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      "author": "steemitboard",
      "body": "Congratulations @smecsy! You received a personal award!\n\n<table><tr><td>https://steemitimages.com/70x70/http://steemitboard.com/@smecsy/birthday1.png</td><td>Happy Birthday! - You are on the Steem blockchain for 1 year!</td></tr></table>\n\n<sub>_You can view [your badges on your Steem Board](https://steemitboard.com/@smecsy) and compare to others on the [Steem Ranking](http://steemitboard.com/ranking/index.php?name=smecsy)_</sub>\n\n\n**Do not miss the last post from @steemitboard:**\n<table><tr><td><a href=\"https://steemit.com/steemitboard/@steemitboard/steemitboard-witness-update-2019-05\"><img src=\"https://steemitimages.com/64x128/http://i.cubeupload.com/7CiQEO.png\"></a></td><td><a href=\"https://steemit.com/steemitboard/@steemitboard/steemitboard-witness-update-2019-05\">SteemitBoard - Witness Update</a></td></tr></table>\n\n###### [Vote for @Steemitboard as a witness](https://v2.steemconnect.com/sign/account-witness-vote?witness=steemitboard&approve=1) to get one more award and increased upvotes!",
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      "body": "![mlady.jpeg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmXAxKJ2xAymcd1QUs6RfWzYNpz3tWZWTgPTtTU7WovCcn/mlady.jpeg)\n<p>Incels (involuntary celibates) are roughly defined as men who believe that genetics, society, and women have somehow collectively conspired against them, resulting in their complete lack of any romantic or sexual experience with the opposite sex. Like random blips on a radar, it’s all too easy to view these men as outliers and the <a href=\"https://www.vox.com/world/2018/4/25/17277496/incel-toronto-attack-alek-minassian\">horrible acts they have done</a> as disconnected, freak incidents. However, mentally stapling “VILLAIN” signs on their foreheads before brushing them off as societal rejects will only allow this defeatist incel philosophy to fester in the minds of more young boys. The time for pointless finger-pointing must end if we hope to examine where we went wrong in terms of raising resilient and confident men.</p>\n<p>Men have always been historically recognised as the sex that is supposed to overcome whatever odds are thrown their way. In the times of knights and kings, the inconsequential brutality of the period was matched in magnitude with a sacred code of honour and duty: chivalry. This demanded uncompromising self-sacrifice as knights were called to practice unquestioning loyalty to both their country and the Church, cruelty against infidels, and generosity for their less-privileged brethren. In exchange, knights were rewarded with the coveted recognition of their king, the safety of their family, admiration from female royalty and common folk alike, and immortality through songs and legends.</p>\n<p>As time passed and society progressed towards the times of classy top hats and wooden canes, the loose tenets of chivalry gradually morphed into an unsaid but generally understood code of gentlemanly behaviour. However, as mastery over broadswords and broad-tipped arrows made room for acute awareness as to when to open doors and make offers to pay for the cheque, the theme of male self-sacrifice arguably remains the same. In fact, this trend hauntingly becomes more prominent once we examine the professions men are socially conditioned to take.</p>\n<p>While the necessity for knights became obsolete over time, the degree to which men put their lives at stake hasn’t. Soldiers, miners, loggers, and oil rig workers — all male-dominated professions — are still largely considered as highly dangerous lines of work. This trend has led to statistics consistently showing that men still comprise over 90% of workplace fatalities. In light of this, isn’t it strange that an issue about literal life and death barely gets as much traction in the media as the supposed legitimate sexual allegations made against men?&nbsp;</p>\n<blockquote>According to the <a href=\"https://www.bls.gov/iif/\"><strong>Bureau of Labor Statistics</strong></a><strong>,</strong> 4,836 workplace deaths were reported in 2015. Among those deaths, 4,492 were men and 344 were women. In other words, men comprised over 93% of workplace deaths that year.&nbsp;</blockquote>\n<p>Society has spent decades making up for the shortcomings previous generations had when it came to the general perception and treatment of women as mere sexual objects. In comparison, barely any amount of recognition is made to the fact that men are still being raised to become glorified success and sacrificial objects. And, instead of being rewarded with songs and legends about their feats of sacrifice, men must now also bear brunt of “dumb and lazy father” stereotypes perpetuated by the media.</p>\n<p>And if that wasn’t enough, men must now also tolerate listening through rants about female insecurities without any expectation of reward, lest they be labelled as pigs and mere sexual animals (which, in line to nature’s design, men will always be). No matter which way you cut it, men will always be valued for their capacity to lead and provide security while women will always be valued for their physical beauty and capability to birth and raise healthy children.</p>\n<p>Women are the gatekeepers towards male sexual gratification in the same way that men are the gatekeepers towards female emotional security. This is why men must learn how to protect their time and attention in the same way that women protect their bodies and sexuality. Thinking otherwise and resorting to treating yourself as an emotional tampon will only increase your disposability, lower your sexual market value, and leave you with a regretful case of blue balls.</p>\n<p>A large shift has taken place in how we raise young men and prepare them for the challenges that they will inevitably face. Sadly, we as a society has shifted so far off course that simply pointing out the problem has become taboo. However, a conversation must be started if we hope to empower young men and give them the tools they need to lead confident and purposeful lives.</p>\n<p><strong>We have feminised young boys while expecting them to take on life’s struggles as how men are supposed to do: by the chin.</strong></p>\n<p>The decades we have spent prioritising women’s issues have deluded us into thinking that male issues are either non-existent or could be resolved in a similar feminine fashion. We teach men that expressing feminine values in times of need will naturally lead to the societal reward that most women benefit from: sympathy. However, we forget that men — just as how nature designed us to become — will always have to bear the brunt of life’s blows head on, on our own.</p>\n<p>A boy’s journey towards manhood will always be that of a road filled with painful rejection, quiet suffering, and consistent self-reliance. It is a cross that a young man must learn to bear alone. Telling him otherwise will only mislead him and build false expectations that will inevitably be broken by the harshness of reality.</p>\n<p>While incels can be seen as mere outliers that have gone on the deep end, they are also young men who have simply given up on improving themselves. No young man grows and aspires to be an incel by choice. And as much as how society is too lazy and hateful to admit it, all incels started off the same way as any other successful male celebrity out there: as young men brimming with potential. While it could be a freak combination of circumstances that bring these young men towards their breaking point, solely focusing on these random variables does nothing in solving the problem. On the other hand, focusing on a potential cause that’s far more tangible, such as the deprivation of masculine guidance for boys, could be the first step that we need to take in order to transform incels into confident, successful men.</p>\n<p><em>Follow me on Medium:</em> <a href=\"https://medium.com/@LanceNavarro\"><em>https://medium.com/@LanceNavarro</em></a>&nbsp;</p>\n</html>",
