The Confession of EK: How I was forced to take the pill

So I was going to write about some dumb slut that is trying to get back into my life, but this is my #100th post, and it is time to share my story about how I had my heart broke, and fell into the man-o-sphere and was forced to ‘take the pill’, this is going to be long and personal.  This is truly heartfelt, so only read if you care and have the time.  I actually thought about writing this when I hit 10,000 views, but I since passed that (I am sitting at 40k!  Thanks everyone!), so a long time coming.  Here it is…  Also, in a lot of ways this is painful for me to write.  I was SEVERELY FUCKED UP by this girl.  I do not use that lightly, I consider myself a very hardy stoic, and this girl fucked my mental life up so bad, it is insane I got through it looking back at things.

Why this is so hard, is I can tell I literally BLOCKED things out of my memory because it is too painful to except.  From a psychology point of view it is interesting to me knowing I have artificially editted my mind, I hardly remember what she looks like, I hardly remember the good times, all there is, is a void in my mind.

I was a virgin until I was 25 years old, and this was by choice, I always thought I would ‘save myself for the one’ and not in a religious way either.  I believed it would show my iron discipline and love for this women I did not even know yet.  I had always been super fascinated with martial arts, and ‘purity’, and being the true best I could be.  I would routinely mediate under water falls to cleanse my soul.  I had not even kissed a girl beyond a few elementary school ‘girl friends’.  What was interesting was I had never masturbated either throughout my life, so there was not this ‘fire’ so to say that endlessly plunged me towards sexual release. 

So I cranked through college constantly being hit on by girls, looking back with my post-pill eyes it is insane how many ‘come ons’ I had, I recall at least 5 different girls who brought me alone into their room, lights low, right next to each other…I had one girl straight up ask if I wanted to have sex with her that night, I said no and went back to reading.

This is where I met the girl central to the story, her name was Caroline, and per the typical student here at my school, she was very wealthy.  (I was at a private school, but only because I got insane scholarships).  She was a slut to say it nicely, but one of those ‘with standards’ meaning she had to be at least dating to be fucking, even if the bar for dating was set low.  Anyway, I was 2 years older than her and her friends, but me and my room mate ALWAYS had this soft harem throughout college.  He, unlike me, took advantage of the free slays offered to us, I merely enjoyed the constant girl attention, it was like this perverse challenge to make me focus harder.

She was pretty attractive, given I did not have any sexual experience, I had hyper-high standards because I so easily cut girls down because of a lack of desperation.  Anyway we were friends, and looking back on it, I had a pretty decent natural game going simply because I DID NOT CARE, which any post-pill guy knows is pretty key.  So I graduated, and moved on in my life.

Fast forward…wow I guess 3-4 years, I had this totally shitty job at a mine, literally grinding ore, I had to wear a mask and ear protection for 12 hours a night each night.  I was kind of in a desperate time in my life.  About once I year I wipe out all the phone numbers of people I no longer care for, or have heard from.  For some reason in my phone I had an old text or something from a string of numbers, and new it was her.  (At this point I have zero romantic interest)  I asked if it was, and indeed it was her, and we started texting to catch up a bit.

(So as an aside, she had just come out of a relationship and was now single, single cute girls do not stay that way very long, so it was completely coincidental)  What was interesting was she had lived near me for a long time after college, even worked at a store I shopped out, but never ran into her, and now she moved back home to the east coast.  We kind of hit it off, she asked if I was seeing anyone (in hindsight it was clear, at the time I thought just friendly).  I call her about once a week and we talk and laugh, in my mind strictly still platonic.  Remember I was White Knight to the max, and this girl was a slut, why would I bother?

Ugh, god, it is weird writing this, mainly because I do not remember a lot of it, I remember the key parts, but I essentially eradicated what happened out of my mind.  So anyway that was in january/feb.  We start to write emails to each other, just being friendly.  I write short stories, and she read EVERY SINGLE ONE, and talked about how great they were.  In like may or so she was talking about how she was going to law school and wanted to come visit her friend and I for a few days.  I offered my house to stay at.  (I had girls stay over before, and it was strictly non-sexual).  She planned on mainly staying with friend.

As time progressed, ideas were hashed out, including one she really wanted to do, which was go to a nude hot springs pool.  Again, she is the liberated feminist slut, and I am the hardened White Knight, so it was unusual, but I figured it would be fun to try something different.

