Being In Hell

Say no more.

Say no more.

As some of the more perceptive among you may have read recently, Words Of A Man had recently taken a darker turn. While we have not been afraid to detail issues of a darker nature such as depression & other related subjects before now, recent posts may have been more cryptic to any reader who has one recently joined us.

And I make absolutely no apology for that. Words Of A Man has never been intended to be simply a ‘game’ blog; there are plenty of those out there already, many of which happy to monetise themselves to their final ebb. ‘Game’ as most commonly described in the pickup of women, like anything, can only be analysed to a finite degree before further supposed analysis becomes nothing more than opinionated speculation. This is similar to the level to which professional sports are debated & deconstructed; there comes a point where effectively, anyone can take the existing analysis, interpret it in their own way & then either continue to add to the noise for the desire of inflating their perceived standing within the field, or actually implement it with actions. Most ‘game’ fundamentals a man requires can be found in previous posts in this blog.

From my own reading in my humble beginnings to becoming the writer I am now, almost every story of a ‘player’ in the ‘game’ has not been straightforward. From my introduction into this universe much like many others with Neil Strauss’s ‘The Game’ some years ago now, going through the works of Ross Jefferies & finally to some of my contemporaries, the story always takes a turn. You can fuck a thousand girls but sooner or later someone is going to come along & switch up the entire process you think you’ve confidently got nailed down. Before you know it, you’re going to be in disarray, abandoning everything you’ve taught yourself until that point, as you desperately try to retain who has changed the whole script.

From my central European base previously, I would understandably be perceived as having a pretty good setup. A great place to live in the centre of town, loads of girls, lots of money & the safety net of a relationship with someone in another country. My ego was entirely filled, as there simply was no risk & plenty of upside. When that period came to it’s natural end, what remained of course was only to come down from this high.

In my case, the transitional period was a mixed bag. The promise of moving to the Americas in the new year was a great prospect to look forward to, as I collected my last inflated paychecks & enjoyed Christmas & New Year with my family. I moved my things back & sank into the downtime.

Things with Main I had considered as over. While there was still contact, my other experiences had opened my eyes somewhat. It felt like there was an abundance of women. It hadn’t taken me long to find Venezuelan & another very attractive twenty four year old Hungarian girl, both of which were down for some fun over the holiday period & particularly in the case of the former, much fun was indeed had.

As I reached the beginning of February, my first doubts about the viability of the Americas began to pop into my head. While still employed & earning a comparatively good wage, the only interviews I’d had were where my consultancy had thrown me at something & see if I’d stuck or not. Being thrown into interviews with questions you cannot answer even if you prepared because the information isn’t publicly available isn’t fun. I decided to continue with Main, by spending half my time abroad with her. It was actually very nice – she tried very hard to ensure my time there was enjoyable & it was much nicer for me to be waiting there for my next assignment, rather than wasting away the hours alone at my parents house.

Thanks to social media & a wildly unfortunate turn of events, she ultimately discovered about the trip where I met BM-13. I was asked to leave. I left, in hindsight quite panicky but feeling as though this been resolved & reached it’s natural end.

For the first week, I thought I was fine. A little regretful at first of course, but otherwise fine.

By the end of the first week, I broke down on the phone to her. I’d been utterly consumed by guilt & regret of hurting someone who although had betrayed me somewhat, had done comparable little to what other women may have done in the same situation. We spoke & things looked reconcilable. She agreed to speak again on the Sunday.

She rang me late Saturday night, in tears. She said things could never be the same again. The trust could never been there again & it was over. Whatever I said or proposed about how we’d essentially been through this before in reversed roles fell in deaf ears. It was done. Again, I panicked & told her I couldn’t speak with her again & went back to the party where Venezuelan had been kept busy by a friend’s girlfriend. I managed to cover my tracks & took her home.

The following two weeks I can only describe as a slow descent into a maddening & truly hopeless hell. The guilt & regret consumed me entirely. Despite filling my days with constructive activities & seeing the other two aforementioned girls, I was barely able to function. I organised a day trip for Venezuelan & I to the coast, the entire duration of which I felt like I was about to burst into tears. How I managed to not do so astounded me, but soon after I had taken her home, I totally fell to pieces in my own bed.

I had tried to contact Main that week, gently at first but with increased desperation as the weeks continued. By the end of the two weeks, my sole activities consisted of constantly checking my email to see if she’d replied, checking her Instagram as it was the only window I had into her life & lying in my bed, a truly broken man. I couldn’t even move my body, eat, or function in any way. I lost 7kg in a week.

It ultimately resulted in a full nervous breakdown, the 5th April 2015 at approximately 8:20pm.

Coincidentally enough, Main texted me later that night about 11pm, telling me simply she never wanted to see me again & it was over. I found it when randomly waking up at 2am. My body heated up to uncontrollable levels. I told myself to calm down, thinking about how until now all my decisions until now had been made in a panic. I tried to rationally absorb this new information. I had already booked flights to fly to see her the following morning.

After two hours of deliberation, I must have hit acceptance stage. I went back to sleep for a while, woke up & informed my mother it was definitely over. I wouldn’t be travelling abroad. I was still upset inside & of course feeling fragile but nothing like the crippling weakness that had controlled my body up until now. I immediately put plans into action to move to the capital the following week & start building my life again, starting with a variety of tasks that day.

I met a good old friend the following day & had a good time. The wound was still raw but at least closed now. Sadness was still within but the finality of the simple late night message acted as the final killing blow for me. Despite my regret & guilt at hurting someone far more important to me than I had previously realised who didn’t deserve that, I had to forgive myself at some point, else risk never being able to move on.

Following my trip to see my old friend, I’d had the idea to write a letter to Main. Although practically everything you read about how to deal with a breakup will tell you this is not something you should do, I had not listened to my gut in some time, & so decided to this once give it a shot. As my friend had widely advised however, any letter I write should not be for my own benefit or based around me – rather for it to be the final expulsion of anything I may still hold within.

Sixteen pages later & it was done. It was my final goodbye & everything was done. I prepared for this next chapter of my life. I had cleared out my mind & soul, forgiven myself & made concrete preparations to change my circumstances for what would be most beneficial for my soul, given what remained of my previous world. The whole chapter was over & I had finally accepted it.

Unexpectedly, Main said she wanted to talk. Without boring you with the details, it’s resulted in us again being together & living together, with everything out on the table from the past & making a completely fresh start.

I feel rejuvenated. I could have continued without her & continued living my old lifestyle indefinitely.

But the honest truth was, although I was going out with a bang, it was getting quite tiresome. The amount of money, energy & time required to sustain a lot of women was preventing me from doing a lot of other things. I realised aside from this blog, I was doing nothing creative whatsoever. I was pursuing no business ventures at all. I was effectively only basing my time around sleeping with woman.

If you’ve never done this, it sounds great. I would say you probably should do it, to gain a range of experience. But to swing too hard one way or another with anything, is eventually going to be tiring. The total lack of stability in my life had become quite negative & certainly something which now, I have to remedy.

The biggest positive about hitting the bottom is, if somehow you survive it you can only go up. I hurt someone I cared about & was ravaged by guilt, but I was additionally guilty not acknowledging a chapter was closing & furthermore, not remembering to forgive myself.

~ Unjaded

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