I lost.

All of the frame-building, lifting, meditation, eating right, IDGAF attitude, objective thinking and Machiavellian thought processes could not have prepared me for the man-eater. Just like a regional chess champ playing the Grand Champion in disguise, I was completely out of my league and due to my own ego and hubris I failed to respond the tell-tale signs of my own impending demise. I had the proverbial rug swept from beneath my feet before I even knew what Game I was playing.

"The Man-Eater"

I don't know what sex appeal is. I don't think you can have sex appeal knowingly. The people who seduce me personally are the people who seem not to know they're seductive, and not to know they have sex appeal. -Omar Sharif

On Monday, I met with a regionally-renowned stripper it’d met on a dating site. We’ll refer to her as ”Delilah the Man-Eater™”.

Although I’d only just begun hanging with Delilah, she and I had gone to the same high school years back. Back then, she was what you’d probably call a PlainJane™. She was easily forgettable, sported an average appearance, wore dull and drab attire; she was that wall-flower that always seemed to blend back into the tapestry. After high school, due to a lack of options and poor grades, she’d gone military. It was there that a handful of drill sargeants and basic training had sculpted her into a masterpiece of a figure from her doughy box-like frumpish frame. Upon returning to civie life, she’d heard about the easy money and fast lifestyle of stripping through an old friend that we’d mutually known (who we’ll introduce later). Before she knew it, she was making thousands a night, flying to Dubai and snorting cocaine off of diamond trays in the passenger’s seat of lime green Lamborghinis.

And Delilah was beautiful. There was no rating scale for her. She’s the type of woman considered betas nonexistent and the alphas as providers-to-be. If there is two things she had in abundance, it was men and money.

While we sat in the bar together playing pool and discussing our pasts, I mentioned how it was odd that I’d never seen her on social media before.

“I don’t really see the point.” she sighed, pulling out her phone. “It’s the same thing every time.”

Delilah then showed me her PoF account. Her messages had reached a whopping 99+ (most of which were unread, of course), her matches were at 99+ and her views were at 99+. All from Monday. Then she let me browse around.

Her inbox was a graveyard of pick-up lines and thirsty attempts from men all over the county (some of which I recognized). In that inbox I saw every corny one-liner, neg attempt, sly compliment, PUA phrase, one-worded approach, desperate self-degrading remark and peacock line I’d had ever heard, seen, or thought to myself. These guys were from different races, appearances and walks-of-line and every one of them was being ignored.

I remember thinking, “Wow, all of these reek of desperation”.Every one of them. Maybe it was the sheer volume. Maybe it was the lack of confidence in their profile pictures. Maybe it was the blatant peacocking or low self-image or over-compensation efforts that oozed from their replies. But in 1-2 messages and one picture, it all communicated… insecurity.

I asked her why out of all of these messages, she’d picked mine out.

“Your message just was so… forceful.” she replied retrospectively. “I thought it was kind of hot. Plus I knew you from before so I thought, ‘what the hell’. And, well, here I am.”

“Come hang out with me Monday.” That was my message. Then I told her where and when. Two messages. That was all it took to out-maneuver my waves of competition.

NOTE: Avoid asking a woman questions as often as possible. Out of Mark Manson’s Models, I believe this is one of the most useful pieces of advice. Instead of asking “what are you doing this weekend?” say “Come out with me this weekend.” Use periods. Be short. Be demanding. Be authoritative. Trust me.

She downed 3 double-shots of Hennessy like spring water then confessed that she was bi. She recently had a threesome with her best friend and her ex-alpha last month and liked it. She told me she was now actively pursuiting women as well.

She then showed me her “other” PoF account.

Same shit, different gender. 99+ all around. What was really interesting about this account however was who was flirting with her. I saw various messages from one of my plates, my friend’s current girlfriend (I laughed openly about this one), a girl in my social circle and a past fling of mine. How peculiar.