Come late july I believe of that year, she comes out, and me, her and the friend go on a short road trip. First stop is the nude hot springs.  She gladly flaunts all, I did it faking confidence.  One morning we got up early to go to a pool.  We are talking, and I straight up ask her ‘why did you leave and never say bye’ (because of the years of silence) I can not remember her answer in the forced-fog, but she revealed some sort of pain in her heart and was glad she could talk to me about it.  (See the beginnings of trouble here?  My captain-save-a-ho was being triggered strongly)

We go to another camping place the next day, and they cook dinner.  I am convinced it was food poisoning, but it was among the sickest I have EVER been in my life, I am crawling across the ground in a delirium thinking I am dead, and I was huddled against an outhouse toilet for hours in the middle of the night.

Somehow the morning comes and I am (this is like a process of self discovery, I remember the food poison was important to the story, but had forgotten WHY, until this just came to me) …anyway so I am crying and hyperventilating that I am still alive.  She comes over, hugs and rubs me, telling me it will be ok.  (I have had very little physical contact with girls in my life)  I feel this deep sense of caring.  I do not want to disparage her too much at this point of the story, as she was a slut, certainly, but she cared.  She honestly did at the time.  Anyway, so we go to a new place, hiking on a river, and I am holding her hand as we walk across rocks.  On the drive to another place, we are talking about how these future plans we have…and wow our plans sure are similar to each other!  I did something very brave, I grabbed her hand.  We held hands while I was driving.  Here was this girl who had made mistakes in her past, but she was just misguided, she had such a good heart, and we would be together! 

We came back to my house, and the third wheel friend gratefully leaves.  It is night, and I give her my bedroom and go to leave, she asks if I want to stay.  I said sure, and slept on the EDGE of my bed.  But the lights go out, and suddenly her arms are around me and she kisses my neck.  I was confused as fuck, remember I had never done this.  To spare the details she was kind in showing me the way sexual encounters go down, but in a lot of ways I was basically raped.  I had lost my long-held virginity to a girl I thought I cared about.  I loved her at the time, it felt insane the passion I had, I am not sure I can feel it again because I know how delusional it was.

So began this week of insane highs, I can not remember much, likely because it was ‘good’ and I had to eliminate it from memory.  Things like us cooking together, going swimming, sex…one thing I remember was we only seriously laughed once, I remember it because at the time I noted it ‘hmm, this is the first time we laughed’.  One thing that was critical, was that every night she basically forced her way on me, and once I decided I was ‘going to be the man’ and take the lead, she she me down hard, and went to sleep.  The next morning, I was pissed, and I was coherent, ‘this stupid bitch is ruining my life, she is gone’, but sex has a way of dulling convictions…

Our time was growing short before she was leaving for law school.  But we had plans, I would try to come out to see her, we could make this work.  I dropped her off in a parking lot for the friend to pick her up, she gave one a final parting bj in the back of my truck haha, but when we kissed bye and said we wanted to see each other again, we meant it…I did anyway. 

I was in this catatonic state for that day, and for a while, here was this amazing, smart, cute girl that ‘I’ had somehow managed to end up with, and with nearly two weeks of pure debauchery and fun behind it, its seemed consummate by heaven itself.

So imagine the highest high, because that it what it felt like.  No work, no cares, just fun and adventure with a lot of sex with this great ‘redeemed’ girl.  Because this is where it turned to a nightmare.

I was supposed to go visit her before school starts.  (Oh, again, pardon the memories coming back, but when she visited I bought her a dog stuffed animal, she later sent a picture of it on her bed, saying she wished it was me).  But then the excuses slowly start to come.  Oh, she is nervous about school, I cant come just yet.  Let her get adjusted to school.  Oh, but she cares about me so much, and cant wait to see me!

(Ok, as a reader, you probably see the writing on the wall, but for me in it, here was this girl I truly loved, and thought she loved me, what was a few weeks before I saw my love?)

To give an example of how much this effected me, I filled up an entire journal just musing on the ‘update’ of each day with this girl, what did this text mean, that word etc.

Each day that slowly passed I would wait for the latest update on when I could see her.  Oh, maybe this weekend, its a long weekend!  Oh, no her grandma is sick.

Oh hey EK, I miss you so much, here is a sext and a pic to remind you of the time we had, and I cant wait until you are inside me again!