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      "author": "smecsy",
      "body": "![annie-spratt-215744-unsplash.jpg](https://steemitimages.com/DQmPy1nsBt4xWu4VEWPsJhVdt6u4wtWTBSGFSYrXgbJ99dW/annie-spratt-215744-unsplash.jpg)\n\n_“Hi, ‘anak.’ How are you doing?”_\n\n“I’m good.”\n\n_“Do you still have money?”_\n\n“Yes. By the way, I just got kicked out of my flat. I’m homeless.”\n\n_“What? I’m calling.”_\n\n“I’m kidding. I’m all good.”\n\n_“Okay.”_\n\nThis is a typical conversation I have with my mom whenever she checks on me. She messages me once every week (or two weeks if things get too busy). It typically starts with me replying three hours to five hours late and ends within five minutes.\n\nShe tends to reply immediately as long as I don’t message her past her bedtime.\n\nI’ve never really hung out with my mom back when I was in Manila. But we did spend time together regularly. It’s usually when she wants to be driven outside so she can do one of three things:\n\n1. Buy three weeks worth of groceries (which typically gets devoured within a week)\n2. Buy flowers (so she can promptly call the gardener to plant them as soon as possible)\n3. Go to work (back then, a drive from Quezon City to Ortigas during the morning rush would take around two hours)\n\nI always refused when she wanted to get groceries or buy flowers. I was too lazy to carry groceries or heavy potted plants to the car. However, when it came to driving her to work, I agreed (grudgingly). I’ve always hated spending an extra fifteen minutes looping around Ortigas just so I can drop her off at her building.\n\nBut, I did it anyway so I could get free gas for the car.\n\nIn fact, every time we passed by the street of her office building, my mom would ask how I was doing with gas. And, each time, I would look at the fuel meter to see if the arrow pointed below half. If it did, it was an instant gas top-up of five hundred Philippine pesos. If it wasn’t, I’d still stop by the station to make sure the tyres had enough air in them.\n\nI was perpetually terrified of getting a flat tyre every time I drove out. Back then, an exaggerated highlight reel of what could happen would occasionally play in my head. It would always involve my car careening all over the highway, zooming and bouncing around five speeding vehicles like a Pinball machine before crashing into a random tree.\n\nLooking back, I now find this very strange. My dad taught me how to swap out a busted tyre with a spare one. In fact, it was the first thing he did as soon as he saw the used 1999 Toyota Civic my mom bought for me. The second thing my dad did was express his utter disgust when he found the car had an automatic transmission. It was as if this car spat on the legacy he started with my oldest brother — a legacy built on driving vintage automobiles with manual transmission and no power steering.\n\nI would always stare at the steering wheel whenever my dad pulled out of the curb in front of the house. I would watch as his hands turned the wheel until it made four complete counter-clockwise rotations. He would then engage the stick shift into reverse, pull his vintage yellow Beetle into the road, and repeat the same process with the steering wheel, this time in the opposite direction. If that were me, I’d probably leave the car running in the middle of the road, go back to the house, and take a nap right after.\n\nThinking about the effort it took just to get his car in the middle of the road already makes me sleepy.\n\nAnyway, going back to my mom. She always had this habit of making sure I had everything that I needed. I remember the random phone calls I would make to her office. These calls would always go in one of two ways:\n\n1. “Mom, can you buy me a pen for school?”\n2. “Mom, when are you going home?”\n\nI knew I could always buy myself a pen at school. But, I would much rather have my mom buy me a pen. It never crossed my mind that this would require her to spend another thirty minutes right after work just to line up and buy me a pen.\n\nI just wanted my mom to buy me a pen.\n\nAs for asking her when she was going home, I always knew she arrives at the house at around 7:30 PM — just in time for dinner. But, asking her even if I knew the answer was just an itch I had to scratch.\n\nThese insignificant and somewhat annoying requests and questions may not matter much to most adults. But, the consistency my mom had when it came to giving me what I needed transformed her from “typical mom” to “mom that has E V E R Y T H I N G.”\n\nI think I was already in my twenties when my mom explained to me the things she had to do to keep up with my requests. Aside from her yearly ritual of keeping my Christmas money from my aunt (which was in US Dollars by the way!) for “safekeeping”, my favourite story with her would always be the first time she took me to an ATM.\n\nAs I’m writing this, I can already hear the giggles she would make every time she tells me this story.\n\nI think I was around seven years old. My mom is holding my hand. In front of me are a bunch of adults, lining up for their turn at this strange machine right outside the mall entrance. Every so often, a grown-up would take something from the device and walk away. Then, the line would get shorter, which made it easier for me to see how the machine looked like.\n\nEventually, our turn came. I saw my mom pressing a bunch of big, shiny, metal buttons. In reality, it was just her typing in her PIN. But, from my seven-year-old perspective, this looked like the coolest thing ever.\n\n“Mom. I want to press the buttons.”\n\nShe then picks me up, slightly bends her left knee, and anchors my seven-year-old ass on top of it. This made it significantly easier for me to see the screen and all the shiny buttons I could press. My mom then grabs my wrist and guides me to the buttons I need to press so she can withdraw her usual amount of two thousand Pesos.\n\nEventually, the money pops out, and I am immediately amazed. Being the logical kid that I was, I look at my mom and tell her the brilliant idea I had in my head.\n\n“Mom, you should get more money.”\n\nNot only would this save us time from having to line up again, having more money would allow us to buy more stuff. It made complete sense, and I saw no reason as to why my mom only withdrew a measly amount of two thousand Pesos. Of course, I had no concept of what bank accounts were and how you could only withdraw the amount you actually had in your accounts. Nevertheless, I was profoundly confused and maybe even a bit disappointed with my mom’s poor decision-making skills.\n\nIt would be several years later when I would find out that my mom genuinely wanted to get more money from the ATM. It’s just that two thousand Pesos was all she had at the time. This desire to provide whatever she could to her children was a recurring trend when it came to my mom. And, if I had to guess, the drive that she has to do this consistently even up to this day comes from the fact that it was her generation that brought her side of the family up from poverty to middle-class standards.