She paid for both our drinks (roughly $60, more on this later) and wanted to meet up with a female friend of hers. I obliged. We hoped in my car and sped down the highway.

Minutes before we arrived, she asked me to pull into a gas station. I was running low on gas, so again I obliged. While I pumped, I noticed her pulling out a large amount of money from her purse. A very large amount of money.

“How much cash is that?” I inquire. “Uhh, 9 grand I think. I haven’t counted it in a few days.”

She was casually walking around with $9,000 dollars in cash in her purse. I was stunned.

“What?” she remarked after seeing my expression. “ I made $5300 of this last night off of just one guy. He thought he was going to fuck me. Poor thing.” she cooed, poking her bottom lip out.

She gave me $100 for gas and told me to keep the change.

I went inside to piss and buy a drink. I came back outside to a white Civic parked suspiciously close to my car. A burly gruff-looking guy in a white wife-beater was swearing loudly out his window at Delilah. Delilah through money at him and it scattered throughout the Civic’s interior. I went over to see what the hell was going on.

On my driver’s seat sat a bag of cocaine. A very big bag of cocaine. The most cocaine I’d ever seen. She’d called this poor sap to deliver this large quantity of drugs to her like a pizza delivery boy and was purposefully short-changing him, regardless of the 9K in her purse. The guy have driven 40 minutes to find her.

Now drug-use usually doesn’t bother me, but this was ridiculous. I was livid.

“Well, I knew you wouldn’t take me to him (she was right), so I told him to come to me. I really needed a fix. I’ll give you half.”

I passed.

She then proceeded to cut lines on my iPad and snort in public. I scolded her for being reckless with my iPad.

“I’ll buy you a new one” she half-heartedly sighed. She stuffed $800 in my glove compartment.

’I have no power here.’ I thought to myself. She knows she can do whatever she wants and buy me off and I was willing to let her. I was her prostitute. OmLaLa the sugar baby. No frame or physique in the world could overcome such raw independence.

I was curious. I asked her what she needed me for if she has all this money and influence.

“Dick and company.” She replied simply. “I also know you’re fucking Plate #3. She told me over PoF when I brought you up.”

Dammit, Plate #3 you beautiful bitch. You may have inadvertently gotten me laid.

I told her in that case we should just go back to my/her place and fuck.

“I don’t need dick yet.” she sighed. “I just need company.” She put another $200 in my glove compartment, holding eye contact.

There it was again; my time, attention and validation was being whored out. I was no ordinary prostitute. I was a validation prostitute. And I let it happen. But who could blame me? $1100 for my time seemed well worth it. So I let the cocaine thing slide and we went to meet her friend at a nearby bar. We’ll called her Jezebel.

I remembered Jezebel. She had gone to our high school too. She has since went through a marvelous transformation, similar to Delilah’s.

And Jezebel was beautiful too. On terms of solid attractiveness, I felt outmatched by these two. Jez and Delilah often went ‘strip club hoping’ up and down the coast together and had been tight for years. Jez was upset because her boyfriend had gotten locked up for drug trafficking and she was too broke to bail him out (I believe she had a serious drug addiction, but it was hard to tell).

Delilah whipped out another large sum of money and nonchalantly passed Jez enough for her man’s bail. She also gave Jez two months of her rent.

Delilah then turns to me and passes $100 under the table.

“A man always buys the drinks.” She whispered coyly and winked. I felt dirty.

We bought round after round of shots then we piled into my car and drove out to some large abandoned grocery store parking lot.

I smoked (bad habit, I know) while I drunkenly watched Delilah and Jez do line after line of coke and other drugs while dancing in front of the car’s high beams and listening to Lil Wayne over maxed-out speakers. I was so far out of my zone that I’d become nothing but a passenger on their drug-induced adventure. We all laid on the hood of my car and watched at the stars. We eventually made out for a while before I drunkenly proposed we go back to my place.

“Okay.” Delilah purred. “But no sex and noooo kissing.” Jez giggled.