I was so proud of my little girl, going off all alone to a big law school, and soon I would be right there with her.  (Looking back, I am surprised at the subservient role I voluntarily cast myself under in her life)

The weeks slowly crawled by, would I EVER see her?  Each day…each fucking MINUTE was an eternity, would I get a text from her?  Could we finally talk?  Oh, a text!? ‘Hi! miss you~!’ wow, fuck, she DOES care!  Quick, respond.  Uh, wtf, I sent a text 4 hours ago, and she hasnt said shit?  ‘Sorry, been busy!  But cant wait to see you! ;0 ‘

I had some date set up, I was going to buy those damn plane tickets, I gave a shit if they were 500$ I wanted to see my love.  It was all good, but then ‘sorry you cant come anymore, I have to go my grandma is dying’.  Damn, good thing I hadnt purchased them yet, but its okay, SHE was in pain.  Weeks passed, teases and promises continue to rain.  She tells me she had border line personality disorder, and she really cares about me, but might not be stable for me.  Oh, how thoughtful of her, I WILL SAVE HER!!!

Something happened where she told me she hadnt done anything that weekend except study, but my friend saw on facebook (I dont have that shit) she had went OUT with some fag guy, and GAVE HIM HER NUMBER!  Oh, some sort of misunderstanding.  I asked in some backdoor way, and oh it was just ‘a friend’ but she cared about me and couldnt wait to see me.  Hey, maybe this coming weekend in 10 days I could come out?

Sure, it was finally going to happen.  Damn, look at this hot pic she sent me!  ‘Oh, sorry EK emergency, my grandma DIED’  Oh god, no, well, I understand why we cant hang.  I told her the day of her flight something about that I could feel her soul across the country, and good luck at the funeral.  I get a text from her at like 3 am ‘funeral?  My grandma didnt die!’ me-‘uh what…?’ her-‘you misunderstood, and go back to sleep silly~’

I woke up pissed, but the problem was this girl was SO DAMN GOOD at keeping me addicted to her.  I do not have a problem with willpower, or never had until her.  I would wake up, and be like ‘this stupid slut is out of her’.  But carefully timed texts, words, calls, pics, and my will would break.  ‘EK where are you?  I miss you…~’ ‘maybe during thanksgiving I can visit you and we can cook and play in your room!~’

I read as much as I could about borderline personality, after all I had to save her.  But in an irony I almost got it myself, because there were times of rage at this girl.  On the bpd forums it slowly opened my eyes the constant CYCLE of pain these people had.  It was so obvious from the outside, no that person was not going to change, why were these fools still with them.  Wait…was this not like me?  Maybe…maybe.

I was addicted to her.  She had destroyed my sense of self in a very subtle way, and that I needed validation from her.  It is painful to write, but for months, my day was make or broke by if I got a text from her.  A simple ‘hey you’ would spike my dopamine, and rekindle the addiction. At times I was made at her, each day that worn on, and each occasional text grinded me down relentlessly. 

I had one friend that saved my shit during this period, I was not even that good of friends with him prior, but he listened to my endlessly ranting and questions ‘what does she mean by “i hope to see you soon, be ready” ?’ It was cathartic to talk the topic to death, eventually I grew tired of myself.

I have always been coldly logically, but this insane emotion spike and addiction was unprecedented in my life.  But my logic was slowly bifurcating my mind. Part of it waited each and every day, read up on bpd, rehashed every fucking convo we had, but the logically side slowly started seeing writing on the wall.  I do not know the exact search, but I searched something about ‘girl problems’ and came across a mind blowing site: solvemygirlproblems, it was some guy, probably mid 20’s who basically was spitting the truth.

He said girls are flaky, trite, disloyal, and that as a MAN you had to define your own value, and not let anyone else, especially girls decide your happiness.  He was very PUA, but had a hard line MGTOW feeling to him.  His shit was empowering, he didnt pull punches, he told stories of girls fucking guys lives up.  It was an elixir to me, here was this girl I was obsessed over because of two weeks of solid sex and fun, and her toying with me about finally getting together, and this guy said FUCK IT!  Fuck that bitch, you only live once, and if you are in the fucking pits, dig yourself out, because you are a fucking man, and be proud of it.

I had never seen this before, PUA etc.  Be direct with girls?  Game them back?  Be a challenge?  Avoid oneitis?  How could this work? 

EK fell off the deep-end for a while during this.  I was still getting hooked by the bpd girl, but I was having hookups with girls.  Among the funniest was some married women giving my hand a bj in a hottub, and wanting to do more (I didnt).

I actually told this girl about the hottub encounter, and a different hookup, I still thought we might be together.  We had this heartfelt conversation about how hurt she had been in her past, and was so happy we could be ‘special friends’.  Yes, that bitch called me her special friend.

