A Marriage Falls Apart – What’s The Real Story?

Earlier today I tweeted this out after hearing the devastating news of a good friend’s marriage hitting its end, with three young children involved.

As is often the case, my initial reaction to it was still a bit tainted by 33 years of blue pill conditioning.

As I had a quiet moment this afternoon to reflect upon this I began see the red pill truth in what was happening.

First of all, I think it is true that my friend isn’t content, and that many of us face this same feeling nearly every single day. We long for something more, we just aren’t quite sure what it is. His lack of contentment, combined with his genetic desire for new poon, led him to cheat.

Secondly, I think the culture surrounding men like my friend lets them down. Had he been surrounded by other men that espoused the virtues of faithfulness and loyalty perhaps he would have been less likely to stray. Peer group pressure is incredibly powerful, unfortunately, I think his (work) peer group was pressuring him to mess up his life.

But that’s not what made me uneasy this afternoon. What had me thinking is, why did his wife choose right now to leave him? He’s been a cheater since before they got married (she knew and chose to marry him anyway).

Nothing’s changed. They’ve got more invested than ever. Three young children, a home, a strong community life.

Now, suddenly, she’s ready to leave him because she “can’t trust him anymore?”

My red pill intuition tells me something more is going on, and it has little to do with his cheating, that’s just a convenient excuse to blow it all up.

But why?

Hypergamy.

She’s an attractive woman in her early 30’s that works in the medical field. She’s around doctors all day. She’s a woman with opportunities.

Now, with the drudgery and grind of raising three children looming on a daily basis, the call of something new is intense.

My instinct tells me she’s either branch swinging to something new or she’s making up for missing out.

Nothing else has changed but her own mind. A woman doesn’t leave a marriage with a high value man unless she thinks she can do better, whether he’s cheating or not.

I’m not excusing his side of things, but he’s a high value man and well respected in the community. His wife doesn’t just decide to leave for “trust” issues.

She’s played it perfectly, everyone assumes she’s the victim and she’s gone out of her way to tell everyone her side of the story first, before he’s had the chance.

But something isn’t quite right about that story. She sees the prize. 50% of her time free of kids plus her living situation stays the same, and now she can “be free” and experience other men.

It’s right out of the red pill playbook, I should have seen it immediately, but I’m glad my catch up time is down to just a few hours.

It’s Not About The Kids

I was sitting there in the sanctuary this morning “listening” to the sermon. By listening, I mean I was thumbing through various bible texts that I find interesting. I usually see where the pastor is going with his message in the first two minutes, after that I tune out.

It’s amazing to me how little the bible says about having kids and raising a family, yet modern Christianity loves to espouse “family values”. It’s all right there, we should only take a wife if we absolutely must, only if we can’t control our urges. Yet we run around talking how we must marry young have lots of kids. If we stick with the New Testament, hardly a word is written about children at all.

I’m not saying family values aren’t important, but it doesn’t take a biblical scholar to understand that the bible wants us to experience our own spiritual journey more than anything else. It is less about what we should “do” and more about what roadblock should be removed so we can move closer to God.

Sure, it talks about showing our children the way, and not becoming a roadblock in their own journeys. But somewhere along the way we’ve made it about far more than that, and perhaps that is harming our children. Is it possible that Christianity is contributing to the “ME” culture so pervasive out there?

By making our lives “all about the kids” are we willing ourselves into a culture of narcissism? Quite possibly. Are we actually turning our gaze away from our own spiritual journey and using our kids as a nifty excuse to do so?

 

When I find myself in a funk, when I feel a general sense of uneasiness, it can usually be traced back to making someone, or something, else the center of my focus rather than my own spiritual journey.

The same way we can smother a relationship by focusing too much on the other person, we can smother our children.

As a single father it is easy to “focus on my kids” and ignore my own growth. This is quite often the cause of any loss of peace I feel. Not only that, but by focusing on them I am creating a roadblock in their own journey. How are they supposed to follow their own path if I’m all over them?

