Posted by Omega To Alpha in Jul 11, 2013, under My Story
This, ladies and gentlemen, is not a blog about triumph. It’s not a blog about ridding myself of a massive time- and money-sink and her two kids. This blog is about a journey to self-respect. Many people find the Red Pill Theory to be “cheap” ways to exploit the female mind to get sex. If you think that, then you’re still in The Matrix. The Red Pill Theory is a way to get men to respect themselves, their time, and their resources. As luck happens to turn out, women are naturally attracted to men who have self-respect. So, sex and women is just a by-product of the Red Pill Theory.
Don’t feel that you’re reading the blog of another Red Pill expert here to preach to you about how evil women are and not to fall into their “shit tests”. I’m neither a Blue Pill nor a Red Pill. I’m Neo, standing in front of Morpheus who has outreached arms, inching towards the red pill.
I see it in your eyes. You have the look of a man who accepts what he sees because he is expecting to wake up…
Swallowing the red pill isn’t an easy task. While the articles and information that The Red Pill provides is great, it’s not as simple as reading and understanding a few articles to become alpha. If it was, then everyone would be alpha! You need to adapt it into your lifestyle. You need to unlearn what you have learned. Snap out of the paradigm that you constantly need to impress women. No, forget that. You need to snap out of the paradigm that you constantly need to impress anyone. You seek no validation from others, but from within yourself. An alpha can go until his dying breath without needing someone saying, “I approve of what you do.”
Onto my story…
My wife (soon-to-be ex-wife) and I met in high school in my freshman year. She was skinny, hot, busty, and very promiscuous. Every desired trait that a young horny high school boy can ask for! We had protected sex many times (she took my V-card) when we were dating for that 1-2 month period, but she got “afraid of being too close to me”. She lied about having a tubal pregnancy (fatal when untreated) in order to push me away. And it worked. Of course, after waking my mom up at midnight to tell her that my girlfriend was pregnant.
Fast forward five years. I’ve been through college, I’m more experienced in the bed by four sexual partners than before. The learner has become the master. I find her on Facebook and see that she has a couple of kids from some guys that came after me, which I think isn’t a big deal because they need fathers anyway (cue Chris Farley “Stupid, stupid, stupid”). We start dating and everything is going fine. We go out to her aunt’s on 4th of July, get drunk, have sex, everything’s great. We alternate houses every weekend so she doesn’t eat all of my parents’ food, I don’t eat all of hers’. Things got shaken up when she told me she was late on her period. She had to stop taking her anxiety medicine, which turned my Doctor Jekyll into Mr. Hyde.
Every little thing I did caused her to have a panic attack (well, “tantrum” more like). Moving, breathing, talking, thinking. Her tantrums have had me driving home in rage and not getting an apology, but a sarcastic, “You’re really gonna leave?” “Yeah.” “Whatever. -door slam-” At this point, I’ve already paid for wipes for the kids since her mother is barely fiscally responsible enough to pay bills.
Even after witnessing this monstrosity that had devoured my previously amazing girlfriend, I stayed with her. I still helped out with money where I could, watched the kids for short periods of time. More than someone could ask of from a boyfriend. Why, you may be asking? Why did I sign up for this torture? Because I thought I couldn’t do any better. My own betaness had subscribed me to this horrid life because it felt, after only 20 years of life, that I’d be alone forever. Hell, it was so bad that when her sister-in-law was teaching the kids to call me “daddy” (after less than 2 or so months of dating), I said NOTHING. Society had trained me to think that taking care of single moms and their kids is a noble cause. Want an insider secret? It’s not. You gain little because you’re paying for someone else’s kid, and usually (9 times out of 10) the mother won’t appreciate you for it. It’s expected. Society expects betas to pay for the awesomeness of alphas. Now, when I say “awesome”, I don’t mean what the term means nowadays like a particularly good adjective for a hotdog. I mean “full of awe”. Being able to get a girl pregnant, skipping out, and not having to pay child support is awe-worthy.
Oh, so you’ve got money now, you say?