\n\nNow and then, my mom would tell me stories about how things were when she was growing up. Some of these stories were about Papang, her father. She told me of the times when she would run in panic as soon as he heard Papang’s bellowing voice thundering through the streets as he beckoned my mom to get her ass back in the house before it got dark. I also heard tales of Papang’s lighter side and how he would craft slingshots from scratch for each of my older siblings. But, among my mom’s childhood stories, the most entertaining ones would always be about the jingles she had to sing whenever she sold food along the streets. The deal was, Mamang, her mother, would make “Turon na Saging”, a Filipino delicacy, at home. Then, my mom would go out, sing her jingles, and sell them to bystanders. To this day, my mom can sing these food-jingles on command, with all of the goofy intonations down to a tee.\n\nThe circumstances my mom had to live through forced her to act like a fifteen-year-old at the ripe age of seven. I think this is the reason why her parenting had a firmer, more masculine tone than what people typically expect out of mothers. She eased up over time and was significantly more lenient by the time I came around (my siblings would always make sure to remind me how I got off easy). But, her masculine approach towards raising her children still shows, especially when it comes to giving dating advice.\n\nWhile my father, the calmer, goofier, more introspective of the two, would always expectantly ask how I’m currently doing with the ladies, my mom rarely gives advice that doesn’t fall into her patented five-step guideline:\n\n1. Don’t date stupid women\n2. Check if her family is stable\n3. Make sure YOU have enough money to provide what’s needed\n4. YOU lead the relationship\n5. Don’t have kids until you are ready\n_*Give me her name and show me her picture so I can HUNT her down if needed_\n\nWhile I started off apprehensive and confused, my emotions when it came to dating eventually morphed into frustration, detachment, and finally, resigned acceptance. I used my mom and her personality as my framework for dating, and I’ve come out sorely disappointed with how much women have changed.\n\nAs kids, we are told to do what our parents say without question. As teenagers, we learn to question everything that our parents say. But, now that I’m in my twenties, I’ve come to appreciate my parents.\n\nRespect can be given. Genuine respect, on the other hand, will always have to be earned. I look at my mother not simply as the women that happened to give birth to me, but as the woman that still does whatever she can to help me become a better man to this day.\n\nThank you, mom.\n\nYes, I still have money.\n\nNope, I’m not homeless.\n\n…at least, not yet.\n\n_Follow me on Medium: https://medium.com/@LanceNavarro_",
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      "body": "![annie-spratt-215744-unsplash.jpg](https://steemitimages.com/DQmPy1nsBt4xWu4VEWPsJhVdt6u4wtWTBSGFSYrXgbJ99dW/annie-spratt-215744-unsplash.jpg)\n\n_“Hi, ‘anak.’ How are you doing?”_\n\n“I’m good.”\n\n_“Do you still have money?”_\n\n“Yes. By the way, I just got kicked out of my flat. I’m homeless.”\n\n_“What? I’m calling.”_\n\n“I’m kidding. I’m all good.”\n\n_“Okay.”_\n\nThis is a typical conversation I have with my mom whenever she checks on me. She messages me once every week (or two weeks if things get too busy). It typically starts with me replying three hours to five hours late and ends within five minutes.\n\nShe tends to reply immediately as long as I don’t message her past her bedtime.\n\nI’ve never really hung out with my mom back when I was in Manila. But we did spend time together regularly. It’s usually when she wants to be driven outside so she can do one of three things:\n\n1. Buy three weeks worth of groceries (which typically gets devoured within a week)\n2. Buy flowers (so she can promptly call the gardener to plant them as soon as possible)\n3. Go to work (back then, a drive from Quezon City to Ortigas during the morning rush would take around two hours)\n\nI always refused when she wanted to get groceries or buy flowers. I was too lazy to carry groceries or heavy potted plants to the car. However, when it came to driving her to work, I agreed (grudgingly). I’ve always hated spending an extra fifteen minutes looping around Ortigas just so I can drop her off at her building.\n\nBut, I did it anyway so I could get free gas for the car.\n\nIn fact, every time we passed by the street of her office building, my mom would ask how I was doing with gas. And, each time, I would look at the fuel meter to see if the arrow pointed below half. If it did, it was an instant gas top-up of five hundred Philippine pesos. If it wasn’t, I’d still stop by the station to make sure the tyres had enough air in them.\n\nI was perpetually terrified of getting a flat tyre every time I drove out. Back then, an exaggerated highlight reel of what could happen would occasionally play in my head. It would always involve my car careening all over the highway, zooming and bouncing around five speeding vehicles like a Pinball machine before crashing into a random tree.\n\nLooking back, I now find this very strange. My dad taught me how to swap out a busted tyre with a spare one. In fact, it was the first thing he did as soon as he saw the used 1999 Toyota Civic my mom bought for me. The second thing my dad did was express his utter disgust when he found the car had an automatic transmission. It was as if this car spat on the legacy he started with my oldest brother — a legacy built on driving vintage automobiles with manual transmission and no power steering.\n\nI would always stare at the steering wheel whenever my dad pulled out of the curb in front of the house. I would watch as his hands turned the wheel until it made four complete counter-clockwise rotations. He would then engage the stick shift into reverse, pull his vintage yellow Beetle into the road, and repeat the same process with the steering wheel, this time in the opposite direction. If that were me, I’d probably leave the car running in the middle of the road, go back to the house, and take a nap right after.\n\nThinking about the effort it took just to get his car in the middle of the road already makes me sleepy.\n\nAnyway, going back to my mom. She always had this habit of making sure I had everything that I needed. I remember the random phone calls I would make to her office. These calls would always go in one of two ways:\n\n1. “Mom, can you buy me a pen for school?”\n2. “Mom, when are you going home?”\n\nI knew I could always buy myself a pen at school. But, I would much rather have my mom buy me a pen. It never crossed my mind that this would require her to spend another thirty minutes right after work just to line up and buy me a pen.\n\nI just wanted my mom to buy me a pen.\n\nAs for asking her when she was going home, I always knew she arrives at the house at around 7:30 PM — just in time for dinner. But, asking her even if I knew the answer was just an itch I had to scratch.\n\nThese insignificant and somewhat annoying requests and questions may not matter much to most adults. But, the consistency my mom had when it came to giving me what I needed transformed her from “typical mom” to “mom that has E V E R Y T H I N G.”\n\nI think I was already in my twenties when my mom explained to me the things she had to do to keep up with my requests. Aside from her yearly ritual of keeping my Christmas money from my aunt (which was in US Dollars by the way!) for “safekeeping”, my favourite story with her would always be the first time she took me to an ATM.