It was 2008, stepping into my acting troupe for the first time, coming out of my self-induced seclusion and depression. A group of interesting people, men and women, gathered together to make the best plays possible. This was a moment of great awakening, but also great sorrow – the kind of situation where one’s old assumptions are burned and new lessons are learned. I was dejected, with all the social graces of a wet noodle, who didn’t even know how to say “hello”. I was determined to make friends and recover my life, and somewhere deep inside myself, to find a masculinity I couldn’t find in a weak father.

Now, I never wanted for the affections of other women. I don’t know what it was about myself – there were other guys better looking than me, more accomplished, more sociable – but I pulled in female desire wherever I go. And yet, behind their eyes, there was great sadness, confusion, self-loathing, and overall pain. Even the most innocent-looking women were touched by this corruption. I was always treated very well by other girls, but there were many stories among other guys of girlfriends betraying them, broken and dysfunctional marriages, and backstabbing among other females. It wasn’t a conscious revelation at the time: just an uneasiness and skepticism about the “fairer sex”.

Fast-forward half a year; my repressed sex drive found expression in acting, bringing much energy and creativity to this pursuit. This was when I met a woman that, for the purposes of letting the past lie, I shall call “Anne”. Broken up on ambiguous grounds with her ex-boyfriend (your classic bad-boy; she claimed he cheated on her, but I suspected that was one part of a larger story), there was instant chemistry, combined with an unstable push-pull interaction on both of our parts; Anne would alternate between warmth and coldness, and for a couple of months I alternated between accepting it and freezing her out in turn. My first revelation came when I decided I was more important than her, and froze her out completely: suddenly, the tables were turned, with her trying to be warm with me. I allowed her to speak to me, but no further, choosing not to act on my attraction, and instead let go this person who clearly wasn’t worthy.

At least, that’s the narrative I played. I won’t lie by saying that being MGTOW came with a single shattering revelation, because it didn’t. It was the result of many small understandings, many struggles over time, combined with a will to understand the world for what it is. The truth is that I was still attracted to her, although I intuitively understood that we were incompatible. I would see her again a couple of months later, speaking proudly of her new boyfriend, and yet, when she saw me, all talk of him wore away. We talked, and she looked at me with the look of a girl smitten – but I only felt contempt for this girl who I knew would betray him in the blink of an eye. Once again, I shut her out.

In this time, I came to know other people, observing and occasionally speaking, looking for a girl that I could trust. But this was to no avail; every girl that intrigued me was either inaccessible or carrying some sort of neurosis. It’s the tale of two girls, Anne and “Sally”, a woman I am almost certain was Borderline. You know those girls who never been rejected in their life? That was her. Her craziness was hidden beneath a veneer of sociability, but she had these Fatal Attraction eyes that spoke of something far worse. She had this beta black guy who was totally trying to get in her pants, and believe me I wished he succeeded. But the worst thing wasn’t her attraction to me – it’s that, in my thirst for female appreciation, I played along with that same push-pull interaction, fueling her insanity and my own downfall.

Fortunately, it ended relatively well. I played pussy guy to her, killing her attraction to me. But this was when Anne would come back into my life again. Her boyfriend was now her fiance, and the old play came up again, her trying to flirt with me behind his back, and me switching between avoiding and drawing her. In my mind, ideals of independence, dignity, and honor were clashing with codependency, infatuation, and cultural ideals. I had to draw the line. I had to be the man. I made it clear he could have her, and she wasn’t getting anything from me. I left a man, but with my old ideals irrevocably broken. It was liberating, and yet intensely frightening. To me, this was the pivotal moment that I decided that honor, independence, and strength were more important than women. Not that there wasn’t strife and confusion and depression, for there was – breaking away from 20 years of feminized values doesn’t come overnight! – but this was when I decided to dedicate my life to growing physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

Three years of seclusion – and I was much happier than when I was ever trying to impress women. I knew that, even if I never saw a woman again, that I could still be proud of myself in so many ways, that love begins first in yourself, not any woman! No culture, no person or commercial or product, no clique or government or society can tell oneself how to be happy, for this is something that can only shine from inside! Learning to love yourself without woman is the best thing a man can do; you don’t have to go all Yoda, but you do have to set a line and say: this is MY one life, and I gonna live it to the fullest!

I still have a ways to go. But I am truly glad to call myself MGTOW, and glad to dare to make a life without woman. We stand on the precipice of a new era, and it’s our decision to go free that will make a new masculinity. This path won’t be without struggle and pain, and that’s OK, for pain tells you that you have lived and that your cause is worthy. All that matters is choosing to grow each day, for your own sake, not for anybody else.

I am glad to meet all of you.

you                                            are                                                not                                 alone.