A couple of months into the relationship, I hit a financial rock. My job was giving me less work (contract work), and my parental unit had quit her job some months before, so I had to maintain my monthly car payment and car insurance, in addition to gas or my family would sink. I set out to find a job, and lo and behold, I got one! A full-time position! A lot more than my “$1,000 a month is a good month” mentality could handle. I was so excited to be able to help my struggling mother out and pay some bills for her since she raised me alone for 10 or so years of my life. Shortly after getting my job, my girlfriend says, “My mom and her boyfriend are pretty close to kicking me out. I need to get an apartment.” That’s…great, I guess. But she has no income. Guess she’s going out to the street, right? NOPE! BETA MAN IS HERE TO SAVE THE DAY! I tell her to run the math of how much I was making versus the cost of an apartment and BAM! I CAN AFFORD IT!…with $20 a month to spare…Oh, well. I was used to living on a tight budget. We move into the apartment (having to borrow money from my parents and brother since my first paycheck was prorated).
Life there was honestly complete hell. I would go to work, come home, and half the house was a mess. My wife had done nothing during the day. Constantly picking up bowls, taking out the trash, having to get my own dinner from the pot when I paid for the pot, the fire, the ingredients, the roof over her head, clothes on her back, etc., etc.
An important thing to note here is that I proposed to my girlfriend when she still lived at her mother’s. I didn’t have a ring. I never said “Will you marry me?” All I said was “I’m gonna put a ring on your finger someday.” Suddenly, engagement mode. She said we’re technically engaged even though I don’t have a ring and started picking wedding dates. We settled for earlier the next year (when we were in our apartment). A couple weeks before the wedding, we argue over something (what exactly escapes me). She goes into the bathroom and starts cutting, because I said “I don’t know if I still want to get married.” She eventually emotionally blackmails me into continuing with the marriage with threat over suicide. We got married, had our honeymoon, and came back to life as usual: hell.
A New Challenger Appears!
After being married for a couple months, my childhood friend messages me on Facebook asking if I want to hang out. He had been several states away from me ever since my sophomore year and hanging out with him was rare. So, we hung out, and decided that he could stay with my wife and kids as long as he gets a job. He did, and everything was grand!…until my wife and he started fighting over everything. He needed to clean up his mess? Fight. Wife likes the thermostat at 65 degrees at night? Fight. I only remember a distinct single instance where my wife (already not liking the new roommate a whole lot) told him that she did the dishes by hand (dishwasher was knowingly broken to everyone) so he should clean up the living room. He did, and she told me behind the scenes that she fixed the dishwasher. So, lie about doing work to get other people to do your work! Me, being the beta I am, tell him behind her back on what happened. Of course, he flips and she finds out that I told him. I get accused of back-stabbing, going against my wife, whole bunch of shit. Welcome, my dear readers, to my nightmare.
In addition to them fighting, my roommate had a very hard addiction to drugs and smoked pot in the apartment complex I lived at. This caused many fights (naturally) and I knew I couldn’t have that around the children. What would any rational person do? Kick his sorry drug-abusing ass out, right?! Not with BETA MAN HERE TO FUCK EVERYTHING UP! (cue cape)
The route between my work and my home (30 minute commute) was starting to get bad due to construction so I bring up the idea to my wife to move in with my mom. Yes, it would involve breaking the lease (owing thousands of dollars) but I would save time and not have to leave an hour before work and get there on time). So, we break lease and we bring our drug-abusing roommate with us (remember, I can’t stand up to anybody at this point because I’m convinced this is my last shot). They bring their arguments to the new living arrangement at my mom’s house, but now my parents are involved! Yippee.
My roommate moved out of my mom’s house in early August 2012. It wasn’t pretty, either. He and my wife had exchanged a few harsh words, calling her “morbidly obese” among other things. I was upset, so I used computer network attacks to keep his devices off the network while I slept (de-authentication attacks, for those interested). He texts me the next day, saying his devices can’t connect and that he needs to rebuild my mom’s network. I tell him that’s fine, but you need to talk to her first. Cue a shitstorm of “your mom needs to get her shit out of my basement” and “she needs to accept change”. I tell him to fuck off and not talk to me or my family again. He takes most of his stuff with him, however, including the phone that was on our plan (beeetttaaaa) and my mom’s house key. He comes back the next day fir the rest of his stuff and to drop off his house key and phone, and oh-so-conveniently left us a picture of his middle finger in the photos.