\n\nAs I’m writing this, I can already hear the giggles she would make every time she tells me this story.\n\nI think I was around seven years old. My mom is holding my hand. In front of me are a bunch of adults, lining up for their turn at this strange machine right outside the mall entrance. Every so often, a grown-up would take something from the device and walk away. Then, the line would get shorter, which made it easier for me to see how the machine looked like.\n\nEventually, our turn came. I saw my mom pressing a bunch of big, shiny, metal buttons. In reality, it was just her typing in her PIN. But, from my seven-year-old perspective, this looked like the coolest thing ever.\n\n“Mom. I want to press the buttons.”\n\nShe then picks me up, slightly bends her left knee, and anchors my seven-year-old ass on top of it. This made it significantly easier for me to see the screen and all the shiny buttons I could press. My mom then grabs my wrist and guides me to the buttons I need to press so she can withdraw her usual amount of two thousand Pesos.\n\nEventually, the money pops out, and I am immediately amazed. Being the logical kid that I was, I look at my mom and tell her the brilliant idea I had in my head.\n\n“Mom, you should get more money.”\n\nNot only would this save us time from having to line up again, having more money would allow us to buy more stuff. It made complete sense, and I saw no reason as to why my mom only withdrew a measly amount of two thousand Pesos. Of course, I had no concept of what bank accounts were and how you could only withdraw the amount you actually had in your accounts. Nevertheless, I was profoundly confused and maybe even a bit disappointed with my mom’s poor decision-making skills.\n\nIt would be several years later when I would find out that my mom genuinely wanted to get more money from the ATM. It’s just that two thousand Pesos was all she had at the time. This desire to provide whatever she could to her children was a recurring trend when it came to my mom. And, if I had to guess, the drive that she has to do this consistently even up to this day comes from the fact that it was her generation that brought her side of the family up from poverty to middle-class standards.\n\nNow and then, my mom would tell me stories about how things were when she was growing up. Some of these stories were about Papang, her father. She told me of the times when she would run in panic as soon as he heard Papang’s bellowing voice thundering through the streets as he beckoned my mom to get her ass back in the house before it got dark. I also heard tales of Papang’s lighter side and how he would craft slingshots from scratch for each of my older siblings. But, among my mom’s childhood stories, the most entertaining ones would always be about the jingles she had to sing whenever she sold food along the streets. The deal was, Mamang, her mother, would make “Turon na Saging”, a Filipino delicacy, at home. Then, my mom would go out, sing her jingles, and sell them to bystanders. To this day, my mom can sing these food-jingles on command, with all of the goofy intonations down to a tee.\n\nThe circumstances my mom had to live through forced her to act like a fifteen-year-old at the ripe age of seven. I think this is the reason why her parenting had a firmer, more masculine tone than what people typically expect out of mothers. She eased up over time and was significantly more lenient by the time I came around (my siblings would always make sure to remind me how I got off easy). But, her masculine approach towards raising her children still shows, especially when it comes to giving dating advice.\n\nWhile my father, the calmer, goofier, more introspective of the two, would always expectantly ask how I’m currently doing with the ladies, my mom rarely gives advice that doesn’t fall into her patented five-step guideline:\n\n1. Don’t date stupid women\n2. Check if her family is stable\n3. Make sure YOU have enough money to provide what’s needed\n4. YOU lead the relationship\n5. Don’t have kids until you are ready\n_*Give me her name and show me her picture so I can HUNT her down if needed_\n\nWhile I started off apprehensive and confused, my emotions when it came to dating eventually morphed into frustration, detachment, and finally, resigned acceptance. I used my mom and her personality as my framework for dating, and I’ve come out sorely disappointed with how much women have changed.\n\nAs kids, we are told to do what our parents say without question. As teenagers, we learn to question everything that our parents say. But, now that I’m in my twenties, I’ve come to appreciate my parents.\n\nRespect can be given. Genuine respect, on the other hand, will always have to be earned. I look at my mother not simply as the women that happened to give birth to me, but as the woman that still does whatever she can to help me become a better man to this day.\n\nThank you, mom.\n\nYes, I still have money.\n\nNope, I’m not homeless.\n\n…at least, not yet.\n\n_Follow me on Medium: https://medium.com/@LanceNavarro_",
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      "body": "@@ -136,16 +136,18 @@\n ash.jpg)\n+%0A%0A\n _%E2%80%9CHi, %E2%80%98a\n",
      "json_metadata": "{\"tags\":[\"life\",\"family\",\"relationships\",\"motherhood\"],\"image\":[\"https://steemitimages.com/DQmPy1nsBt4xWu4VEWPsJhVdt6u4wtWTBSGFSYrXgbJ99dW/annie-spratt-215744-unsplash.jpg\"],\"links\":[\"https://medium.com/@LanceNavarro\"],\"app\":\"steemit/0.1\",\"format\":\"markdown\"}",
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      "author": "smecsy",
      "body": "![annie-spratt-215744-unsplash.jpg](https://steemitimages.com/DQmPy1nsBt4xWu4VEWPsJhVdt6u4wtWTBSGFSYrXgbJ99dW/annie-spratt-215744-unsplash.jpg)_“Hi, ‘anak.’ How are you doing?”_\n\n“I’m good.”\n\n_“Do you still have money?”_\n\n“Yes. By the way, I just got kicked out of my flat. I’m homeless.”\n\n_“What? I’m calling.”_\n\n“I’m kidding. I’m all good.”\n\n_“Okay.”_\n\nThis is a typical conversation I have with my mom whenever she checks on me. She messages me once every week (or two weeks if things get too busy). It typically starts with me replying three hours to five hours late and ends within five minutes.\n\nShe tends to reply immediately as long as I don’t message her past her bedtime.\n\nI’ve never really hung out with my mom back when I was in Manila. But we did spend time together regularly. It’s usually when she wants to be driven outside so she can do one of three things:\n\n1. Buy three weeks worth of groceries (which typically gets devoured within a week)\n2. Buy flowers (so she can promptly call the gardener to plant them as soon as possible)\n3. Go to work (back then, a drive from Quezon City to Ortigas during the morning rush would take around two hours)\n\nI always refused when she wanted to get groceries or buy flowers. I was too lazy to carry groceries or heavy potted plants to the car. However, when it came to driving her to work, I agreed (grudgingly). I’ve always hated spending an extra fifteen minutes looping around Ortigas just so I can drop her off at her building.\n\nBut, I did it anyway so I could get free gas for the car.\n\nIn fact, every time we passed by the street of her office building, my mom would ask how I was doing with gas. And, each time, I would look at the fuel meter to see if the arrow pointed below half. If it did, it was an instant gas top-up of five hundred Philippine pesos. If it wasn’t, I’d still stop by the station to make sure the tyres had enough air in them.