Taking a detour into Roosh V valley

Having read a bit more this past day from Roosh, I just feel the need to address some of what he’s put out there into the world.

Beginning with this article (2008) titled  “The Perfect Woman”: http://www.rooshv.com/the-perfect-woman

That goes a long way into comprehending his psychology. Note where he states the following:

I was 23-years-old when I met a beautiful girl. I have no idea how I got her but I did, and I didn’t have the “game” that I have now. She liked me for me, an eager guy out of college trying to relieve whatever inadequacy he thought he had.

She crushed me, but that was okay. But I did something that wasn’t okay. I overcompensated, to the extreme. I had to get even better at the game so not only could I find a girl like that again, but I could keep her as well. You see there was an end goal of a happy relationship somewhere along the line, but it didn’t work out like that. The game was the end itself. The perfect woman I thought I wanted slowly slipped away. She morphed into this monster of easy sex and unrealistic expectations.

 

Another relevant excerpt:

Part of me wishes I got swooped up by her. Maybe I would see women as more than just numbers and stories. Maybe I’d be in a happy relationship. Sure I’d be whipped and still working in some soulless job trying to pay a mortgage, but at least I’d have this woman who cared for me and loved me, and I would do the same to her. I think I was capable of that.

Instead I went down this rabbit hole… deeper and deeper… and darker. I see less than I used to. Too much experience, too used to easy attention and cheap thrills. You can’t undo your experiences, especially when there is just too many of them, their naked bodies, their smell on your fingers as you drive home racking up another score… your fantasies of their moans and kisses as you smile yourself to sleep. The way they laugh at jokes you’ve said a hundred times before.

It gets worse every year, the happy relationship with my “perfect” girl just gets farther as I become more incapable, as I become “better” at getting sex that has meaning but really doesn’t. I don’t even notice differences in girls anymore. But I can’t stop. I notice most other guys can. Am I… a validation junkie? An attention whore? Like the girls I criticize?

When that girl dumped me I cried. I went to her place to get my stuff, hoping I could keep it going. But it was done. I left and parked in a gas station and sat there and cried like a little baby. If that happened today, I wouldn’t even give a shit, and I think that’s my problem. I’m a machine with flesh, no empathy or love… another night, another performance.

She wasn’t perfect, not even close. But she was.

 

He got hurt and then went down a “rabbit hole” that he’s yet to come out of. He recognizes his life has become empty, meaningless, devoid of empathy for women as a result of him closing off, and yet…there he still stands, going through the motions and advocating just exactly that for other males to follow in suit. Misery does love company, and that’s no joke.

Look, I can relate on several levels. Some have read my stories on here in the past and know about how I met a nice guy, a decent man by most standards. Sure, he drinks too much and falls asleep with chew tobacco in his mouth routinely, but he’s not a man-whore and never was. I, however, came from a past of promiscuity and sex work and got to feeling damaged by all that plus my upbringing. And when I came into contact with this friendly, generous, loving individual (acknowledging his own drawbacks and limitations — we all have them, and he and I are extremely different on a bunch of levels that makes it very tricky to relate), I wound up fucking it all up and cheated on him. But I didn’t stop there. No, I went down a dark rabbit hole too that I am just in recent times finally emerging from, and that whole experience screwed me up worse than probably anything I’d been through before.

A difference in my and Roosh’s sagas is that here I’m discussing meeting someone after years of being involved in a lifestyle that turned out to not be conducive to switching gears and settling down, though through all this my former companion still remains involved in my life (he does claim to want to move on to other potentially compatible relationships, but, one could also argue, if he wanted that bad enough he’d be gone by now — ultimately his decision there — our goal is to figure out how to remain friends). Roosh’s went away and that became the catalyst for how his downward spiral first began, so he claimed in the post linked above.

In my own situation, I went from experiencing burnout with that lifestyle and trying to disengage with all that to then change course rather abruptly once I met someone, only to not know how to manage that new way of being and to control myself and my urges that I already had an extensive history of rationalizing and catering to. And my failings there led to totally becoming mired in guilt and shame in a way I never had before. Never done someone so wrong like that before. And the subsequent reaching for some form of atonement is painful as a motherfucker. Certainly not exaggerating there. I FUCKED UP. Period. And, frankly, I remain surprised that my former still sees any value in me to this day, which also keeps fueling the guilt and shame because I wound up losing faith in my own damned self on account of all of this. Because that’s not who I thought I was — wasn’t who ever I wanted to be. To figure out you’ve been sexually compulsive after nearly a decade of being far and away from anything remotely resembling monogamy, then thinking you could make the switch and failing due to the power of ingrained habits and a lack of self-control.