A couple months pass, and my wife receives a call from a bill collector that I owe $300 on a max’ed out credit card. I knew that I owed $2,000 from my actual credit card (thank you, wedding!) but not this $300. My initial reaction is: ex-roommate did it. So I contact him, and he says he knows nothing. I say “bullshit, fuck you” and leave. My wife texts me saying she got a message from him saying “You and your family need to watch your back. I know where you live.” and I start getting texts from a weird number saying how “good” my wife’s pussy felt. Assuming it’s my roommate, again. I argue with them for a while when they reveal that they did, in fact, have sex with my wife. My wife confirms it over Skype saying “Please don’t leave me”. I feel sick to my stomach for months. A pent-up rage towards my roommate for ravishing my wife, but it also happened shortly after he moved in so all those times I stuck up for him instead of my wife made me want to puke. I was her lapdog again. Anything she wanted, she could have. I was a dick. I fucked up.
Round 2: FIGHT!
You’d think that since my roommate moved out that all would be well, right? That’s what my wife told me. She was happy that he was gone, but not for long. Soon my wife and my mom started disagreeing in the same way. Even came to the point that my mom said I should look to live with my dad (which I didn’t, thank God). The fighting and arguing continued until I could pay off my credit card (which was promptly filled back up again) and my penalty for breaking my lease. So, off to a new apartment (where I still currently reside)! This one was 2 minutes from my work, so lots of money saved on gas. Meaning we had more money to, I dunno, contribute to savings? Hell no! We had shit to buy!
First Time Being Fired
Let me preface this section with this: I’m a hard worker (obviously). I can guarantee that my actions alone weren’t the only contribution to me being fired from my job. I am ultimately responsible for it, but my beta mind was far too lost. My wife had a NEED for me to constantly be on Facebook at work. Why? To bitch about the children, of course!” “Kid 1, did this!” “Kid 2 smeared petroleum jelly and water all over the floor!” (True story) I was her vent, and I had none. I wasn’t “allowed” to be sad, or angry. The hivemind insisted that I be happy just like everyone else.
Assuming direct control…
My employer caught onto me being on Facebook so much and called me out on it. Like any employer would. Thus, FIRED! Gone. Moved really close to my job to get fired from it 3 months later. Of course, my wife turned to me to find another job quickly (which I did in like a month, which is unheard of). We were tight on money, dreading each day that passed due to loans we had taken out. Finally, I got the confirmation e-mail that I was hired for a 3-month contract-to-hire! But my wife bitched about the pay. I didn’t have the nuts to tell her to shut up and adjust, so I requested the increase in pay. This caused my potential (now current) employer to get nervous, thinking I was some sort of a con artist. I had to practically beg for my new job because my wife pressured me into doubt.
Are you sure it’s okay for me to do your homework?
My wife had made very little efforts to try to get a job while I was supporting everything. She worked for a month at Wal-Mart during our stay at our first apartment but had to quit due to an injury. So, since she was useless in the workforce, time to go to school to learn a new skill! She chose an online unaccredited college. So, practically useless. But she wanted to feel like she was doing something in life so I kept my mouth shut. She eventually came to a point where the classes weren’t easy. It wasn’t as simple as looking up the answers. You needed to use…ah, what’s that word…where you have cognitive processes that come to a logical conclusion, oh, right,THINKING. Naturally, thinking isn’t in her repetoire. So, what is? Ah, right. Complaining to get her way. And that’s just what she did.
“Man, I was so busy with the kids today I didn’t have time for homework.” “I’ll do a couple.”
“I don’t feel like homework today.” “I’ve got it.”
“I’ve got a 1,000 word report plus two assignments plus blah, blah, blah.” “No problem.”
I was doing her fucking homework for her. ON TOP OF: Doing my own homework. ON TOP OF: Working. That led to a post on Reddit’s relationship sub-reddit that got a lot of attention. Everyone was calling me out on my stupidity. Why was I putting up with all this? Why don’t I have respect for myself? Why not make the princess do her own fucking work so I can pass my own classes?
When I said it got a lot of attention, I mean including my wife’s. She found the post and hounded me to transgress from my “sins”. And I did. I apologized. But, I threatened divorce if she ever requests for me to do her homework again or if she has those tantrums. Guess what? She did.