\n\nI was perpetually terrified of getting a flat tyre every time I drove out. Back then, an exaggerated highlight reel of what could happen would occasionally play in my head. It would always involve my car careening all over the highway, zooming and bouncing around five speeding vehicles like a Pinball machine before crashing into a random tree.\n\nLooking back, I now find this very strange. My dad taught me how to swap out a busted tyre with a spare one. In fact, it was the first thing he did as soon as he saw the used 1999 Toyota Civic my mom bought for me. The second thing my dad did was express his utter disgust when he found the car had an automatic transmission. It was as if this car spat on the legacy he started with my oldest brother — a legacy built on driving vintage automobiles with manual transmission and no power steering.\n\nI would always stare at the steering wheel whenever my dad pulled out of the curb in front of the house. I would watch as his hands turned the wheel until it made four complete counter-clockwise rotations. He would then engage the stick shift into reverse, pull his vintage yellow Beetle into the road, and repeat the same process with the steering wheel, this time in the opposite direction. If that were me, I’d probably leave the car running in the middle of the road, go back to the house, and take a nap right after.\n\nThinking about the effort it took just to get his car in the middle of the road already makes me sleepy.\n\nAnyway, going back to my mom. She always had this habit of making sure I had everything that I needed. I remember the random phone calls I would make to her office. These calls would always go in one of two ways:\n\n1. “Mom, can you buy me a pen for school?”\n2. “Mom, when are you going home?”\n\nI knew I could always buy myself a pen at school. But, I would much rather have my mom buy me a pen. It never crossed my mind that this would require her to spend another thirty minutes right after work just to line up and buy me a pen.\n\nI just wanted my mom to buy me a pen.\n\nAs for asking her when she was going home, I always knew she arrives at the house at around 7:30 PM — just in time for dinner. But, asking her even if I knew the answer was just an itch I had to scratch.\n\nThese insignificant and somewhat annoying requests and questions may not matter much to most adults. But, the consistency my mom had when it came to giving me what I needed transformed her from “typical mom” to “mom that has E V E R Y T H I N G.”\n\nI think I was already in my twenties when my mom explained to me the things she had to do to keep up with my requests. Aside from her yearly ritual of keeping my Christmas money from my aunt (which was in US Dollars by the way!) for “safekeeping”, my favourite story with her would always be the first time she took me to an ATM.\n\nAs I’m writing this, I can already hear the giggles she would make every time she tells me this story.\n\nI think I was around seven years old. My mom is holding my hand. In front of me are a bunch of adults, lining up for their turn at this strange machine right outside the mall entrance. Every so often, a grown-up would take something from the device and walk away. Then, the line would get shorter, which made it easier for me to see how the machine looked like.\n\nEventually, our turn came. I saw my mom pressing a bunch of big, shiny, metal buttons. In reality, it was just her typing in her PIN. But, from my seven-year-old perspective, this looked like the coolest thing ever.\n\n“Mom. I want to press the buttons.”\n\nShe then picks me up, slightly bends her left knee, and anchors my seven-year-old ass on top of it. This made it significantly easier for me to see the screen and all the shiny buttons I could press. My mom then grabs my wrist and guides me to the buttons I need to press so she can withdraw her usual amount of two thousand Pesos.\n\nEventually, the money pops out, and I am immediately amazed. Being the logical kid that I was, I look at my mom and tell her the brilliant idea I had in my head.\n\n“Mom, you should get more money.”\n\nNot only would this save us time from having to line up again, having more money would allow us to buy more stuff. It made complete sense, and I saw no reason as to why my mom only withdrew a measly amount of two thousand Pesos. Of course, I had no concept of what bank accounts were and how you could only withdraw the amount you actually had in your accounts. Nevertheless, I was profoundly confused and maybe even a bit disappointed with my mom’s poor decision-making skills.\n\nIt would be several years later when I would find out that my mom genuinely wanted to get more money from the ATM. It’s just that two thousand Pesos was all she had at the time. This desire to provide whatever she could to her children was a recurring trend when it came to my mom. And, if I had to guess, the drive that she has to do this consistently even up to this day comes from the fact that it was her generation that brought her side of the family up from poverty to middle-class standards.\n\nNow and then, my mom would tell me stories about how things were when she was growing up. Some of these stories were about Papang, her father. She told me of the times when she would run in panic as soon as he heard Papang’s bellowing voice thundering through the streets as he beckoned my mom to get her ass back in the house before it got dark. I also heard tales of Papang’s lighter side and how he would craft slingshots from scratch for each of my older siblings. But, among my mom’s childhood stories, the most entertaining ones would always be about the jingles she had to sing whenever she sold food along the streets. The deal was, Mamang, her mother, would make “Turon na Saging”, a Filipino delicacy, at home. Then, my mom would go out, sing her jingles, and sell them to bystanders. To this day, my mom can sing these food-jingles on command, with all of the goofy intonations down to a tee.\n\nThe circumstances my mom had to live through forced her to act like a fifteen-year-old at the ripe age of seven. I think this is the reason why her parenting had a firmer, more masculine tone than what people typically expect out of mothers. She eased up over time and was significantly more lenient by the time I came around (my siblings would always make sure to remind me how I got off easy). But, her masculine approach towards raising her children still shows, especially when it comes to giving dating advice.\n\nWhile my father, the calmer, goofier, more introspective of the two, would always expectantly ask how I’m currently doing with the ladies, my mom rarely gives advice that doesn’t fall into her patented five-step guideline:\n\n1. Don’t date stupid women\n2. Check if her family is stable\n3. Make sure YOU have enough money to provide what’s needed\n4. YOU lead the relationship\n5. Don’t have kids until you are ready\n_*Give me her name and show me her picture so I can HUNT her down if needed_\n\nWhile I started off apprehensive and confused, my emotions when it came to dating eventually morphed into frustration, detachment, and finally, resigned acceptance. I used my mom and her personality as my framework for dating, and I’ve come out sorely disappointed with how much women have changed.\n\nAs kids, we are told to do what our parents say without question. As teenagers, we learn to question everything that our parents say. But, now that I’m in my twenties, I’ve come to appreciate my parents.\n\nRespect can be given. Genuine respect, on the other hand, will always have to be earned. I look at my mother not simply as the women that happened to give birth to me, but as the woman that still does whatever she can to help me become a better man to this day.\n\nThank you, mom.\n\nYes, I still have money.\n\nNope, I’m not homeless.\n\n…at least, not yet.\n\n_Follow me on Medium: https://medium.com/@LanceNavarro_",