This isn’t unique to single fathers by any means. Nearly every family at church lives a child centered existence, and the early signs of the ME culture can be seen their children as well.

Simply being alone with one’s thoughts is a rarity these days, and unheard of for today’s children. While at first it seems selfish to turn my focus back inside myself, I am doing myself and my children a giant favor.

The Constant Value of Time

Is a day when you’re 20 worth the same as a day when you’re 80?

Is a beautiful summer day worth the same as one in fall?

Those that have followed me for any length of time know that I love golf, it is my main hobby.

Today was a beautiful fall day in Michigan. Nearly 70 degrees without a cloud in the sky. My kids were gone at their mom’s, so where would you expect to find me?

On the golf course, of course (sorry, had to).

Not just any course, my favorite one. The one I play any chance I get. It is a well-maintained track surrounded by the most beautiful scenery in the whole area.

A round at this course takes me away from it all, it is my form of meditation.

Only today there was a problem, I couldn’t get on the course. It was booked solid! That’s odd, I thought, I was just out there a few weeks ago and I was the only one on the course.

The guy at the clubhouse said it was such an unusually nice day for this late in the year, so everyone was coming out.

I wondered, where were all of these people when I had the course to myself on gorgeous summer days in June and July?

Then it occurred to me, these people were valuing this nice day because it was scarce. We won’t have too many like this left.

When the days are long and sunny in July we figure we have plenty of days like that left.

But when they happen in October, and the winter looms heavy, we cherish that time.

Why can’t we appreciate a perfect day in July as much as one in October?

Why must we live through hardship before we appreciate the boring, peaceful days?

We so often take days for granted, especially in our 20s and 30s, because we think we have more time.

Only when our days get short do we appreciate the value that each one brings.

 

 

A Father’s Long Game

Tonight I truly recognized just how long the game of parenting is.

Most of us from high IQ European descent are genetically predisposed to invest heavily in our offspring. I definitely have this trait.

This works out incredibly well when we live in a high trust, homogeneous society.

As we drift further into “diversity” for the sake of “diversity” we find ourselves in a situation not seen by anyone in  our lineage for centuries, possibly longer.

The adaptation to this is slow.

Our children are being influenced by cultural forces from all around the world, something that only became possible in the last fifty years or so.

The “shared environment” that everyone likes talk about in parenting studies is vastly different than it was in any other generation in history.

What I have observed in my own home confirms these challenges.

If I were raising children even 100 years ago their sphere of influence would only go as far as the neighbors or classmates.

Now they can be influenced by tiny screens everywhere they go, feeding them information from all over the world.

Even if we remove those screens from our own children everyone they interact with has been influenced by them. It runs deep.

I run a tight ship at home, my kids know the routine, but the second I lose focus because I am sick or distracted by work they start to fall away from the path.

Two hours of me being out of commission and they’re watching garbage youtube videos and eating a bag of potato chips.

It takes consistent discipline to keep kids on the straight path. There is very little room for error. I don’t buy for a second the argument that outcomes are based solely on genetics.

The outcomes that matter are objective and impossible to measure. IQ determines whether a kid will become a criminal, parenting determines if a high IQ kid will grow up and have a family, or become a feminist. No one measures “becomes a feminist”or “knows how to shoot a gun.”

The day in, day out grind of raising a child is work. It is thankless in the moment, but fruitful in the long haul.

It is not for the the short-sighted, or those looking for joy and companionship. At least not in our tribe.

We invest in our children, we raise them with our values and culture, we think generations ahead.

Thankfully, this means a night of TV and potato chips isn’t the end of the world, but never two nights in a row.

 

 

 

 

Introverted Patriarch?

My uncle died a lonely man. An introvert just like myself, he slowly shrunk his world until it was only him left in it.

I would visit him with my dad on occasion, we’d go over there and watch a ball game with. Hardly a word was spoken beyond some light complaining about the manager or the “bum” who got caught stealing second.

He spent most of his time alone, listening to old music and reading old books. Not a bad life. It doesn’t sound too bad to me. That’s what scares me.