Enter: The Red Pill
In the aftermath of that post, I received a message from a Reddit user encouraging me to come to a sub-reddit called /r/TheRedPill. I was interested, so I took a look. There was a post for my /r/relationships post, and people mocking me for being a beta. I agreed, and that I needed to change, so I made a post explaining my intent to change and learn from them. Even joined their IRC (which inspired me to create this blog). I’ll use my posts from /r/TheRedPill to explain what happened from there.
Talked with some gents on IRC about next steps, including contacting divorce lawyer (calling one in a couple hours). My wife kept trying to get me to come home from school earlier than I said because I “promised the kids McDonalds” since they helped her clean a house that’s been dirty for a week. I told her “tough shit, I need to get my homework done.” I left school at about 10:15 last night (I told her 10:30 but the Internet kept dropping out, guess the routers were going into power save mode), she expected me to leave at 10:00. She tried using guilt, anger, concern, anything…to get me to do what she wanted.
I went home shortly after the Internet cut out and I got a call on my way home. My wife asked me if I eaten today. I told her that since I don’t eat breakfast and I skip my lunch that I haven’t eaten. She kept asking why I was being mean and I told her I wasn’t. She hadn’t fed the kids dinner yet since all of our dinners are frozen or crockpot dinners. So I stop by McDonald’s and got something for me and the kids. I get home and I avoid eye contact with her for the most part. She kept bitching and moaning about her diet and I let her have a bite of my McChicken. Shortly after, the kids went to bed. I had to take a shower so I went looking for a towel. I found one in the bathroom but my wife told me I couldn’t use it because it had been used to clean up shit. Because that’s the perfect place to leave the towel used to clean up shit. I got out of the shower and put some underwear on.
That’s when the interrogation began. She kept mentioning that I was being distant and the last time I did this I wanted a divorce. I was getting coffee at the time so she practically cornered me in the kitchen not allowing me to escape. I just kept insisting that I was tired from the day. She said “you haven’t told me you love me all day” so I give a forced “I love you”. She asks why it seemed forced but told her because she forced me. It eventually gets close to midnight and I need to go to bed. This is the part where I erred because I said “can I go to bed?” I shouldn’t have to ask her but whatever. We both got in the bed and I slept facing away from her like usual. I feel her arm wrapped around me which she doesn’t usually do. I don’t budge and try to play it off like I’m asleep.
Fast forward to this morning she gets up with me to have another discussion. She said that while I was dreaming last night I said “I hope she doesn’t find out “. Trying to guilt me for cheating when I was literally just doing homework. I guess that’s what one gets when you try to improve your future with her. You get accused of cheating. I told her “dreams are dreams “and left it at that. She brought up me being distant again this morning and the fact that I was like this before when I want to divorce. I just told her I was still tired from yesterday’s work. She tried to kiss me multiple times but I don’t really put forth the effort. She then offers for me to stick my face in her boobs to wake me up but I told her that the coffee will do just fine. After that she heads back to her room and I headed to work.
Update since my last FR. During lunch, a divorce lawyer contacted me and scheduled a meeting with me set for Monday evening due to the 4th of July. Looking good. I get off work and my wife offers to get some 3DS’s since I wanted one and got an unexpected unemployment check. On the way to get them, she shows me a picture on her phone saying, “I didn’t want to show you since I didn’t believe it, but I have to.” Picture of a positive pregnancy test. FTR, I never had sex with her since I decided to go down the Red Pill route. She didn’t mention much past showing the picture besides how it’ll affect her weight loss spree. I can’t deny, I’ve been pissed for the last day and a half over it. I “wanted” a baby with this girl for a year and a half and now, when I am divorcing, she’s pregnant. I’m hoping a) she miscarries or b) it’s a false positive or c) it was a fake picture used to manipulate. Regardless if she’s pregnant, I’m doing this. A $300-400 monthly check is nothing compared to this emasculating psychological trauma.
We end up getting the game consoles and a few games (Angry Birds, Cooking Mama, and LoZ: OoT) and go out to eat. We stop by some stores to replace some MORE shit of hers that was broken and to pick up some playing cards for me to justify her purchases. Get home, play our games, and sleep. Once I got up (on my day off), it was planning mode. Going to the laundromat, going to pick up some herbs for her depression (I can hear the Red Pillers shout “are you fucking kidding me?!” right now), finish up at laundromat, buy some food for her mom, and go over there for July 4. I have been VERY lucky in that they let me play games the whole time. My wife keeps making comments about me bring “mean” and making me do shit I don’t want to do. Just holding out for Monday.
