Some of you may realize what a (sometimes) ridiculous romantic I am from reading my posts around the blogosphere. I’m the whole goofy package – I’ve fallen in love at first sight and stayed with that girl for 5 years. I’ve written girls poetry (years ago, but still). I go into my present girlfriend’s closet and put lovey/sexy notes in the pockets of her hanging clothes so she finds them days later – that’s how “bad” I am now.  I used to be worse.

I was In. Love. with a girl once. It was my first time, and it was intense.

I came back from the Sandbox, and she was 6 months pregnant.  I’d been away for longer than that.  Math sucks, sometimes.

I very nearly killed myself. I was so miserable and depressed for about a year and a half that I barely remember that time passing. I believed with every fiber of my being that the rest of my life was certain to be grey and cold, a shitty blurred Polaroid of something meant for 3D IMAX.

There would never be another.

I was…..doomed.

The Universe had issued me my ration of PERFECT LOVE, Model # M35A2 Quantity 1 (one) each, 0 (ZERO) REFILLS.

Then I’d gone off to the desert and lost it.

It was gone.

I was so depressed, miserable, and angry that even my own mother didn’t like being around me. Here’s a direct quote:

“I love you. You’re my son and I always will…but I don’t like you very much right now. Some part of you is still over there, and the rest is with HER. I’m scared for you.”

That snapped me out of it a bit, and I went and got some help. I thought most of my problems were war shit, but probably 60% of the stuff I talked about with the therapist was about my ex-girlfriend. That was actually surprising to me.

About this time, I started working as a bouncer, got back into Krav, and going to school part time. I read some David DeAngelo. I dated some girls. And then….

Guess what happened?

I fell in love with a girl who loved me back.

It felt like a new lease on life. Hope returned.

I stayed with that girl for a year and a bit. When I ended it, I was depressed. The situation sucked, and I had to move out of my apartment quickly.

I stayed single on purpose for several months to clear my head….and then I got right back into it.

I didn’t love either girl more or less – the difference was that I had incontrovertible, empiric proof of ThereWillAlwaysBeAnotherWoman. That little law of nature saved me from more years of depression and misery. All I had to do to start the machinery of TWABAW working was stay in shape, pursue my interests, and keep running my own weird version of Game on girls I thought had potential. The Universe takes care of everything else.

In a way, I’m grateful for the experience. I know in my bones that there will always be another woman. This is probably the most powerful Game tool I posses.
TWABAW doesn’t care if you believe or not – it’s a law of nature. Invoke it by getting in shape, pursuing your interests, and chatting up girls you like. It’ll be operating on you before you know it.

Yours in Former Suicidal Oneitis,

Dogsquat, 5th Assistant Vice President

Stamp Out Oneitis Foundation of America
13550 North Highway 93
Las Vegas, NV 89124


8 thoughts on “Oneitis

  1. TWABAW. Men need to understand this.

    It’s maudlin, but… even a wife can be replaced. I know if it really came down to it, if she left me, or cheated on me – I could replace her. Maybe not immediately, and maybe not with a model “of like kind and quality”. But I could and would replace her.

  2. “TWABAW doesn’t care if you believe or not – it’s a law of nature. Invoke it by getting in shape, pursuing your interests, and chatting up girls you like. It’ll be operating on you before you know it.”

    This is what i discovered shortly after starting to work out and gain traction commiserating with ladyfolk after my marriage tanked. For 3 months i saw nothing but black emptiness. How could i replace the woman i loved so much i walked down the alter for and would have done anything for?

    Replaceable. We all are.

    It finally made sense what others told me, never get in so far that you cannot get out at a moments notice. This doesn’t mean ‘dont love’. It simply means don’t lose yourself in someone else to a degree where you hand them the power to destroy you, there can always be another one. Life will go on.

    I proved it to myself by moving on with my life and becoming 1000x better than who i was when i was married. On my own, without the support of ‘my better half’. All my success’s belong to me, all my transition belongs to me, all of my happiness belongs to me.

    Oneitus, PussyPedestal, Unrequited Love… it’s all the same. A disease.
    Exercise, a healthy diet, and learning some quality inner game is the cure.

  3. Men are the true romantics.

    I had my TWABAW moment when I was 26. I’d been having casual, flirty drinks with a girl who worked in another department in my fairly large company. She’s recently broken up with a semi-long-term boyfriend and he’s moved out of town. After a couple of weeks, flirty drinks had turned into a fuck-buddy relationship. She didn’t want to start a serious relationship so soon after the breakup but, well, you know, a girl has needs. Needs like “hi, I know it’s a weeknight and we both have to work, and it’s 12:30am, but can you hop in a cab and get down here in 10 minutes? Bring clothes for work tomorrow…” I didn’t get a lot of sleep during these weeks.

    For nearly two months this went on, with me sleeping at her place 2-3 times a week. It was just a FB thing, right? Just enjoy the bennies, LostSailor. Be cool.

    I hadn’t actually realized that I’d fallen for her, really fallen for her until she dropped the bomb on me: she’s getting back with her ex and moving to his city. Thanks for all the bedroom romps, you’re great, see you.

    I was actually deeply surprised at how irrationally angry I became at what I felt was a complete betrayal. And I was aware how irrational it was, but I still doubles my running miles while listening to Dire Straits “Romeo & Juliet” on a loop on the CD player, pounding the pavement with my anger.

    Fortunately, I had good friends then. After a couple of months of this they staged an intervention by setting me up with a girl who was a polar opposite in looks and personality from little miss FB, and after we’d hooked up, one friend quietly said to me over beers one night, “see, LostSailor, there’s always more.”

    And it’s true. But I still think of Miss FB on occasion…

  4. I still have a scar I think of as “Kathy’s Bracelet” on my left wrist. If Id used a weapon a would not be here. I am going to be 60 (God willing). I believed, fervently, that it was all about looks. Period. Nothing else mattered. What I didn’t understand that for a guy, yeah, looks helped, But it was the confidence, assurance that looks gave that was almost if not more important. Did not get that. Plus I’m bipolar, back when it was called manic/depression and not everyone and his mother was diagnosed with it. Anyway, Red Pill would have helped. I sort of got red pilled (although they were yellow) when I got my meds squared away.

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