He and my dad had lost their younger brother to suicide years earlier. Hardly a word was ever spoken about that, ever.

Emotions were never shared, the same way it was in my household. There was this superficial level to most interactions. No need to upset anyone with pesky thoughts or feelings, it was much easier to keep it simple and clean.

My uncle was a very smart man, the few times I got to have a real conversation with him I could sense his depth. Most of this happened once it was known he was dying.

This could easily be me. I love being alone. I could read old books and listen to my music for days and days. Right now I tire of that routine after a while and I crave some connection with others.

But what if that fades? What if my desire to connect with others goes away and I’m only left with my own lonely existence.

My vision for the future is to be surrounded by children and grandchildren all the time.  To be a patriarch of a large family that bonds and shares, one that eschews modern culture and celebrates our heritage and faith.

Going the way of my uncle is the opposite of this. Can I fight my DNA and my very nature to accomplish my goals? How much energy will this take?

Can an introvert become a patriarch?

I don’t know, but I’m sure as hell going to try.

The Mundane

As I search for ideas to write about I am amazed at how often the same themes recur over and over. I will find myself writing  a post only to remember that I wrote one just like it a few months earlier.

It’s quite fascinating how our brains can follow the same patterns day after day, even year after year.

One thing I have altered, however, is who I am writing for. When I was trying to grow my old blog I was writing for a perceived audience.

I had a rough idea of what that audience looked like from a demographics standpoint, but what I failed to realize was the reason they found me in the first place. Early on I was sharing my story and writing for nothing more than an outlet for my thoughts that I couldn’t share with friends in real life.

That resonated with a lot of men. I still have loyal readers from my first blog where I’d write about my divorce and being a single father.

I plan for this blog to be more of a personal journal for a while. I will write the occasional political or gender dynamics piece, but in between expect to see a lot of introspection.

Truth is, that is largely what my life entails right now, and that is a source of a lot of my consternation.

I am at the prime of my life. I am 36 years old and in peak physical condition. My career is humming along nicely.

Yet still, the biggest part of my life is raising my kids and the truth is I don’t like the day to day stuff very much at all. I want to take my kids golfing, play catch in the yard with them, and read books on the porch.

Sure, I do all of those things, but the time to do so is surprisingly short. I am running a household, alone. It is harder than I ever expected it to be.

The laundry, the dishes, the meal planning, shopping, cooking, cleaning – it all exhausts me. Not because it is physically exhausting, but because it is so mundane. It feels like a poor way to use my peak years.

My brain overflows with ideas and connections that I want to write about or apply to businesses, but by the time I’m done caring for the daily needs of my children I’ve got nothing left to give to those other endeavors.

It frustrates me greatly and leaves me feel dejected most evenings as I get into bed. The haunting reality is the my poor choices in my early 20s continue to be a weight on my life 15 years later.

I try not to think about it too often, but when I really go deep inside I know I am still paying for my insecurities in my early 20s, my fear of being alone which led me to cling to a broken slut.

Thankfulness, they say, is the answer. I heard in church this morning. Giving thanks for what I’ve been given. Three intelligent, healthy children. What more could a man ask for?

It seems so simple what I look at it from the outside. Yet me ego insists it must do more. I live life feeling like there’s something better on the other side of “this” whatever “this” may be.

Perhaps if I had a woman around things would be easier. Maybe if I had a job closer to home. Or perhaps if I lived in a different house.

I already feel like I’ve written this post a dozen times. Perhaps I have. Either way, I’ve lived these thoughts a thousand times.

This life as a single father feels remarkably mundane and isolated. I spent eight years feeling alone in a marriage and now I’ve spent the last five, well, alone.

Then I start to wonder, what patterns am I re-creating that lead to this? Am I subconsciously wanting to be alone, never connecting with truly available women? I like to blame circumstance, but there is one constant over the last two decades – me.

What I do know is this – for as much as I’ve wanted things to change in my life, each time an opportunity to really mix things up has presented itself, I have rejected it. A new job closer to home? Found a reason to turn it down. A woman that wanted to be a part of my kids’ lives? Dumped her. The opportunity to move to a new home? Decided to stay right where I am.