We got to my place and me and Delilah started kissing. Jez silently backed towards the wall and watched us intently.

Delilah the stopped abruptly and backed towards the wall next to Jez.

“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do.” Delilah chirped happily. She hands her phone to Jez.

“Jez is gonna call Kevin to come pick us up.” Jez made a disgusted face at the sound of Kevin’s name, so I’m guessing they weren’t close. “Kevin doesn’t live far from here. You have until Kevin gets here to fuck Jez. And I’m gonna watch.” Jez’s face remains solemn. They’d planned this out from the start.

Jez drunkenly admitted she had a thing for me in high school and wanted to live out some fantasy of hers. I drunkenly obliged.

I start with Jez and the timer begins. Apparently they both also had some partner swap/watching fetish too, because Jez was very “in the moment” and Delilah touched herself vigorously by the door.

As wonderful and passionate as the moment was, within 20 minutes a car pulled up by my apartment, bass shaking the windows. Mid-thrust and with an annoyed moan, Jez jumped off of me (sundress, no underwear), brushed herself off and silently walked out the door. I just sat there, confused.

Delilah hugged me goodbye. “Don’t worry,” she purred. “We’ll do this again sometime.”

She kissed me, groped me and shut the door behind her. And that was it. I sat there, my dick literally in my hands. I wish I had an RP moral or lesson for you all, but even now, 3 days later, I have no idea what exactly happened.

As simple and anticlimactic as that night was, it humbled me. I know what a true “devil’s daughter” is like now. The type of woman that sees men as mere tools, manipulative and analytical by nature. She had tricked me to fuck Jez just like she had tricked her drug dealer, her PoF orbiters, the sap in the strip club; she saw what she wanted from me and got it in a calculated and strategic way.

Maybe Delilah’s a Machiavellian too.

In recent years, life has become easy and comfortable.

"Dopamine"

"Addiction isn't about substance - you aren't addicted to the substance, you are addicted to the alteration of mood that the substance brings." -Susan Cheever

Want to watch a movie? You’ve currently got more movies in your living room on Netflix than Blockbuster’s had in their prime (what, roughly 1998-2003?).

Want to listen to music? Because of apps like Spotify and iTunes, you no longer have to go into a Best Buy (and deal with their quasi-sales customer service bullshit, but to each his own) to buy a physical copy of a CD. You can reach any song or genre or artist anytime, anywhere through your phone or tablet (Anyone else remember walkmen and CD players? What a fucking pain those were.).

Are you hungry? What was once a market dominated by Asian food and pizza (I was Papa John’s man, myself. Phrasing.), in recent years the food-delivery market has opened up to subs, sandwiches, Italian, cheeseburgers, hot dogs, etc.

Bored in line at the doctor’s office? Why not play one of the hundreds of games you’ve got on your iPhone (or Android, if you’re a really cool guy like OmLaLa) that you’ve downloaded like 3 months ago and never touched? (I’m willing to bet you still have Angry Birds on your phone but you haven’t played it in months. Why?)

Need to go shopping? You can browse Amazon or Ebay for whatever obscure items you need (you can buy a full suit of armor on Amazon for like $3,500 dollars right now. No lie. Go look it up. Now you can buy it for that one special white knight beta friend you’ve got as his Christmas gift. The ladies’ll love it.) and have it at your doorstep the next day (usually our Amazon delivery guy is either high or dealing drugs, so if that’s your thing it’s an added bonus).

Want to spin a plate from the comfort of your home?So long as you’re moderately attractive (no beer gut + receding hairline combos), there are dating sites (aside from Tinder, because honestly Tinder’s the ‘final boss stage’ of the dating site world) filled with desperate/wall-hitting women just waiting to be boned by a quasi-alpha/alpha like you (POF and Badoo are, to an RPer, like shopping at the dollar store with $500 in tow. Sure the merchandise is cheap, expendable, mundane, brittle, dusty, expired/outdated and will probably be trashed it in a week, but where else can you get a pack of 50 plates for $1? Costco? They have good prices too if you willing to pay $100 a year for a membership. It honestly pays for itself though, unlike Sam’s Club. Wait, what was I talking about?)