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      "author": "puravidaville",
      "body": "I’m being 100% genuine. It’s really well written, from a mans perspective of all his gripes about dating in this day and age. There’s no reason for anyone to try and apply feelings of sexism, ‘being attacked’ or anything else to it. It’s clever, it’s witty and if it were written from a ladies perspective about men, it surely would be a hit with all of your girlfriends. Keep up the good work @smecsy",
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      "body": "![217H.jpg](https://steemitimages.com/DQmPus9T2HfYNkGeAxDxZMqt7aVp7VTt3YFP3o7k1XdaetQ/217H.jpg)\n_Photo by Ryan McGuire_\n\nSince I try to spend Christmas with my family every year, I made time and dated a few Filipinas.\n\nAnd boy, was that a breath of fresh air.\n\nSince then, I’ve been thinking about the key characteristics that separate Filipinas from Kiwi women. Here’s what I can tell:\n\n# Humour and Hardship: Our Yin and Yang\n\nThere’s something deep and organic within the Philippine culture that makes connecting with other Filipinas more natural and sincere. Part of it comes from our shared frustration with the daily struggle of living in Manila, and our tendency to use humour as a coping mechanism.\n\nThis naturally introduces a sense of lightheartedness even in the midst of frustrating or otherwise unpleasant conversation. It also allows humour to serve as a safe anchor point when starting a relationship with most Filipinas.\n\n# Beating the System is in Our Blood\n\nManila is a cesspool of pollution and traffic, sprinkled in with a healthy dose of young and bright Filipinos fighting over droplets of opportunities just to make ends meet.\n\nThis has been the status quo for several years now and will remain so for the foreseeable future.\n\nTwo key reasons for this current situation is the extreme surplus of intelligent young Filipinos scattered all over Manila, and the severely low standards the country has for appropriate compensation. It also does not help that the majority of sharp-minded Filipino fresh graduates get hammered, twisted, beat up, and slammed by the factory line of Manila’s toxic work routine.\n\nWhat once were dreams of independence, entrepreneurial success, and personal fulfilment get watered down by the acceptance of the mediocre status quo: below 30k PHP salaries, shacking up with the parents for the foreseeable future (even when already married), and occasional 2–3 day escapades to Japan or Thailand just to escape Manila.\n\nWhenever I talk to Filipinos in their twenties, it feels like I’m talking to veterans that went past their prime. The grind adds what seems like years to their natural gaze. However, instead of reminiscing about the “good old days”, the twenties Filipino takes solace in the humble acceptance of their reality, makes a dumb joke about it, and moves on with their day.\n\nHowever, the desire to “beat the system” and somehow seize what you can potentially achieve remains as a core passion that most Filipino youth share. This is why, even in the sleazy, insincere, and somewhat dubious confines of online dating apps such as Tinder, I manage to connect with Filipinas on a genuine and personal level.\n\n# They’re Old School in All the Right Ways\n\nAlthough there has been an increasing amount of agnosticism and atheism when it comes to Filipino youth, our value systems remain heavily influenced by fundamental Christian teachings. This, coupled with being raised within a Filipino household, give rise to women who still embody traditional family values and structures. In contrast, Western women, especially those who subscribe to the toxic beliefs of third-wave feminism, may view these values and structures as dated, degrading, or downright sexist. As an example, while most Western women would fight tooth and nail to juggle both of their responsibilities as a career woman and a mother, a traditional Filipina views the act of raising her kids full-time as a luxury to aspire to, rather than a degrading chore that her man uses to establish dominance over her.\n\nWhile relationships and compromises are often synonymous with one another, there are fundamental things which must remain clear and concrete right from the beginning. And, among these things, is the decision to allow the man to either lead the relationship or not.\n\nAgreeing to this basic structure allows the whole relationship dynamic to flow more naturally. The man provides, not because this is what society expects of him, but because he wants to take care of his partner. The woman nurtures her man, not because she’s being prevented by her man or the “patriarchy” from achieving her dreams, but because she is confident in her man’s ability to protect and secure her future.\n\nIn contrast, dating within Westernised societies influenced by third-wave feminism has degraded into a stressful exercise of navigating through verbal minefields. Trigger warnings lay buried, primed to explode the moment a man mistakenly disrupts the status quo of political correctness or violates the obscure laws of the language police.\n\nDating is already complicated, time-consuming, and emotionally draining as is. Sadly, some women (and men, to be fair) choose to tack on more rules to compensate for their grievances and general oversensitivity rather than taking a much-needed break from the dating space.\n\nIn the end, it’s all about giving each other a fair shot. Knowing where each person stands right from the get-go makes it easier to avoid stepping on each other’s toes as both man and woman waltz their way further into the relationship.\n\n_Follow me on Medium: https://medium.com/@LanceNavarro_",
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      "body": "Hey, thanks for reading!\n\nI rarely get praise from readers when it comes to this post, so I'm not sure if you're being sarcastic or not. \n\nI have shared this post with trusted female friends. While they do comment on the tone of this post (a few have said they felt they were being attacked), they do see the logic behind the points I make.\n\nI appreciate the welcome and do look forward to writing more for Steemit!\n\nI've included an example of the usual feedback I get below:\n\nhttps://www.reddit.com/r/TheBluePill/comments/866rlk/strong_rp_philosophy_vibes_why_dating_sucks_a/",
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      "body": "Man, this was such a delight to read; you’re hilarious. My husband even asked me a few times what I was laughing at. So I read him the entire #2. Women Date Up.... haha. This whole post was brilliant and I welcome you to the community with a big fat smile. This is re-steemed by me and I look forward to reading more of your wit.",
