I've written before on how I've had the desire to lead others, yet fallen short when it comes to exericising that desire due to my pig-headed unwillingness to use coercive force to compel others to my will.
Sometimes, I get bored and read the blogs of other young manosphere denizens like me, folks in their early 20s, and when I read about some of their goals and what they're building themselves towards, such as establishing a harem, I catch myself thinking "more power to them, but I could never quite do this."
Not that I don't have the desire to - I'm sure every straight, hot-blooded male has fantasised about being waited on hand and foot by a gaggle of HB 10s.
And that goes for other...ah, less-than-squeaky-clean desires I've had over the course of my life so far. Desire for violence against certain people, for example. Desire for this whole wretched world to come to a screeching halt, which you folks should be well-acquainted with if you're regular readers of this blog.
But I don't do it. Or well, I would with abandon glee, but there's this part of me that has to be convinced that it's right. That's where problems begin cropping up. There's this scene in Harold and Kumar go to White Castle where the titular characters come across a traffic light in the dead of the night. Despite there being no cars on the road and Kumar egging him on, Harold refuses to cross because the light is red, and neither Harold nor Kumar can proceed without the other, nor can they understand each others' behaviour.
So while other young folks like me may be out building harems, be they hard or soft, and all the more power to them, my plan for after the Cathedral's inevitable demise is to find a nice introverted girl with some semblance of a moral compass (hahahaha!), turn up the Game and alpha to full throttle, and settle down to raise a brood while keeping the alpha flowing at a steady pace. That's one thing both my desire and morality can agree on, at the very least. It's a lot easier to swallow if you reframe it in terms of creating value.
Koanic has written about his experiences with this whole thing:
Of course, I didn’t get far with Game due to biological reasons. So I started wondering if maybe I was failing because I hadn’t really gotten into the spirit of things. Maybe I needed to pop my cherry and start banging girls in order to become a man. The idea had a certain logic to it.Even after entering the manosphere...
This was a huge moral battle for me. Ultimately I was willing to gamble my soul on the chance of becoming useful. While that is epicly stupid, I think I get points for having my heart in the right place. Being useful is my highest priority, and to this day it still outranks self-preservation. Nevertheless, it is better to obey, and I suffered the consequences of my sin.
Anyway, it was an off-and-on thing, but I banged my way through a low-double digit string of chicks. It was fun at times, but mostly I hated it...
That’s a point I really want to emphasize. Don’t assume that you’re weak just because you’re an introvert who’s not up for casual sex. There’s a better way to fully satisfy your need for self-respect. You don’t have to degrade your soul.
Even after knowing the truth about how practically all women behave...
Even after having tested out the principles of Game on the lab ladies for the last six months and collecting empirical evidence that yes, even unattractive, quiet, homely HB 2-5s who're practically starved for male attention being shut up all day in a laboratory will still behave largely in accordance to the observations that various Game sites make...
I still sometimes wonder to myself how I can still hold onto the dream of finding a nice introverted girl with some semblance of a moral compass. In my twenty-five years of existence, I've only run into one such specimen of womanhood when I was eighteen - bespectacled, quiet, didn't mix around with the other ladies, and generally unobtrusive save when she scored top in the class on this exercise or the other.
Not sure if she read up on gut flora, though.
And that leads me to wonder if I'm truly being moral, or if I'm just hiding behind the excuse of being a moralfag and being a big pussy with all the attendant problems.
That's why I'm in the Vox/Ironwood camp, I guess; they thoroughly understand red pill interactions and yet conduct themselves in a manner that befits good old-fashioned moralfag men, as opposed to the pump and dump routine aimed at racking up notches.
Some days I feel as if the inside of my head is occupied by two people: the little guy with the horns and pitchfork screaming "you can take him! You can take this bastard, it's why you've been hitting the weights for eleven years!" and the little guy with the halo yelling "don't get into a fight, you dumbass! Sure, you could take him, but do you really want to end up in a prison cell and fuck up the rest of your life?" Alternatively, the back of my head is saying "rules are for cro-mags, you lame pussy!" and my face is saying "you'd better damn well follow the rules if you don't want the tribe to send you on the long walk."
That's desire and morality for you, folks.
Interestingly, Vox Day has had a recent post on this, where he concludes:
In Z's case, the risk of being arrested, kicked out of the club, or even shot rendered physical conflict undesirable. It's not the Alpha act, but then, Alpha is not synonymous with wise or optimal.You have to wonder, especially since this post came at about the same time I'm reflecting upon this kind of stuff. Ultimately, no I don't believe that my moral code is flawed; there are plenty of higher callings in life than sex and coming out on top in violence. And yet at the same time, I think I need to examine my actions and try and figure out whether I'm using my moral code as a gamma shield of sorts, an excuse to not face conflict and confrontation, an excuse to not reach out of my comfort zone. And yet as Vox points out, the alpha thing to do is not always the right thing to do.
If I were a lot quicker on my mental feet and could quickly analyse situations, I guess I could make snap judgements as to whether to throw my lot in and still feel good with myself even when I come out victorious. For now, all I do is look back at these events, and hindsight is 20/20. I should have stood up for myself. I should have sent all those junior cadets chewing dirt. I should have dropped the insane writer chick instead of letting myself be guilted into taking her back.
Or should I have, in some of those cases? Which ones are rightly growing a spine, and which ones would have led to creating dissonance in me?
Desire vs. morality.