Need to chop some wood and you’ve got no plates on speed dial? Porn has evolved to the point where even people with the most obscure, odd and questionable fetishes imaginable (like chopping to Scrooge McDuck banging out Ms. Incredible in BDSM uniforms covered in maple syrup while Scrooge’s nephews triple team Sasha Gray and that chick from Twilight in a ’98 Chevy Colorado with Blue by Eiffel 65 remixed by Skrillex playing in the background) can have their disgusting needs fulfilled (I’m looking at you Kevin. I know that you’re reading this. Yes, I’ve opened that “New Folder” you’ve got hidden in your Downloads section).

It all boils down to two things about our day and age that have turned even the most rugged, robust men into betas:instant gratification and complacency

If I were still a beta (there are still a few things beta-esque I’m working on, but progress), I’d say these are great and comforting luxuries that we’re fortunate enough to enjoy.

But I’m not and these aren’t.

What these “luxuries” have done to a great deal of us (some RPers are included too. You know who you are. Kevin.) is made every asset of our lives way too damn easy. What an easy life does is it removes the necessity to have to work for anything because it’s all within an arm’s reach.

Dopamine is our brain’s natural rewards system (do something good, get dopamine, feel good about it), but because of instant gratification through these luxuries, most people have become addicted to dopamine. That addiction is not natural; our brains were not designed to handle the current ease of dopamine access. It’s also the cause of multiple levels of depression (the more dopamine you access, the harder it is to access it, so “happiness” becomes further and further from reach). Dopamine addiction is the main cause of complacency. Complacency makes you seek out and stick to what’s “convenient”. What’s “convenient” runs contradictory to RP ideologies:

You may be an RP head-nodder who agrees with a lot of things you’ve read on RP and the side bar but only utilize the ideologies in the short-term because focusing on this new mindset isn’t “convenient” for you right now. (i.e. as long as you’re here reading TRP and MAYBE a few hours after. I was guilty of this in the beginning)

You may subconsciously be on RP looking for PUA advice and as soon as you begin to receive female validation from your frame and higher SMV, you’ll abandon RP in pursuit of pussy because Pussy-Focus™ is “more convenient”. (Pussy is nice, but like Netflix it’s a luxury. You wouldn’t live your life in the pursuit of watching The Big Lebowski on Netflix, would you?)

You may only agree with some RP teachings and you’ve chosen which teachings are “more convenient” to follow. (i.e. you agree on frame and abundance mentality, but you may seriously still think NAWALT as you unknowingly kiss the post-ejactulate from Chad Thundercock’s midnight emissions off of WonderTits™ lips. Kevin, I’m sorry you have to find out this way)

You may follow RP ideologies religiously all the way through Monk Mode, depressed state, angry state, nihilism state, and awakened state, only to fall back into your same beta habits because they’re “more convenient”. (this has happened to me multiple times, if I’m being honest)

If any of the above cases are true for you, you are a dopamine addict like so many others. Complacency through dopamine addiction has been the downfall of all of your beta friends (scarce mentality, complacency, NAWALT and oneitis all go hand-in-hand) and will be the downfall of you if you’re not fully aware of it and actively preventing it. Everything in moderation.

Discipline is hard. Discipline is the antonym of complacency. Discipline is severing your ties with things, places, people that make you comfortable, complacent, and weak. Discipline is always going against your very human instinct that constantly seeks out order and predictability and comfort (Bernard D. Beitman, MD, Professor, Department of Psychiatry, University of Missouri–Columbia). Discipline is going for years striving for a goal knowing there is no instant gratification and you’ll never truly be complacent with what you have. Discipline is always wanting more because you deserve more.

Discipline is the basis of The Red Pill. You don’t just swallow the Red Pill once. You take your medication daily.