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      "body": "Everybody knows that men get a bad rep, especially when it comes to dating. You’ve probably heard lines such as:\n\n“Men are pigs!”\n\n“What, he didn’t pay for the first date? What a fucking cheapskate!”\n\n“He went for the kiss, on the FIRST DATE? Jeez, what a creep!”\n\n“He didn’t go for the kiss on the THIRD DATE? Is he gay!?”\n\n“Oh, you’ll know what he really wants after the second date.”\n\n“He just wants to bang you!”\n\n“Men are just WEIRD!”\n\nJust to see what Google had to say about the topic, I typed in “dating women sucks”. On the first page of results, I only got two articles targeted for men. Every other article was for women, written by a woman.\n\n![dating-women-sucks.png](https://steemitimages.com/DQmSvF3k9hyH44dE3CBtm2fCR5LNaUuAkbqPym98jktygtX/dating-women-sucks.png)\n\nIf you’re an average guy, you already know that dating sucks. It sucks because there’s not much advice out there for regular blokes like us.\n\nAnd yeah, I get it. We have shit that we need to work on. But, there’s barely anything written about the bullshit women do. That’s why the average man, like the dopes that we are, just keep on winging it as we get ghosted, led on, and get our asses kicked over and over again.\n\nSo, in the spirit of equality and balancing things out, let’s talk about the nine shitty things I’ve realised when it comes to dating women.\n\n# 1. Women are Victims; Men are Assholes\n\nPicture a classy restaurant with forks, knives, plates, and wine glasses clinking together. Murmurs and muffled laughter echo around the dimly lit restaurant. Among the crowd of diners is a man and a woman sitting together, sipping wine and conversing.\n\nSuddenly, the woman stands up and slaps the shit out of the man.\n\n*SMACK*\n\nShe cries and leaves. Left at the table is the man, still standing up with his jaw on the floor. He mutters to himself, “What the fuck just happened?”\n\nHow do you think the other diners would react? My guess would be laughter aimed towards the guy and sympathy for the woman. And, this is not me being biased. This is me just stating how Westernised societies tend to behave when it comes to men and women.\n\nHave you ever seen videos on YouTube of cats smacking the shit out of dogs? It’s hilarious, right? Seeing a big fluffy dog getting the shit kicked out of him by a little furry cat is just too ridiculous to see. But man, once the dog starts fighting back, all hell breaks loose and the dog gets branded as the fucking devil.\n\nFunnily enough, it works out the same way for men and women. Women beat the shit out of men in many different ways. But they don’t go for jabs or hooks. They go deep.\n\nThey go for your soul.\n\nThey can splash a drink on your face, talk shit about your beliefs and your dreams, scream about how small your dick is, and everything in between. And as a man, all you can do is walk away. Because the moment you flip and hit a woman, it’s straight to prison for you.\n\n# 2. Women Date Upwards\nTypically, women like to date men that are better than them. This means looking out for guys who are taller than them, stronger than them, makes more money than them, and are funnier than them.\n\nOkay, okay. I hear some of you ladies groaning in the corner.\n\n“What the hell are you talking about!? I make my own money! I’M AN INDEPENDENT WOMAN!”\n\nThat’s cool. But ask yourselves, do you really want a bitch of a guy as your man? You go get groceries, and he tells you to carry more bags to the car because he can’t lift as much as you? Or, when you get a flat tyre, you see your man calling the tow company because he can’t even fucking swap out the busted tyre with the spare one? When the floorboards start creaking at night, do you really want to see your man make a break for the bedroom window instead of grabbing a flashlight and checking what’s up?\n\nNo, you don’t. You don’t want a bitch of a guy as your man. You want a capable man that you can rely on when shit hits the fan.\n\nSo, going back to what I was saying, if women generally like men who are better than them, what does this mean for the other side of the equation? Well, what men end up having are women who are shorter than us, weaker than us, makes less money than us, and more boring than us. So, what’s left to like?\n\nYour face, ass, and tits. Now, do you understand?\n\nI know this sounds terrible, but what else would you expect? Don’t get me wrong — I’m all for breaking the stereotype. But doing so means having the ladies date men who are dumber than them, chunkier than them, shorter than them, and make less money than them.\n\nSo, go ahead and lead the way ladies. Start dating the gents with the minimum wage paycheck, double-D man tits and the eight-month-baby-looking beer gut they got hanging in front of them.\n\nWe’re just tagging along with what you guys want.\n\n# 3. Who’s the Bitch, Really?\n\nMen who like to be all gangsta’ typically refer to their women as “bitches”. This typically means being in a superior position over a woman. But, as the years passed, I’ve begun to pick up on certain clues. Clues, that, once you piece together, prove that a “platonic” relationship a guy thought he has with a woman is actually a life-long sentence of servitude.\n\nPeople generally call this contract the friend zone. But, I prefer describing the victim of this predatory relationship using more powerful, descriptive words: a man-bitch.\n\n### Types of Man-Bitches\n1. I Need To Move, So Carry Shit For Me Bitch\n2. My Boyfriend is Hurting My Feelings, Make Me Feel Better Bitch\n3. Pay For My Brunch Bitch\n4. I’m Bored, Give Me Attention Bitch\n5. All My Girlfriends Are Busy, So Watch The Notebook With Me Bitch\n\nAnd the list goes on and on.\n\nTimes have changed, my friend. And you better pay more attention, not just for yourself, but for your other guy friends as well.\n\nCall that shit out. Save a brother from being some lady’s bitch.\n\n# 4. It’s a Man’s Job to be Rejected\n\n“Dude, she’s sitting alone. That’s the sign! PAY FUCKING ATTENTION! SHE’S TELLING YOU TO WALK UP THERE and TALK TO HER.”\n\nThis is one of the most common advice men get when it comes to approaching women. And, contrary to popular belief, women do make the first move. But, these aren’t moves per se. Rather, these are signs. Clues, if you will. Signals that are thrown out towards the perpetually unsuspecting man to communicate her desire to be approached.\n\nHowever, no matter how many clues get thrown towards the man’s way, nothing will happen unless the man makes his move. So, it’s up to us to grab our balls, amp ourselves up, and walk up to this woman like a gentleman while she sits pretty and flirts with the bartender.\n\nWe get shut down nine times out of ten. And it hurts, especially in the beginning. But, if you keep on doing it enough times, you’ll start giving less fucks. Because, in the end, dating isn’t a game of fate where you wait for the stars to align while as you lie and bask in the comfort of your bedroom.\n\nDating is a brutal game of attrition. It’s about learning how to cut your losses while knowing you gave that person a fair shot. It’s about guarding your heart until you know it’s the right time. It’s about learning to put yourself first no matter how good the dates get.\n\n# 5. Relationships are a Power Struggle\n\nNow, say you got lucky, found a decent enough woman, and ended up moving past a situationship towards a relationship. You pat yourself on the back as you celebrate all the hard work you put into wooing this lady.\n\nYou thought the hard part was over. Au contraire, it’s only just begun.\n\nIn the beginning, relationships tend to be constant a power struggle between the man and the woman. And, nobody tends to suspect anything because both parties are too busy putting each other’s best foot forward.\n\nIt starts out with the woman being indecisive. You ask her where she wants to eat, and she replies that she doesn’t know. You ask her what she wants to eat, and she tells you she’s not hungry. So, you go ahead and buy yourself a burger and fries. Then, right as when you put your tray down and start unpeeling the paper wrapper of your juicy beef burger, she goes ahead and grabs your freshly fried, sea salt fries.