UPDATE: We had a fight tonight. She tells me, “You need to skip school on Tuesday because we need to go to the food pantry.” Wait, what? We just went out and got a shitload of food.
I tell her, “I’m going to fail if I miss too much time.”
“No you won’t, you have plenty of time left.”
“I have 5 weeks of 15 left. Why do we need to go to the pantry? We have plenty of food.”
“You already said it was okay.”
“You’re literally placing greed over my ability to graduate. But fine, I’ll go Wednesday instead of Tuesday.”
“No, Wednesday I have to go to the gym.”
This goes on for 15 minutes in front of her mother and my voice starts raising, getting pissed off that this fucking landwhale is putting her well-being above mine. Her mother eventually stops us and thinks teaching the bitch to drive will solve all of our marriage problems. PLEASE LET MONDAY COME SWIFTLY.
To those who still care about my story:
On Friday, I hopped on IRC and chatted with the gents there about what to speak with my lawyer about (meeting this evening). I’ve got the following:
Living arrangements for her and the kids? My name is the only one on lease. What about right to live?
Costs? How much do I have to contribute to her living expenses during divorce?
Kids? I can’t (and shouldn’t) take them due to my working 8-5. How will the courts view them?
How to get her to move out?
When do I move money?
Division of assets?
If there is anything you can think of that I’m missing to ask my lawyer, please post in comments.
Wife and I went out for a dinner date for her to try to “rekindle the fire” of our marriage (by going out to eat for the 7th night in a row and seeing a movie). Got some good (expensive) food and went to see This Is The End. Fuckin’ best movie ever. Laughing the whole way through. But, as chance would have it, the evening was ruined before I could leave the parking garage. Some idiot high school kids were trying to leave and thought it would be funny to rev their engine and slowly inch towards my car, which had been sitting in line. I keep honking my horn, trying to get them to stop, but they keep going. Eventually, I pull up far enough to let them out and they start revving their engine behind me. I swear if I had a crowbar I’d bash their window in. Only reason I bring this up is to ask this: How would an alpha act if some high school kids slowly inched towards your car as a joke? My guess is to just ignore them until they hit your car and then beat the shit out of them.
Saturday, we went to her aunt’s 4th of July party. Had to burn practically a half tank of gas to get out and back (one hour drive each way). My wife buys a 6-pack of Mike’s Hard for us to share among 3 people (her, her sister, and me), which, if you remember my last post, starts putting some things into perspective. So I drink my two Mike’s and leave it at that. My wife has two Mike’s and does a shitload of Jell-O shots. She’s drunk by the time it’s dark, which puts me in a foul mood because I have to put up with the kids. The one time I call her out on her shit (in front of her family) is when I’ve already changed the shittiest pull-up I’ve ever changed and taken the oldest to the bathroom, and she wants me to get the girls juice-boxes while she gets hammered. A quick “Really?!” gets her sorry ass out of the seat to get them. I watched the fireworks alone because she wanted to sit with her aunt and the kids, which I don’t really care about. Gave me some time to think about everything and the night’s events just reinforced my decision. Yes, it’s gonna be hell. Yes, I’m gonna get fucked over for being the biggest beta “nice guy” white-knight. But yes, I’m going to be happy after it’s over.
Sunday is when the shit hit the fan (aka “Homework Day”). I was doing some stuff with LINQ (which I’ve never used before so I was getting frustrated), wife was doing math homework. Her + math = bitch fits. And boy, did she throw them. Kept yelling about how she “can’t do this” and she’s “dropping out of school”, all stuff I’ve heard 1,000 times, so I’m unfazed. After she yelled her usual shit, she screams, “Are you gonna help me?!” I reply softly, “You’ve never asked me for help.” Cue more bitch fits. Now, to the people thinking I should’ve said “I’m not gonna help you unless you calm down”, I’ve tried that and it does nothing. I had to switch it up. Granted, I did help her but her sister took most of the brunt because her sister saw that I was trying to do my homework. Her sister is 17 (wife will be 23 in a week) and pretty smart, so it seems that she’s the only good apple among a sea of rotten ones. I manage to get my homework done after fighting with the compiler and my wife finishes about an hour before me. We take her sister back to her mom’s place (half hour each way) and wife is feeling too lazy to cook (fuck me). We go to the grocery store to buy dinner for the 8-9th night in a row and she drops this bomb: “So, I got my period this morning.” Thank. Fuck. “So we gotta buy pads.” I pretend to put on my sad boy face and say, “I’m sorry to hear that” when inside I was screaming “I CAN FINALLY GET RID OF YOU!” We buy dinner, pads, and tampons, and go home. I spend the rest of the evening playing Assassin’s Creed: Revelations to vent some pent-up anger. She tries to put on some sexy moves to make me smile and I only put up with it to maintain the illusion so the divorce hits her like a fucking freight train.