And this is how this shit can become seriously toxic. Look, I’m not knocking “pick-up artistry” (PUAs) in terms of building self-confidence and learning to accept rejection since that shit can’t help but be inevitable (for any of us, I might add, whether male or female — I’ve dealt with my fair share of rejection over time too). But when it comes to toying with people, lying to people, deceptive bullshit that not only messes with other people’s minds and emotions but also fucks with your own soul, you can easily wind up in seriously savage terrain. I am not trying to be an alarmist here for no good reason, folks — I am serious as a heart attack based on what my own personal experience has been teaching me. Because I knew “game” too (though I didn’t set out to study it), hence why PUA bullshit doesn’t worry me much when it comes to my own self since I’ve been seeing through that sort of thing for many years. Not a naive little girl anymore. I turned into one of the beasts myself (when I choose to flex that). I already know what I am capable of and how I could roll, at least in that sense. Not among the worst of the worst, but I held my own for the most part back in the day. Made good money at it (and should’ve paid off my college education when I had the chance — who knew the burnout was coming so soon?), improved my station in life, forged lasting connections, etc. Lucky for others I wasn’t into ripping men off for money under false pretenses (see, the sex industry ethics do at least provide some benefit to society in that regard) and I was STD-tested frequently and used to be very wary about engaging in sex unprotected (most especially professionally). Plus I never had interest in having children (refuse to do so) and religiously took birth control pills for over a decade. So…some risks were mitigated.

BUT, I still managed to fuck with people’s emotions at times, whether I meant to or set out to do so or not. This I cannot pretend isn’t true. And I fucked my own emotions and got to where I couldn’t clearly recognize a good thing when it came across my path and offered me devotion and accepted my past (naive as that might’ve been on his part without knowing me better first). See, I do get this shit, and it messes with my head every single day for the last 3-4 years since it began really and truly dawning on me. Since I broke a heart that in no way deserved to be broken. Since I lied and then confessed and then spiraled down furthermore. This feeling inside reminds me constantly with random flashbacks of what I’ve done, what I wish now I hadn’t done. Randomness, meaninglessness, severe detachment. Selfishness to a fault. Self-destructiveness…

And you know what it’s cost me? Besides a failed relationship with somebody I respect, it’s cost me sanctity of mind because memories flood me and guilt me every fucking day and night. Still don’t regret escorting in the past since I was single back then and free, but I do keenly realize now how much of that in conjunction with my off-hours lifestyle throughout my 20s contributed to turning me into someone I sometimes barely recognize anymore. You want to talk about cynicism? You want to talk about cold, seemingly rational detachment and just pursuing what you’ve grown used to? I know all about that. More than I’d like to know. And more than I’d prefer anyone else to know for their own selves. I don’t want people to follow in my footsteps, because the lessons gleaned here really can break a person, so I’m finding out. Can shatter an individual’s spirit. And that is not hyperbole. I am stating this publicly because I have very little left to lose or hide and feel the need to speak my own truth to the universe.

Could I encourage other women to take precautions as I did and to play up to men as I did and make money off doing so? Probably. Had a good reputation in the Industry and figured out a thing or two in my personal exploration. Didn’t travel to other countries to whore around, but I didn’t need to for reality to set in and end up messing me up.

And maybe that’s the difference I sense between myself and Roosh V. He ceased caring — willed himself to stop caring. I cannot. Mine folded back in on me and eventually trapped me in a prison of its own making. Caused me to get stuck in my own mind and circular reasoning, going over the details again and again and again, wondering why I did what I did. How could I be so foolish? How could I be so cruel? Why would I fuck up my own soul through my own doings?? As if life isn’t hard enough on its own. How could I hurt someone like that who didn’t deserve it? ME!? Why?? And this is where I live, day after day, year after year, trying to find a way out.

Being completely fucking honest here tonight, folks. No holds barred. Am not pretending to be some sweetheart, reformed or otherwise, nor do I believer I ever presented myself to the public as such. Nor does Roosh. But he seems to revel in his diabolical dilemma, undoubtedly knowing that not all the women he’s playing with are “whores” and “sluts” deserving of this sort of treatment just because they happened to cross his path. Knowing that he’s helping wreck these women for whatever future mates they try to find love with. Undoubtedly knowing he’s not helping his own future prospects either if ever he wants more out of life than this. And where’s his conscience? Subdued by drugs and alcohol?

