An interesting phenomenon in the Manosphere is all the women who enjoy reading us. This is interesting since our philosophy on the surface has nothing to offer them (something I myself want to alleviate a little).
So I’ve been emailing a groupie here and there the last couple months about my articles and general philosophy. She wrote pretty in-depth responses about her thoughts on things. I actually have a few readers I do this with, but the others are all male. Anyway, in the last week or so we’ve gotten a little more personal, and I asked if she was interested in long distance dating, since she seemed wife-quality and only lived in a few hours away. She didn’t mention anything about a boyfriend while continuing to write after I asked if she wanted to video chat, so I figured she either didn’t have one or had one but thought about leaving him for an established writer with real skills and talents.
I didn’t give much personal information and certainly not my real name. I sent a few generic photos and told her my city (which is on an RVForum thread anyway), but I’m not sure how much that matters, considering how often internet scandals are forgotten. If anything, it would make people read me more. I doubt construction companies care what you write on the internet.
Today I get an email from a different address, firstname.lastname@example.org, with the name Anon Anon. I’m just showing the address so that you can see what an idiotic name it is, not so that you can spam him. Subject line was “Hi, Blair.” Listen to the smug tone, especially his high-minded vocabulary choice (names have been edited out):
“I have really enjoyed getting to know you on a personal level, although you do not know me.
I have laughed with you, felt your challenges, relished in the acuity with which you have developed your ideals.
The fusion of earnest passion and logical dispassion that defines a well-rounded adult male mind.
The slightly dorky but still refined and gentlemanly sport of fencing! The feint! The prise de fer! The tension of life or death struggle in ages past, now transmuted into sport; art.
Does the good man on the Ganges River go to hell, for the sin of being born outside Christianity?
I hope not.
Does the good man in Missouri feel rejection for being outside my loving relationship with the woman you know only as “AQ?”
Again, I hope not.
I wish you all the best, but I must respectfully ask you to discontinue your advances. It’s been fun, but I fear that we’re getting too close to the brink of trolling you….and you do seem, under all your quaint, slightly misogynistic bullshit, to be a good guy.
Again, all the best, and I hope you find a wife that will make you happy, challenge you to grow and learn, and maybe even keep you in line from time to time, as “A—” does for me.
P.S. The Rolling Stones are utter shit, and you should listen to Death Grips.”
My sole response:
“Ah…Yes, well, that’s why I asked, “Is A— your real name?” I had a suspicion it might be as such.
Well done, though. You write in a woman’s voice very well.
However, the true loser is you. You’ve spent two months emailing someone back and forth for what? A mere trolling? And you wrote really long emails too.”
I like how I’m only “slightly” misogynistic and “a good guy”. I make a point to not come off as the stereotypical Manosphere commenter.
A friend of mine told me, “Loser isn’t a hard enough word. She seriously didn’t have anything better to do? Get a hobby bitch.”
So upon further inspection, it looks like it was just a boyfriend or husband who wrote under Anon Anon and not her. The tone of voice is especially different. Either she showed him the emails or he hacked into her account. Most likely the former, and she’s just a troll with too much time on her hands.
Either way, one of them is far more sadistic and hateful than I ever could be. Who spends two months writing at length just to troll someone? Do these SJWs not have anything better to do with their lives? And it’s not like they pulled some impressive prank. It is, after all, mere letter-writing. You can say anything, and the recipient has little way of telling whether or not you are lying. Which, again, is why I didn’t give any actual important information.
If you lived in my backwater area, you’d give an interview to whatever “maybe” quality girl you came across. Pickings are really slim here. So maybe she’s a troll, or maybe she just has a dick boyfriend, but we’ll likely never know.
I forwarded the email to her and said that I’m not writing her until she gives me proof that she exists, which is pretty much impossible. If this is just a jelly boyfriend who needs to go to jelly school, then she’ll probably break up with him, and then he’ll be without his “loving relationship”. But again, we’ll never know. And in most likelihood, she’s a bored white millennial girl with no real skills looking to play a prank on the patriarchy.
Matt Forney told me,
“You could have headed this off when it started by demanding that she send you a pic of herself holding up a sign that said “Blair Naso is Awesome.” Add in the requirement that she do it topless to really test her dedication.”
Forney has quite the way with words. Truly one of the brightest stars of the Manosphere.
Update: Further (and final) communications with the girl have shown that she is a troll, but they aren’t worth reprinting here. At any rate, most girls who have a boyfriend tell you that when you ask them out, since it’s the easiest way to get a guy to quit advancing. But then again, that wouldn’t provide that sweet heroine of attention and supposed power.
I also meant to mention that the pictures don’t matter because nobody remembers faces from the internet once they log off. Cracked.com’s Daniel O’Brien says people never recognize his face, even when he tells them he works for Cracked. I had already been contemplating doing youtube dance instruction videos in the future. And most of the country doesn’t give a damn about what person on the internet said what inflammatory thing, no matter how much their picture is posted on Twitter for three weeks.
I guarantee you that if Roosh or Forney were to quit writing, within five years the world would forget their names and faces.
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