Matt Forney
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Entering Virginia’s Secret Garden; or, How to Troll the Manosphere for Fun and Profit

For the past three months, I’ve been writing a second blog under the nom de plumeVirginia Robinson,” soi-disant “red pill woman,” “Christian housewife” and “submissive.” In that time, I’ve made a three-figure sum hocking a halfwit erotica e-book, built a blog that gets about 500 hits a day from search engines alone, and assembled a nice coterie of beta orbiters.

Why am I telling you this now? Because if I have to write another article as “Virginia,” I’m going to vomit.

I trolled the manosphere, and I trolled it hard. This is my story.

Origin of a Trollblog

Virginia’s Secret Garden was the culmination of about a year’s worth of frustration and amusement at the more obnoxious quarters of the manosphere. Mainly, I was getting sick of both all the “red pill women” who were suddenly flooding in and doing a virtual striptease to the delight of every paper alpha jerking off in their blog’s comments. Don’t get me wrong; there are some smart and interesting chicks in this part of the Internet, and the mere presence of all these girls is proof that our ideas are gaining traction; women always side with the winners.

But after watching one girl detonate her marriage just so she could hook up with a manosphere blogger (and having my own share of “good girl” groupies), you’ll forgive me if I look askance at all these Janey-come-latelys.

If there was any single impetus for creating my troll persona, it was Kaitlyn Sploosh’s blog. No disrespect to Kaitlyn: I’m sure she’s a nice girl, and I know Jeremy in real life; he is a righteous dude. But watching all those chumps slobbering over her meandering articles and topless pics was too much for me to handle. It was time to take action.

I had a few other reasons for blogging under a female pen name. One was to exploit the massively underserved market for “red pill woman” books. Despite all their giggling and teasing, none of these girls seem the slightest bit interested in monetizing their blogs. I figured that if none of them wanted to make money, I’d gladly take all those ducats for myself.

I suspect that’s also a prime motivator for whoever’s running Return of Queens.

Additionally, I wanted to experiment with different writing styles. I was looking to improve my ability to write female characters and in a female voice; practice makes perfect. I also wanted to advance some ideas that I didn’t want to put under my real name. Even in the so-called “manosphere,” women can get away with saying and doing things that men can’t. When a man writes about how women crave being dominated, he’s called a monster; when a woman does it, she’s praised for being “honest.” Even if she’s attacked, she’s still given a measure of sympathy as a victim of Stockholm syndrome.

The hall was rented, the orchestra engaged. Now it was time to see if I could dance.

Birth of the Perfect Woman

I threw together Virginia’s Secret Garden over Christmas break, using my knowledge as a long-time online hustler (U C WAT I DID THAR?) to create what I thought was a bulletproof facade. Despite this, I still left two clues as to “Virginia’s” real identity. Her surname is derived from Journey to the End of the Night: in that book, Robinson was Ferdinand Bardamu’s nemesis. (“Virginia” was the name of an ex of mine.) More obviously, anyone who did a WHOIS lookup on VirginiasSecretGarden.com would see that it had the exact same IP address as MattForney.com. Finally, I all but gave the plot away during the live New Years’ Eve podcast I did with Davis Aurini and Remy Sheppard. I even re-Tweeted this on “Virginia’s” Twitter page in case people still didn’t get it.

The evidence was lying in plain sight.

A few people did know that “Virginia” wasn’t real:

  • Runsonmagic was the first to figure it out on his own; he intuited it based on his knowledge of the erotica industry.
  • Remy figured it out because I basically told him in that podcast.
  • Mitch Sturges and TempestTcup, who’d I deliberately linked to in “Virginia’s” first post in hopes of getting their attention, told me at the New Orleans meetup that they’d figured out the truth as well, though they still thought the whole thing was hilarious.
  • Kaitlyn and Jeremy Sploosh found out by accident: Kaitlyn emailed “Virginia” asking for a review copy of her book and I accidentally signed my reply with my real name.
  • Zampano I told because I was asking him for SEO advice.
  • Tom Wald I told just because.

There are a few other people who I either told or who I suspect found out on their own, but none of them come to mind right now.

