Matt Forney
Spread the Word!

Knowing the Path vs. Walking the Path

20048891

NOTE: This article was originally published at The University of Man on May 27, 2012. I’m re-posting it here as the site is now defunct.

***

Hi, my name is Matt, and I’m a recovering beta.

I’m not here to flagellate myself for my past betatude, because I don’t want to bore you. I’m not here to regale you with awesome tales of all the tail I’m getting now that I’m an ass-kicking alpha male, because I’m not there yet.

I’m here to give you a warning about taking the red pill.

Matrix analogies are popular in the manosphere, hence the title of this post. It’s not enough to merely take the red pill, you have to live it.

I took the red pill four years ago. I still remember the day it all began. I was in my dorm room nursing a throbbing hangover after a night of debauchery (and of course failing to get any), blog-surfing, when I happened upon this odd little site called Roissy in DC. The blog I found Roissy through is long defunct, but that doesn’t matter. I didn’t have a thunderclap of revelation: “Whoah bro, this is some pretty heavy stuff.” I thought the blog was interesting, so I added it to my bookmarks.

It wasn’t until a few days later that I realized that I had gotten my hands on some pretty heavy stuff.

Poring over Roissy’s archives, my mind was gradually blown out through my ears. I spent what seemed like an eternity reading his blog, along with Roosh and other bloggers I found via his site. I’d been a chump all my life when it came to women, rationalizing away my failures by saying that I had “high standards.” Yes, I was one of those guys holding out for a mythical “good girl,” disdaining the “sluts” that my friends slept with.

At other times, I rationalized away my dismal love life by believing that “it would get better.” Once I had a decent job, a car, a cool lifestyle, then I would start worrying about girls. Never mind the fact that there were guys around me who were getting laid like carpet despite having nothing going for them by conventional standards; no jobs, no car etc. My rationalization hamster spun this inconvenient truth away easily: “Those girls those guys get are trashy. Quality girls would never sleep with a broke asshole.” Despite reading writers like Charles Bukowski and Tucker Max and their numerous sexcapades, I never managed to put two and two together.

Discovering game blogs enabled me to grab my hamster out of its wheel and wring its little lying neck once and for all.

So, having realized that I could get laid with a mere attitude adjustment and approaching girls more often, did I immediately hit the town macking on everything with a pair of tits? After spending a small amount on game material (The Mystery Method, The Game, and Roosh’s Bang, the former two which were a complete waste of money), did I become a super player alpha male sleeping with a different supermodel every night?

Nope. I went right back to the excessive drinking and video games.

Well, that’s not entirely true. I did make small changes to my lifestyle. I went to the mall and spent three weeks’ salary on a new, stylish wardrobe. I started going to the gym once a week. I joined clubs and tried to spend more time socializing, away from my circle of friends. But I never had the heart to follow the program all the way through. I never tried to approach girls without the crutch of alcohol, I gave up on the gym after a month, and I generally settled back into my old ways. I kept reading game blogs, but I never put their lessons into practice.

I knew the path; I practically had the directions memorized, and I had a GPS and a million maps to guide me. But I never walked the path. My thinking was red pill, but my lifestyle wasn’t.

Fast forward four years later to today. In a couple of weeks, I’m setting out on an insane cross-country trip armed with nothing more than what I can carry with my two hands. Financially and professionally, I’m in a far worse position now then when I first stumbled across Roissy in DC. I don’t care. Shock therapy is the only way I’ll ever be able to change my life.

This is the warning I want to give all you recovering betas out there: you need to pay your dues. There are no shortcuts and no secrets. If you’re a boring, out-of-shape guy, there’s no magic opener that will get girls to leap into your arms. You need to work. If you’re good at anything, whether it’s skiing or music or whatever, it’s because you learned about it and worked at it. If you don’t want to be a beta anymore, you have to shut up and do the work.

Taking the red pill isn’t merely a choice, it’s a journey.

So, keep reading game and manosphere blogs at your work computer. The truth needs to get out there. But if you aren’t approaching girls like mad at the bar or the coffeeshop after you get off at five, you’re just wasting your time.

I’ll see you on the road to recovery.

Read Next: You’ve Got Bigger Problems Than the Game