So despite all of my uneasiness with the mundane aspects of my life I seem hell bent on keeping it that way. Perhaps so I can feel sorry for myself? I like to think not, those days are long gone, or so I hope.

Maybe I am just a coward that likes to talk a big game but when it comes time to take action I bail? In the past five years I have completely changed my physique and my mindset. I am clearly capable and willing to change very difficult things.

It seems, however, I still have some hang-ups. Perhaps it is as simple as gratitude. Despite all I have done and all of the potential I possess, the one thing I am missing is gratitude for the mundane. For maybe, just maybe, the greatest joy can be found in those seemingly inconsequential moments of everyday life.

Perhaps the only thing needing to change is my ego stepping out of the way and allowing these days to have meaning just the way they are.

 

Observations From 48 Hours Without Social Media

As I typed that headline I realized the idiocy of it. Here I am somewhat proud of myself for spending just two days without logging into a social media site. Two fucking days. Sad.

This wasn’t some grand experiment. I didn’t set out to prove any point. I simple felt a bit overwhelmed by the information stream hitting me every single day.

I was feeding off the noise and getting fired up about events far beyond my control. I was in a constant state of tension, trying to make use of the constant barrage of data.

I woke up Thursday morning and decided I didn’t want to start my day with the influx of the day’s news. Then by lunchtime I found myself in a peaceful state of bliss and decided not to spoil it.

By the evening, in the gym, I was so focused that the only thing on my mind was hitting my next lift and breaking my previous rep record.

I’m not preaching here, some people are completely locked into the Twitter stream, they thrive on the ever shifting current. That’s not me.

Checking social media every free moment of the day left me feeling cracked. I was deep in the happenings of the online day but I was missing the big picture.

Often, when I have time to really think, I make connections between ideas that become new ideas themselves. That’s what the last two days has been like for me.

I have been taking pages of notes on thoughts that strike me throughout the day, even recording hours of memos that capture similar thoughts.

I can formulate these into posts and the book I want to write.

Another amazing thing happened without social media: I was able to read a book. Lately I had found myself reading only a few pages of a book before feeling the twitch to check Twitter. Subsequently, I had hardly finished any books this year.

Thursday night I read a big chunk of a scientific book on dysgenics and eugenics, connecting dots and building knowledge. I took a page of notes on that book alone.

I love Twitter, and I have no plans to quit or take a long-term sabbatical where I signal my moral superiority to others that stay on the site.

I am going to limit my social media usage to 30 minutes per day. Any more and the law of diminishing returns kicks in.

Twitter is great, but the opportunity cost is too high for me to spend much more than a few 10 minute breaks each day connecting and sharing with the smartest people I know.

That’s the rub, that sort of connection can be addicting in a world filled with normies. I need to connect like I need water. It’s essential. Only too much time lingering at the watering hole leaves me vulnerable.

I will use my blog to communicate more often, and if you have a blog I’ll gladly follow in wordpress, I have enjoyed catching up on some of the best blogs on the planet.

Additionally, I have moved several conversations over to Kik or other messaging apps, allowing for the same connection without the noise or censorship. Hit me up with your @ if you want to connect that way.

To conclude, all of the cliche stuff out there is true in my observations. Social media pulls me out of the present moment and creates a false sense of urgency that does nothing but increase anxiety and speed the passage of time.

By spending just 30 minutes (timed using the focus extension on Chrome) of focused time each day I stand to gain more from the experience. I have removed social media apps from my phone, but I can still post things like blog excerpts from third party apps if I see something that would interest my followers.

By not having social media on my phone I have felt a tremendous weight lifted from my shoulders. I am not in the business of breaking news. I want to share my journey to help other men. In order to do so I need to be in tune with myself to bring those ideas forward.

This blog, and my mission, goes far beyond the election or any news cycle. American men are waking up, and so long as they can find resources to help them along their journey they will continue to improve, and consequently our nation will improve with them.