Come Christmas, it was literally her final chance, how the hell could a full month off we not get together?  She dropped some shit about her grandma or something, and I did one of the hardest things I ever did: I forced myself to never write her again, just like BPD escapees advised me to do to get away.  It went like 3 weeks, and the irony on my birthday in December, I was literally walking into a girls room when I got a call from her, I merely ignored it.  A day or two later, I left a message (I called on a different phone, I was scared of her partly, if she answered I would have hung up) I left a message about that ‘I love you’ and went on to lay a few things out.  ‘This is goodbye caroline’ and hung up. I was in a mild panic, and powered down my phone, and went into hiding for like 10 days lest I relapse into this bitch.

I thought for sure when I turned my phone on I would have 100s of texts ‘dont leave!’…but not a one.  I got an email from her…blaming me for what happened.  And that was it.

For the next month (how convenient the whole tale took 1 year to conclude) I was kind of in this weird shock.  Was it really over?  Would I hear from her again?  I think I might someday, but I think this is 2 years now, and nothing.  I don’t check her face book, I dont do anything, I think there is always some sort of chance I could relapse if she did contact me.  I remember some other blogger (other than smgp) mentioned BPD, and that is partially what got me finally getting ready to dump her.  I cannot explain how utterly scary, addicted, and delusional I was to this girl.  The human mind is weak, and I was confident in my mind’s complete strength.  I lost over 6 months of my life obsessing over this girl (who was masterful at keeping me hooked), and ‘wasted’ my virginity on some slut.

I slowly came to see the no-nonsense of the man-o-sphere was the only light in the darkness.  They did not pretend to be my friend, they did not pretend to be anything, they shouted the truth, crudely and often vulgar…but just try to deny what they were saying.  Prove to them when you treat girls like shit they dont want you more.  Prove that by caring less the girl cares more.  Prove that in the end ‘fuck girls’ figuratively and metaphorically because it is all about you.

I hardly even think about her anymore, my subconscious seems to bear no scars because I have never dreamed of her, and my mind has a big blank over it, but the harsh lessons I learned I would unfortunately re-learn in another life if I had the option.  Most people never wake up.  I had 6 months of pain to wake up.  Now I try to wake others up, without the pain, addiction, and obsession I was forced to endure.

I advise a lot of my friends on girl issues, and they seem to listen, but I truly wonder if simply learning from another, and ‘hearing about the pain’ is the same as going through it?  You can always tell the bloggers that actually went through shit, they have this raw passion, these raw feelings, this ‘DONT YOU FUCKING GET IT!?  GIRLS WILL EVISCERATE YOU!  YOU HAVE NO CLUE HOW MUCH IS AT STAKE!’ feeling to them.  Pua guys have good advice, but they are just horny, they didnt lose their house, their marriage, or in my case, their heart, they dont really ‘get it’.  They do not understand how bad the game really is, how bad the deck is stacked against them, how if they fuck up in a world with a multitude of potential fuckups, their life is done.

I lost my heart, I do not know if I can ever ‘love’ a girl again, because I will be way too critical of ‘oh, just getting addicted to this new girl’ and I will doubt her sincerity because I know the vast multitude of girls play on guys emotions for their own ends.  I loved this girl, I gave her my fucking heart, and what did I get in return?  I got gamed, gamed in a far more insidious way than any pua could dream of.  The pit I crawled out of was fraught with insanity, to emerge as unscarred as I did I hold as a badge of honor.  The pill was so fucking bitter, but once it was in my mouth I couldn’t spit it out…and eventually I swallowed it.

24 thoughts on “The Confession of EK: How I was forced to take the pill

  1. This is a terrible thing to have happened to anyone, EK. You have my sympathies. It really does sound like she had some sort of personality disorder, perhaps narcissism and habitual lying. For her to keep stringing you along like that…it was just cruel. It sucks that you were unable to share your virginity with someone who truly cared about you. Even if you don’t stay together, it’s a fond memory of intimacy…not what this girl turned it into.

    The problem was, you had very different values in regards to sex. She viewed it as a fun activity, whereas you viewed it as a kind of sacred gift. Neither of these views are wrong, but if she knew how you felt she should have left you alone in that department. Lovers cannot make it work if they have such opposed feelings about sex. You didn’t know any better…but she did. And while I still don’t think you should automatically assume that 99.999% of women are like her, I truly understand how difficult and painful it is to overcome past experiences.

    • Hey Sophia, it actually worked out in the end, I went through a completely nightmarish time, but now I ‘get it’ and I wont have my life fucked by losing a marriage, a house etc.

    • I saw a LOT of red pill guys talk about past girls who were bpd, I think its predictable to have guys utterly emotionally raped, and ask ‘wtf happened?’ and have to come to hard answers.

  2. Thank you for sharing that story. So many women manipulate men and use them as a means to some end without giving a second thought as to how it might affect the person they’re using.

