glass from the bartender, and fills it up with the first shot.
For Our Fallen Brothers
The journey to becoming a PUA is not the easiest one. Anyone who has spent enough time in the community will know that it takes a strength that 90% of people just do not have. We’ve all seen good men, although AFCs, fail, because they didn’t have the proper tools to meet women, or handle delicate social situations. I think we should take this moment right now, to remember them all. I will recount three good men I know, and their stories.
Sam: (Names have all been changed) I used to work with Sam back in the day. In my hometown, we worked in the same grocery store (back when I was in HS). Sam was your typical quiet, 30s age man, who still worked in a grocery store. He had a good heart, but his social intelligence wasn’t too strong. He was frequently the butt of every joke at the store, for his wild, yet friendly, behavior. One off day, I was able to connect with Sam and I figured out why his behavior was so off: he had only one sexual experience in his whole life, and it was with a stripper in a back country titty bar. He told me that he was always raised to respect women so much, that he just had no idea what to say to them (sound familiar?). It was common knowledge that Sam had a crush on our customer service clerk, Hilary. After 6 months of crippling approach anxiety, he finally marshaled up the courage to ask her to a country-western concert, only to be brutally rejected. I felt bad for him, but at least I thought he would move on from this loss. He didn’t. For many more months, he pined away after her, becoming the creepy guy who stares, until she finally quit in disgust. It wasn’t long before he had another girl, which he was set up to meet. When I first heard this I was excited for him, yet concerned. It was great that he had found a girl, whom I was told was attractive (for a small town), yet I was afraid she would dump him sooner or later. She did, but not before cheating on to, to which he found out about. I no longer work with Sam, but when I do go home for a visit, he seems even more withdrawn. He seems even deader inside: a man whose “life” was claimed because he did not have the proper tools to meet women, nor the social intelligence on how to proceed.
*CMPitts raises the shot to his lips, and downs it in one gulp, only to have the bartender return and fill it up again.
Adam: Adam was my college roommate. When I met him, we were both as socially awkward as the other, so it seemed only natural that we would develop a friendship. Looking back on it now, I don’t think my personality now would have kept him as a friend, but back in the day, I was desperate for the company. He was a good kid, however, a little weird. He was very into Indie music, cardigans, and politics. However, we did share many good times, which did spawn a lot of photos, and hilarious retellings of late night parties. Adam came with baggage though: a hometown girlfriend who resented him. He would tell it that she had a very strong personality, and was a very mature girl who he could talk to. However when I met her, she was little more than a parasite: latched onto his exterior, sucking out the good energy. She was, in contrast, very immature, demanding, lazy, and irresponsible for her own actions. Soon after, she tired of him, and broke it off. During the daylight, he would say such things as, “I’m glad it’s over; fucking cunt!” but during the night, I could sometimes hear him crying. He played the dangerous game of trying to remain friends after the breakup; however this eventually ran him ragged, as she would recount tale after tale of men she had hooked up with. It eventually took his spirit. He became very hollow; after being convinced that she was his soul mate. In my desperation for my friend, I introduced him to the game. He ran with it for a while, got rejected a couple times, and then denounced it for “not working.” Even now he has trouble even talking to women, and denounces every woman who rejects him as, “a fucking cunt.”
*CMPitts raises the second shot to his lips, and downs it in one gulp, while the bartender returns to refill it.
Jeff: The last but not the least, Jeff is my brother. That’s where the similarities stop. Sometimes, I think one of us was switched at the hospital. Where I am fun and easy going, he is rigid, and a workaholic. Never one to make nice with women, he has always played it safe, preferring to throw himself into his job rather than having a social life. He never had many friends around when we were younger, and even now, there aren’t many. I don’t think he had his first girlfriend until he was in college. How he landed that, I will never know, because we didn’t talk much by this point. When I met her, I wasn’t impressed. She was very average in looks but they seemed to be happy; for a while. Then she realized that she was wearing the pants in the relationship, not him. Then came the demands, the toying with emotions. He was forced to do many things, including cleaning her car, and joining her school clubs, when he really had no interest. Eventually, she became tired of her pet, and released him. He literally did everything he could to get her back: every favor, every errand to bring her back to him. As we know, this never works. It’s been a little more than two years since they’ve broken up. Since then, he has become more withdrawn, has little desire to go out, and most of his friends have left him behind, because he was too depressing. I found out that six months after they had broken up, he offered to help her move her stuff to her new place, just to be near her. To me, he is no longer my brother, but also “dead” inside.
*CMPitts raises the third shot to his lips, and downs it.
As I look at the empty shot class, now being filled up for the fourth time by my overzealous bartender, it becomes more of a symbol for me. That fourth shot, representing the man whose life has not yet ended, which still holds a spark of manhood, is out of my reach.
We’ve all seen good men fail. As each man fails, the journey through life can seem much harder, much the same as it is to put down the next shot on a lonely night at the bar. We’ve all seen suffering. The point being that you are here, doing something about it. You are learning how to be a man, and how to survive in a world where the odds are not stacked in your favor. The simple fact that you know you have a say in the way your life is going to play out, gives you more substance than you could ever know.
If you are with me now, I want you to tell us a story of one of your friends, who is now dead inside, or has been railed by a woman, because he had neither the knowledge, nor the will at his disposal. Once you get it all out on the table now, down it forever, just like a shot, into your very core. The reason why? This is not your fate. You have all the power you choose to when it comes to your love life. Do not believe anybody when they say that shit happens for a reason. You make your own destiny. We will drink to our fallen brothers tonight, and tomorrow we will move on, with renewed vigor and confidence, and with the will to make all of our dreams come true.