\n\nNow, you mutter inside your head, “The fuck? She just told me she wasn’t hungry!” Men tend to get confused when this happens. And, I get it. But, I’ve learned that the reason why this happens could be one of three things:\n\n1. She WAS hungry, and she wanted to you to insist on getting something for her (also known as a “shit test”).\n2. She didn’t know she was hungry, until five minutes after.\n3. She’s just fucking with you.\n\nThis goes on up until six months or so. She starts taking the back seat more, and you start calling the shots. It’s also during this period where the woman starts doing nice things for her man.\n\nYou get back from work, and you see your clothes neatly folded up in your closet instead of being piled up on “the chair”. You wake up, and she already has coffee made for you. And you’re like, “God damn, this is the life!” You’re all set and ready to go for work until you realise that you’ve lost your keys, yet again! So you go ahead and ask your woman because she always knows.\n\nThen, the sixth month arrives. Soon enough, you fuck up a bit too much than your usual fuck ups. You didn’t text back while you were hanging out with “that lady from work” because you were too drunk. Or, you forgot that yesterday was your anniversary. Fuck knows. I bet you don’t even know why she’s pissed.\n\nThe point is, the “conversation” eventually happens:\n \nWoman: “You never let me do anything! You always decide!”\nMan: “Oh I’m sorry, baby. What do you want to do today? We can do whatever you want!”\nWoman: “You’ll be nothing without me! You’ll have no clothes to wear and no coffee in the morning. Hell, you don’t even know where your keys are!”\n\nAnd, you’ll be like, “Fuck, I actually don’t know where my keys are!”\n\nSee, the past six months haven’t been done entirely from the goodness of her heart. She’s been keeping some of that goodwill on the side, primed and ready to be fired like a North Korean nuke headed straight for your face. And, all it takes for World War Three to happen is you pissing her off one last time.\n\nOn the other hand, you’ve forgotten how to take care of yourself. You’ve forgotten how to be single.\n\nYou’ve forgotten how to be a man.\n\nAnd, that’s when you know you’re really fucked.\n\n# 6. “Old-Fashioned” Women\n\nAll the dates I’ve been in New Zealand have gone pretty swimmingly when it comes to paying the bill. We line up, pay for what we ordered, and move on.\n\nEasy.\n\nBut, occasionally, you meet women who like to go “old school”. You’ve heard them, the ones that say, “Guys should pay on the first date. I’m old school like that.”\n\nOh yeah? Well, good thing I’m old school too. So how about you put on an apron and I’ll pay for the food once you make it!\n\nC’mon ladies. You can’t pick the old school values that end up working out for you and ignore the rest. You can’t pick and choose.\n\nThis ain’t a buffet.\n\nBesides, that’s not you being “old school”. That’s just you being a manipulative bitch. You ain’t my mom. We’re not related. We’re not friends. You got a job.\n\nPay for your food.\n\nBesides, if we do end up getting along with each other, I bet that having us pay for your food wouldn’t bother us in the least. And, this is not us attacking your independence. This is just us trying to be nice.\n\n# 7. “Where Have all the Good Guys Gone?”\n\nHow many times have you heard a woman say “Where have all the good guys gone?”\n\nLook around lady. They’re everywhere. The problem is, you’re not even looking. You’re selecting.\n\nThere’s a difference.\n\nLooking isn’t you sorting through all the guys you know and saying “Nope, too ugly. Nope, too short. Nope, too poor.” And I have no problem with women having standards.\n\nThat’s fair.\n\nThat doesn’t mean good men have gone extinct. It just means you can’t find a man that fits your standards. So, all this boils down to is you checking if there’s a reasonable ratio between how high your standards are and how much you really have to offer as a woman.\n\n# 8. Being a Slut is Easy. Being a Pimp is Hard Work.\n\nWhat does a woman in a bar need to do to get laid? Get a drink, sit on a stool, and wait. Or, if she’s drunk enough, stand on a table, scream that she’s single, and point at her pussy.\n\nDo the former as a guy, and you might as well go home drunk at 4 am and jerk off. Do the latter, and you’re bound to get splashed on the face by a multitude of alcoholic beverages and have your ass kicked out by the bouncer in quick succession.\n\nNothing’s gonna happen if you just sit around as a guy.\n\nGuys have to learn how to talk themselves from nothing into something. It’s what society expects out of a man. We learn how it feels like to get our asses kicked over and over again faster than women because we’ve been doing it for far longer.\n\nThis is the modern man’s “hunt”. We need to give things a shot. All this, just to get the thing women crave so much: “game”.\n\nGame is a simple word that explains something that’s far more complicated. So, what does it mean to have “game”? Let me break it down for you:\n\n### The Essential Components of “Game”\n\n1. Career\n2. Direction\n3. Confidence\n4. Wit\n5. Charm\n\nGame is a lot of things. And the one thing that lies in common with these different characteristics is time. You don’t get to have game just by existing. It takes surviving rough patches in your life and learning from the mistakes you made. It takes believing in yourself even if everything is falling apart. It takes going through so much rejection that you learn not to take things too seriously.\n\nOn the other hand, say you have two women sitting together at a bar. One’s an accomplished lawyer and the other works at Burger King. Who do you think will get hit on more?\n\nThe one who looks better.\n\nIn the eyes of a man, it doesn’t matter what you’ve got under the hood. All we need to walk up to you and risk our asses getting handed to us is you to look nice.\n\nThis is why I don’t feel bad when you got “pimps” walking around with ladies around them. Yeah, even the fat ugly ones. Most likely, he’s got a lot more going on that what you can see. Plus, the fatter and uglier you are, the more successful you have to be as a man.\n\nIt takes hard work to be a pimp. It doesn’t take a lot to be a whore.\n\n# 9. Women Want a Winner\n\n“Why do I always end up with douchebags? I swear, from this point on, I’ll date nicer guys who will actually give a shit about me!”\n\nA few weeks later, she’s dating the crack dealer down the street while her childhood friend is still mailing her love letters and roses.\n\nWomen don’t want nice. Why? Because nice is boring. Nice is Beta. They want the Alpha. They want a man who has a path, and will do everything to pursue that path even if it means she gets bumped down to second place.\n\nWomen say they want to be put first. But, deep down, they really don’t. Why? The moment they’re on the pedestal is when things start to get boring real quick. That’s when men start becoming Beta Males. They start doing whatever you want, listening to all your problems, and taking time off just so they can watch Bridesmaids with you for the eleventh time.\n\nHe gets so Beta that even if you wanted him to fight you just so he can fight for himself, he wouldn’t. He’d rather lose himself than lose you. And that’s the worst kind of man a woman can have.\n\nIn the end, most women don’t want to win. They want a winner.\n\n_Follow me on Medium: https://medium.com/@LanceNavarro_",
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      "title": "Why Dating Sucks: A Guy’s Perspective"
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