As it turns out, my initial thesis was right: any woman, no matter how lackluster her writing ability, can get attention just by talking about sex. In the first month that Virginia’s Secret Garden was in operation, it rocketed up to around 800-1,000 hits a day due to a few articles going viral. The most notable articles include “My Husband the Rapist” as well as “Virginia’s” beginner’s guide to Christian Domestic Discipline (i.e. why you need to spank your wife to make God happy). I primed the pump by linking to “Virginia’s” articles on my Twitter account (a move that probably helped a few people figure out the truth) and seeding links to them on my blog, Roosh’s forum and other sites.

For comparison’s sake, Virginia’s Secret Garden got eighteen times the amount of traffic in its first month then MattForney.com got in its first month.

I also had other successes. Barely a week into the new year, a radio station in Calgary emailed “Virginia” offering to interview her for their morning show. Last month, I successfully trolled Donlak and Becky into talking about punishment spankings on their podcast. And of course, I was inundated with beta orbiters. I got at least two soppy emails a week from lovelorn guys praising “Virginia” for her femininity and wondering how they could get a wife like her. You can also see their groveling comments all over the blog.

virginias-secret-garden

Dear Sir or Madam, Will You Read My Book?

Crucial to my trolljob was my erotic story collection Daddy’s My Favorite Girl and Other Stories. As it turns out, I’m not the only person running this scam; as Runsonmagic told me, a large percentage of erotica is written by men using female pen names because women are only comfortable buying smut from other women. Not only that, the bar for erotica is so low that it’s buried in the ground. Several months back, I was hired on Fiverr to write a testimonial for an erotica collection; the writing was so bad that it would have failed a community college ESL class. Here’s an actual quote:

After a while, he lay on his back and asked me to suck his cock. His cock was huge. Some of my friends told me that black men usually had very big cocks and I did not know if that was true. However, it certainly was true in the case of the client lying naked with me in back that day. I put a condom on his cock and sucked it until he shot his load.

Wow, how riveting! Aren’t you feeling aroused?

Additionally, I had also read English Teacher X’s articles on writing erotica. I figured I could outdo him by making two tweaks. One, by establishing a brand in the form of the blog, I would be able to sell more consistently than if I were to just publish books on Amazon or wherever. Second, I would charge more than $.99 for my books (and subsequently write books that were long enough to justify higher prices).

With all this in mind, I decided to write my own smut collection. I should thank Arya Blue for inspiration; some of the links she posted on her Twitter page helped me come up with ideas. I knocked out eight stories over Christmas break, thematically linked around the “loss of innocence” and packaged them together in a single volume. After buying a custom cover, I was in business… or was I?

While Barnes & Noble and Smashwords accepted Daddy’s Favorite Girl as is, Amazon and the Kobo Store both rejected it because the title implied incest. Not wanting to pay for a redesign (which is also why the book says “Favourite” instead of “Favorite”), I hastily Photoshopped “My” onto the cover and re-uploaded it. Score!

Within the first month, I’d sold over $300 worth of copies.

Writing erotica is an enormously unglamorous enterprise. To be frank, it’s as fun as doing data entry. Unless you’re willing to go into taboo territory—say, describing a girl who gets banged in the ass so hard that her bladder bursts and she pisses herself—you’re basically just finding new synonyms for “fuck,” “dick” and “pussy.” While I like to think that my textual porn is above average (mainly because I know how to spell), it felt like an assembly-line production from beginning to end.

I have no clue how people can write erotica for fun.

Nonetheless, this assembly-line book got me a nice chunk of change and I was prepared to write sequels… until a month ago.

The Rise and Fall of Virginia Robinson

I had planned to keep Virginia’s Secret Garden going for at least a year, at which point the site would have accumulated enough SEO juice and credibility to become a source of passive income. My blueprint for the site was based off a short-lived trollblog I’d written a year ago called Schwyzered.com. After Hugo Schwyzer wrote that ridiculous Jezebel column on why straight guys should let their girlfriends peg them, I was planning to pull a Santorum and turn “schwyzer” into a synonym for getting fucked in the ass with a strap-on, all the while ridiculing male feminists in general. Unfortunately, a botched database update led to all my work being wiped out; lacking any backups, I gave up a week into the project.

The only remaining evidence of Schwyzered.com is the long-dormant Twitter page.