  3. Twenty-five, huh? That’s really interesting. I wonder if – had I shunned marriage – I would’ve held out until then.

    My problem was the OTHER end of the spectrum. I waited for the right “church girl” (who was just a bag of shit wrapped in gold foil) and got married – still a virgin – at 23.

    It’s amazing how every MGHOW I know has some story of awfulness (like yours) or betrayal (like mine). You’d think men in general would be clamoring for the Red Pill, but sight takes practice… especially when you’ve never before had to use your eyes.

    • The Truth is blinding.

      Yes, it is very interesting that most of the ardent bloggers went through pain, so the question is, does everyone have to go through it, or can merely telling a friend for example be enough to ‘wake him up’? Unfortunately, I think they have to live it, our warnings may lower their bar, but they still have to have pain.

      • Entirely true.

        I work right now with a young man – handsome, even though tattooed and having those awful earlobe disc things in. He’s fully convinced that NAWALT, including his not-even-close-to-attractive-enough-to-be-with-him girlfriend. Scratch that… FIANCEE now.

        I asked him (pleaded, in fact) to read Rational Male or some of my older posts, but he has yet to do so. Probably, he won’t.

        I told him, though: “I’ve warned you, brother. Your blood is not on my hands.” I only wish I’d had a MGHOW to warn ME before I got married…

        Universe only knows if I would have listened, though. >_<

        • Yeah, Idk, I might have learned faster at least if before I feel into the fire if someone was like ‘yo, look girls are trifling little bitches who will rape your heart without a second thought…keep that in mind young knight’ that might have been gold.

  4. Shit man, this was a brutal read.

    Reminds me of a girlfriend of a close friend who led me on a merry trail of emotional addiction, I spoke to her recently after having cut her out of my life for over a year and she said she was really sad that I’d disappeared, saying she’d cried over me. I did it both for my own mental health and because we did almost hook up a few times, bros before hoes always.

    It seems a lot of these girls don’t even realise what they’re doing beyond that for them the power and feelings they get from it feels good. It’s either self-denial or solipsism but she had no idea how much she’d been manipulating me. It was nowhere near the ride you were put through, but I know that some nights I was almost brought to tears. I think a large part of the old me died after that, I used to write a lot of songs on guitar and perform but haven’t been able to play anything but covers since. I prefer this new version of me, but occasionally wonder what the guy who didn’t go through that would be like.

    I hope the same for you as I do for myself: to be wiser, stronger but not left full of hate. I know my guard never fully drops any more.

    • Hey, thanks for reading and stopping by man.

      Yeah a little part of me did die after all that. I am not sure I can believe in ‘love’ anymore, as blind and pure as it was at the time.

      A lot of me died, the biggest was that you could get a girl by ‘being yourself’ I think I still can, but I know what to show and what to conceal, but the darkest thing is that I no longer believe girl’s love for a guy is nearly as pure as what a guy’s love for a girl can be.

  5. First love tends to be intense, irrational and bad for us. It’s obvious to the outsider that the person is bad for us, and that we aren’t thinking, but we don’t know that yet. Addiction is exactly what it is. Once you can’t get that person anymore, there might be a period of withdrawal symptoms.

    I wonder if having our first love later in life is more dangerous for us. If you never felt it (even in smaller doses), you don’t know how to handle it. Until that first love, you can continue to fancy yourself a person of control and self-discipline, without having much to control.

    To me, it happened at 20. It was bad, but not this bad.

    • It was definitely a bit of first love, but this girl was mega bpd, and her addiction was very mentally trying, it was one of the hardest things I ever went through, as pathetic as that sounds.

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  8. I am not sorry for it, EK. In fact, your lack of caring will be an advantage in the future. Experience is unfortunately the only way to learn.

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  11. I was married 13 years, divorced..lost half of everything…..THEN found MY beautiful borderline. For 5 years.

    I didn’t know what BPD was, I naively thought the mentally ill came with a set of documents outlining their issues and the corresponding courses of action to be taken if you should find yourself at the brunt of an ‘episode’. They handed you this info pack when you first started dating….I was wrong. So wrong.

    All I’ll say for now is if you know you are with a toxic BPD, you CANNOT SAVE HER… GET OUT. You have a responsibility to yourself and staying is one of the most, if not, THE most, damaging thing you can do to yourself. There is no point at which you will find what you envisaged at the beginning, it’s gone, it was never there and could never realistically be there. It was sold to you under very false pretences…and even she didn’t know. Get out, and protect yourself.

    Get out.

    Don’t ask why, don’t procrastinate, just go.

    Story to follow…now just go.

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