This divorce is my only shot at revenge with her, so I have to make it count.
A lot went down yesterday. I talked to my lawyer and he was a complete idiot, honestly. He didn’t know about my state’s 180 day residency requirement and his solution was to file early, get an “oopsie-daisy” on filing too early, and file again. I asked him the questions I had and left.
My wife had expected me home about 2 hours before I actually did (due to the meeting). Because of that, she freaks out and calls my mom to let her know that she hasn’t heard from me in an hour (I know). She says I smell like cookies, though, which indicated that she thought I was cheating on her. I blame it on traffic (3 hour commute, supposedly), and chill in my room. After dinner, we have to go to the store because she has a hankering for chocolate. I’m livid at this point. Constantly spending money, walking around like a princess. But I let her, because I was a man with a plan to get away from her. That anger slipped out on the car ride home, however, when I basically pointed out how much my life would be better without her.
We fought for a long time in the house, and while I was angry, my voice never went above a quiet talking. Her, not so much. I’m surprised the cops weren’t called. Eventually, divorce was brought up. I told her I wanted one and she freaked out, flipping from angry, to desperate, to sad, and all over again. At one point, she got on top of me (I was sitting in a chair playing vidya prior) to prevent me from fleeing. I kept telling her “no, it’s over” that she hugged my head and squeezed it really tight. Assault? Maybe. Was I gonna put her in prison and stuck with the kids in the meantime? Hell no. Eventually it got to a point where it clicked with her and she started setting up places to live. Got one scheduled for her to live on Sunday, so I’ll just have to live with her until then.
We started divvying up assets, what we wanted. Practically anything she had prior to the marriage or anything I or any family member bought for her are hers. Which, unfortunately, include the bed her mother bought for us. Couch it is! She wants to remain friends during and after the divorce, which I’m fine with during (no animosity means shorter divorce and more money saved) but definitely not after. This woman came close to ruining my life, destroying my relationships, draining all of my bank accounts, making me feel like a dog on a leash and then blaming it on me for not communicating. I slept on the couch last night but could barely sleep.
She woke me up at 2 AM, saying she couldn’t sleep, which is great because I have work at 7 AM and haven’t gotten a wink of sleep. She says “Can we try to work on things until Sunday and if they don’t work, we’ll divorce?” I said, “No, it’s happening.” Half hour of bickering later and a quick, “I’ll think about it tomorrow.” sends her to bed. She messages me this morning and asks if I thought about it and I told her I’m sticking with my decision. There was a little resistance but “I’m not arguing over this again” made her stop. She came to her senses and started talking about moving. She has no money so I have to pay for the U-Haul (her parents won’t pay for it because they’re broke too). And she needs money for wipes and pull-ups and blah, blah, blah. I’m paying it now so I can keep her happy so the divorce is easier. Spend a little money to save a lot of money.
On a brighter and less beta note, I set up a new bank account and my employer is hooking up direct deposit to it. She has no access to it.
Before anyone starts, yes, I’m being incredibly beta right now. I’m not alpha. Not even going to pretend I am. This is just my journey.
That Brings Us To Now
My wife and I are living together until she can find living arrangements, and I’m planning on moving closer to my new job in a month when I’m eligible for transfer. Once she and the kids are gone, I’m full-on redpilling and trying to restore my life. Now’s not the time to waiver. Falling into my blue-pill habits will only destroy me. I need to persevere, and change. My life has gotten me nowhere from buckling and only saw change when I would stand up. Again, this isn’t a blog about how evil my wife is, but an improvement from an omega to an alpha.