I’d been planning to write Schwyzered.com for at least a year and had sketched out a loose character arc for its intrepid author, Butt-Boy. His backstory is that he was supposed to be a proud male feminist and pegging enthusiast living in Portland, Oregon with his “pleasantly curvy” girlfriend Dick-Girl. After a series of expository posts in which he talked about his upbringing in the “intolerant” land of upstate New York and his molestation as a child, Butt-Boy would become so enamored of pegging that he’d stop having actual sex with Dick-Girl. Frustrated with her perverted simp of a boyfriend (though he would be too dense to figure it out), Dick-Girl would pressure Butt-Boy into a polyamorous relationship, in which it’s implied that she gets laid way more than him. Finally, their relationship would devolve into cuckoldry, Butt-Boy crying in the corner while watching the love of his life getting railed by strapping black bucks.

The story/blog would end with the two breaking up, Dick-Girl leaving Butt-Boy to peg himself with his collection of unwashed buttplugs while she ran off with a man who wasn’t a complete fag.

When I sat down to create Virginia’s Secret Garden, I wrote a similar character arc. Virginia Robinson was to be a young housewife living in the Midwest (Iowa specifically) who had salvaged her marriage by discovering both the Red Pill and Christian Domestic Discipline. While on the surface their relationship was perfect, I planned on sowing the seeds of doubt as time went on. For example, the fact that Virginia’s husband had been a player before marrying her. The fact that she was an “everything-but” virgin before tying the knot (i.e. one of those religious girls who will do blowjobs, dry humping, buttfucking, everything but vaginal intercourse). The fact that she had to prod her husband into becoming more of a man (if your wife has to badger you into being “alpha,” are you really alpha?).

And the obvious contradiction of a supposedly devout Christian writing about her sex life in graphic detail on the Internet.

I planned to end Virginia’s blogging career with a bang: her head flush with constant praise from her beta orbiters, she would announce that she was divorcing her husband with a flurry of hamsterbations. After surrendering sole custody of their newborn son to her husband, she would announce that she was moving to the big city (Chicago) to restart her career as a librarian and “find herself” (by sucking off every douchebag in Wrigleyville). The fallout from her “betrayal” would last for weeks.

So why am I giving away the ending now?

Simply put, writing Virginia’s Secret Garden is making me nauseous. The praise that “Virginia” gets from men, the confessions piling up in her inbox, the weak-ass attempts to win her over: all of it is unbearable. I thought that making fun of these people would be good for a few laughs; instead, I just feel like a jerk. As pathetic as some of these guys’ panegyrics to “Virginia” are, intentionally deceiving people for the purpose of mocking them is a lousy thing to do.

I felt like a teenage boy who steals his little sister’s diary just so he can read it aloud to his friends.

With that, I’m signing off Virginia’s Secret Garden for good. I’ve pulled “her” book from sale and I doubt I’ll be renewing the domain in December. While, as I said, the blog is getting a good amount of search traffic (despite being dormant for nearly two months), it’s not something I want to continue doing.

I Guess We Learned Not to Do it Again

Despite all this, I learned a couple of valuable lessons from writing Virginia’s Secret Garden.

The first is that women really do have it easier, even when blogging pseudonymously. Yes, we all know this to a certain extent, but having experienced it, I have actual proof. All you lady bloggers reading this article have no idea how good you have it. Even in the so-called “manosphere,” you can get twice the attention that men do even when you only work half as hard. I don’t get mad at this anymore, not after figuring out how to leverage it for my own gain.

If you can’t beat ’em, bilk ’em.

The second is that inventing an entirely new persona is far more difficult than it seems. This is why I laugh at people who accuse me or other bloggers of trolling and running sockpuppets. Reorienting your entire writing style in an attempt to fool people requires an enormous amount of work, enough so that only a clinical psychopath could pull it off. On average, I spent three times as long writing “Virginia’s” posts compared to my own, trying to affect a more girly, emotive writing style, and I still got found out because bits of my persona leaked out into her articles.

Sorry dorks, there really are that many of us evil “misogynists” out there. Feeling a little scared? You should be.

While this will be the last time I attempt a project on this scale, the lessons from writing Virginia’s Secret Garden will likely inform my future work. I’ve learned more about how to craft a convincing female voice and how to create profitable brands out of thin air, which will make my future writing that much better.

As the idiots say, it was a learning experience, one I won’t be repeating.

Read Next: “You’re Just a Troll”: The Manosphere vs. the Narcissistic Left