[Editor's note: This was originally published to the now defunct .com as a series of blog posts in early 2011.]
February 5th, 2011
As I may have already mentioned, we are fast approaching the one year anniversary of "the incident." Therefore, I'll be taking a break from regularly scheduled Internet Hate Machine content (haha, there is no regularly scheduled content) to bring you a series of posts which examine what happened, why it may have happened, and maybe what it all meant. This will, of course, be difficult. The incident was the culmination of 21+ years of living, and most of my life is a private and guarded one. I don't much like starting at the beginning so we'll begin somewhere in the middle and call it good -
Christmas 2009. Most of my Christmases, for a long time, have been awful, and Christmas 2009 was no exception - I spent it alone in my barracks room in Okinawa, reading blogs and listening to music. Christmas 2008 was fairly poor - handling C-bass's baby momma and all, followed up with some shit back home that didn't sit well with me. Christmas 2007 was spent in boot camp. Christmas 2006 was shared with my boss out in Salt Lake City - we watched the Rocky Balboa reboot and ate at some Chinese buffet, where he got food poisoning (I avoided the questionable meat). Christmases prior to that were spent with my mother and whoever she may or may not have been courting at the time; basically, Christmas has sucked since at least 2002 or 2003 when my parents split up and C-bass was no longer a regular part of the festivities.
Several forces had been building throughout 2009 which converged in December of that year to put me in an off-kilter mood. Starting in March, I had been busily engaged with submitting paperwork to be considered for the Marine Security Guard program. This is a prestigious assignment and involves guarding U.S. embassies overseas. Submitting paperwork for it is an arduous process which involves getting interviewed by a fuckton of people, going through a fuckton of medical examinations, and getting dicked around. My command was less than supportive and stalled up the process twice; long story short my paperwork wasn't fully submitted until September or so. And this was only after spending my birthday (September 10th) performing a PFT (physical fitness test) for my 1stSgt in 100 degree weather with 100% humidity to prove to him that I was tough enough for MSG or some shit (in direct violation of the battalion commander's orders regarding how packages should be submitted, no less). I had a lot of hopes for my tour in MSG and had been virtually guaranteed by my Career Planner and by the MSG staff that I would be accepted into the program.
While that was going on, I was experiencing lackluster results with female companionship. Get ready to groan, but in January 2009, I signed up for an online dating site. I had isolated myself from the dating market for a long time before this point, and had more or less forgotten why it was that I hated women. If all I were after was a quick lay, I'm sure I could pick up Game (or could have just applied any of the lessons I learned from my brother, who is a natural) but that's not what I'm after. I know it's shocking but I don't believe that Not All Women Are Like That, because for years I made it my mission to seek out that one who wasn't. Obviously, then, I would try to court her, but, I haven't even fucking found her yet. Which reminds me...
Truth Pill #2: All women are like that. If they're not like that now, they're just waiting to be like that eventually.
In any event, from January to about August or so, I talked to some 300 different women from that site. And I'm not counting instances that were just "hello, what's your name, how are?" I'm talking about pretty full blown conversations with lots of depth. All of them ended up displaying some kind of neurosis beyond my control sooner or later. I had been hoping to find someone interesting and take some leave to go visit them (since, aside from C-bass, I don't have much family to speak of, and after my last visit with him in Christmas 08, I was a little C-bassed out). Okinawa was becoming awful and I needed to get away no matter what; as it turned out, I wasn't able to find a woman to visit so I just talked to Ghrog and planned to visit my hometown for a while but stay with him (so I could avoid my mother).
It was around this time I sought out Nice Guy's website again, having fond memories of it from my youth, and was surprised to see that it had been resurrected. I read through all of his posts again but needed more catharsis and commiseration so I began seeking out similar sites and authors. This would eventually lead to the discovery of the MRM blogosphere (something which wasn't around in 2006 when I protested feminism at my high school, for instance) and constituted the bulk of my reading on Christmas 2009 - in particular, Female Misogynist's blog was devoured.
But we skipped ahead, a little. December 2009 was a time of extreme disappointment for me. On December 3rd, I received word on the final disposition of my MSG package - I was denied because I did not have enough time in my primary MOS. What this means, more or less, is that one of the guys who said he would release me for the duty lied to my face and to my Career Planner's face when he signed a piece of paper stating that he would let me go. Because I'd been working so hard on this thing since March and because everyone had basically promised that I'd be accepted, the "no" was pretty devastating. I had already sold a lot of my personal belongings in anticipation of being accepted.
I reacted by fucking around with my old blog (Restitution) a whole lot; at first I took it all the way offline but eventually settled into deleting most of the archives for public consumption. (They go all the way back to 2004, and yes, I still have them.) We'll close this one up by quoting a post no longer publicly available and by forgetting about the fact that I said we were starting at Christmas 2009 but never really talked much about Christmas:
Work is work and that's always irritating, but I finally got back the ultimate word on my package to go to MSG (a process that's been going on since March or April) – I was denied. The reason? I don't have enough time in my MOS to establish enough credit. What this means is that some of the people I talked to when I was putting in my package out and out lied to me and told me false things, making me believe I could get accepted for the program and wasting my time and energy. And once again, I made the mistake of actually investing myself into the process and wound up desirous of the prospect, and am now disappointed that I am not going to go.
This disappointment and the emotional responses I am having to it only remind me of other disappointments and desires unfulfilled – there's no one I feel I can properly talk to about this, that I would want to talk to about this. Furthermore, I am not allowed any time to be disappointed. I must keep marching forward and put on, if not a smile, then a neutral grimace – not just because I am a man but also because I am a Marine.
Why care about anything? Why become invested in anything? I have never been able to attain for myself the any of the things which I truly and deeply have wanted. This only leads to disappointment – not a trifling kind of disappointment, but a crippling and painful kind. So why want at all? Is it possible to rid oneself entirely of desire? I am very wary from all of the disappointment that has been heaped upon my life. I am weary. I feel I am growing weaker, like all of my energy, my very essence (if there is such a thing) is slowly seeping away from me as the years peel away and my desires continue to go unfulfilled.
It seems, upon first glance, there are two possible options: to curb my ambitions or to build a better support network. Neither option seems all that likely; I have tried to curb my ambitions in the past and ironically end up making them larger than what they were at the outset (ex: Become an infantry Marine curbed to becoming a maintenance Marine ballooning into becoming an MSG Marine); building a better support network requires a degree of trust that people are undeserving of due to empirical problems regarding reliability and the transience of all relationships. But to expunge from myself desire entirely? Is that even possible? It would solve both problems – without desire the scope of my ambitions would become irrelevant, as I would not be emotionally involved in them. And I would not need a support network at all; I would be able to sustain myself.
I just do not know if I am that strong of a person, though – that good of a stoic. I have never been a particularly strong person.