I understand alcohol too and won’t pretend I don’t. Got a hold on me over time and still has a hold on me. Even now as I’m basically putting myself in some sort of self-imposed “rehab” by visiting down South with family for a couple months, having abandoned my job and likely to return home broke. And yet I still am not where I need to be. I get how it can go. But people don’t like to warn one another other about the potential downside to these lifestyle choices, not in an honest and informed way. So maybe that’s what I need to be talking about right now to less experienced others.

Cultivating self-will and self-control is a HELL of a conundrum to go up against! Gotta keep plugging at it. Won’t pretend I’m winning at it yet. Not proud of myself. BUT, through all of this I have finally cultivated the ability to leave sex alone, outside of dealing with my former companion. Done a great job there for around 2 years now, much as that might not mean anything or prove impressive to most onlookers. Won’t claim to have been perfect there either, compulsive as I had grown to be, but definitely making significant progress. And probably the deeply internalized guilt was needed to make that shit happen, or at least kick it into gear.  So I am grateful for that at least. It’s progress in my book for someone like me. Roosh has spoken of knowing he probably oughta go that way himself, but he won’t, because he will not let his heart be open enough to possibly break it so that that transformation might become required inside himself. Instead he retreats down in that rabbit hole, despite admitting to seeing it for what it is.

This is not just about judging that man. I know some of you out there might think I’m a bitch always looking to give a man grief, but that really isn’t usually the case. All of you are a mirror to me at this point, which can’t be helped. Can’t stop it unless I willfully regress even further. And that is, in a nutshell, exactly Roosh’s tactic. That’s how he avoids coming to terms with this shit directly and the call it brings to make changes. And changes do not typically come quickly, not if they’re to be lasting. It’s all a process. And it does involve struggling and suffering and admitting defeat on some levels. I do not see any way around that.

In another article (2009), titled “The Dark Side of Game”: http://www.rooshv.com/the-dark-side

Roosh V stated the following:

Sleeping with a ton of women has some mental consequences that aren’t ususally talked about. Here are four things that I have noticed:

Inability to view women as equal human beings. My default opinion of any girl I meet is “worthless dirty whore until proven otherwise.” When so many girls have opened their legs up for me so quickly and easily, it’s hard for me to respect them (and their opinions or ideas) like I would a family member or close friend. I think this is leaking out into other areas of life as someone pointed out to me that I seem to read books written only by men.

Decreasing ability to sympathize and empathize with the female condition. Because I learned early on that talking to a girl about her problems or issues is the fastest way out of her pants, it’s become habit for me to simply nod or say “That sucks” when a girl has a genuine problem, even one that I can help solve. I have no desire to help a girl out with her life, and I don’t care if she falls flat on her face.

Decreasing patience to work things out. I don’t give a girl more than one chance to act “right” because it’s so easy to find a new whore at the bar. My ability to stay in a long-term relationship, putting up with its natural ups and downs, is evaporating as I adopt the mentality of a dictator, with my bitch the subservient who must attend to my needs without making any mistakes. Over the years my temper has greatly shortened.

Decreasing view of sex as a beautiful act of love. Sex is a mechanical means for me to relieve the pressure building up in my sack and nothing more, one small step above jerking off with my tight-gripped hand. I do not feel any closer to a girl when I pump her, and most of the time I respect her less because my opinion of her as a worthless dirty whore who probably likes being choked was proven correct.

The only way I see to reverse these consequences is to step out of the game completely and go through a massive cold streak that makes me value a woman again, to see her as something important that I need. Since I don’t see this happening, the odds that I will meet a new girl who I genuinely care for and maybe even love will be about the same as me winning the grand prize of a scratch ticket lottery game. And I’m fine with that. For now.

That was his whole article copied and pasted in full. And in there is where I found the link to his “The Perfect Woman” article.

You want to try to tell me that’s a healthy way to view and approach 50% of the world’s population? You want to tell me that that attitude is in any way conducive toward finding a loving partner and engaging in a happier life together? Toward promoting love? Or at least some semblance of peace? Or avoiding unnecessary drama of your own creation? Does anyone think happiness can spring from that shit? Or even relative contentment? How about a meaningful existence? Because that’s what I want and it’s that precisely that’s been eluding me for so long. In a full-blown existential crisis over here and won’t pretend otherwise. Why lie? I already know where that shit leads, and I personally would like to head somewhere else now. Can you understand that? Can you understand that that shit isn’t sustainable over the long haul? That it winds up doing more harm than good, to oneself and to others?

I pray some of you out there can understand that.

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