For a while it seemed like we were gonna be rich. My dad started buying nice suits. My mom started shopping at nicer stores. She even got a boob job. I think she just wanted to fit in with the other founder’s wives. He got a Mercedes. He even got a license plate that spelled out “Mirava” but with a 1 for the I, because someone else got it with the actual ‘I’.  Turns out they weren’t in the business, “Mirava” was the name of that dude’s Russian mistress. Anyway….”

“And how old were you?” 

Probably 11 when it all started. For a while my parents seemed really happy. Even kind of in love.  My dad worked his ass off. He was always gone. He smoked like a chimney – always did, ever since he was a teenager, I think.  But especially when he was working hard. He never slept. Lived on fast food in his car. Tons of stress.  One winter he got really sick. Couldn’t quit coughing. Passed out. Ended up in the ER. A week later he came home with a breathing tube shoved down his throat and stuck in a chair, probably for the rest of his life. 

“Holy shit, my friend.” 

“Yeah. It was pretty rough on everyone. My parents kind of stopped talking at that point.  They argued over money, I mean, as much as you can argue with a guy that has a tube shoved down his throat.  Dad was still in. He wanted to invest more in Mirava. All the juice in the garage went bad in the heat.  The Mirava people stopped coming around. He was so sure it would heal him like it did the founder. My mom got real mean. She would yell about “our last 7 thousand bucks” while she would search the classifieds for a job. Everything got real nasty real fast. She even took up smoking for a while. I think it was the stress.” 

“Yeah, I’ve seen this before…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You wanna know what’s really going on here?”

“Yeah.”

“Throughout most of human history, women have been the more vulnerable sex. Sure, they are strong and capable, but as soon as they get pregnant, everything changes. They need help. They need to be protected and cared for. And once the baby shows up, she – AND the baby – need to be protected and cared for.  So how do you think that influenced our caveman grandmothers and their preferences for men?” 

“Um… “

“Let me ask you this, Kevin. How many caveman ancestors do you have, how many caveman grandmothers do you think you have, who didn’t care about being protected and provided for?” 

“Uh….”

“None, Kevin. None. There might have been ONE, but she and her baby didn’t live long enough to pass on their genes because nobody was protecting and providing for them, so they got eaten by some fucking saber toothed tiger, and so you did not descend from any such ancestors. None, bro.  Every single cell in your body, every single bit of DNA you have, got passed down to you because some caveman grandmother got real picky about only getting fucked by cavemen who were capable of providing and protecting her and the baby.  You see where this takes us?” 

“I think so…”

“Yeah Kevin, that means that in all those cells in your body – they are also purely the result of caveman grandpas who were willing, and able, to protect and provide so that his babies could survive long enough to fuck again and make the same kinds of choices that would repeat over time, over, and over, and over again.  The only reason you and I exist, Kevin, is to protect and provide, and all the women you wanna fuck? They are running the same program – just the vulnerable female side of it. It is ancient and it’s ain’t going anywhere.” 

“Okay….”

“So here’s the deal, my friend. Think of that high school girlfriend you told me about. What was her name again?

“Heather Ada…

“Heather. Yep. Heather. Here’s the bitter medicine, my bro. She dumped you because she was afraid you wouldn’t provide and protect.”

“But we were just freshmen.”

“Doesn’t matter bro. As soon as a girl starts into puberty, as soon as she starts growing tits and having her period, the programming kicks in.” 

Kevin’s face flushes with heat.

“And your mom? Reason she’s always pissed at your dad is because he failed to provide and protect. Yeah he tried, sure, but it never happened. And happening is all that matters when you are a lady with a big baby belly and a saber toothed tiger is loitering around the village. Know what I mean?”

Kevin’s stomach turns. 

He nods. 

“And here’s the thing my friend. Here’s what makes it worse. You watch your mom get bitchy with your dad. Some little part of you hates her for it. You see how sad it makes him. You see how weak and powerless he is now, and you resent her for being such a bitch.”

Kevin’s head starts to tingle. 

He nods, but more slightly.

“And here’s the tricky part, my bro. You bring the worst habits of your dad and your resentments about your mom to the table when you are dating. You see what I’m talking about? And it’s not just you. It’s all those jerk offs in the chat room. You guys all have some secret hatred of women even though you tell yourselves you are trying to fuck ‘em and maybe fall in love with ‘em some day.” 

Kevin’s ears start to ring. 

“And women are smart. They can smell that shit a mile away. This is why you see women falling for guys that don’t make any sense to you. If you are gonna get the pussy, you can’t be a pussy.” 

Like that jackass at the convenience store. Like that fucking idiot on Instagram. 

Kevin’s other browser tabs ridicule him. “Ladyboyz” “Victoria’s Secret” “Reddit.com/r/chixwithdix”. 

Kevin gets queasy. 

“Those guys can protect. And women can tell in half a second if you are gonna protect her or not. Panties stay dry, or get wet, depending on that one thing, my bro.” 

 A sharp headache takes over his skull. 

“Okay” Kevin loosely mumbles. 

“Here are the three Pillars Of Pussy, my friend. You ready for this?” 

“Yeah” 

“Get ready to write this shit down. This will change your life”

“Okay”

“Gains, Gold, and Guns.” 

Master Dan pauses dramatically… and then some.

“That’s it.  Women say they want the Six 6’s, but what they really want are the 3 G’s. Get those three G’s, and she’ll show you to her G-spot. Get those gains in the gym. If you aren’t on my creatine powder yet, get on it bro. You told me you have a solid crypto game going right now. Solid. Stay on it. And Guns, bro. Guns. Chicks love a guy who has skills with the forces of life and death.  Makes them feel safe. A real man knows how to handle shit when it goes sideways.” 

“Okay.” Kevin mutters. 

“Okay We only have 2 minutes left. Here’s what I want you to do, bro. Start preparing yourself to join The War Room. This is my elite assembly of men who are masters of the 3 G’s. The whole purpose of Basic Training at $69.99 / month is to prepare you to ascend into the masculine heights of provision and protection. Every guy in there smells like plane tickets, pussy, and gun powder.  It’s $399 / month and it will change your fuckin’ life Kevin DuPont.   Fuck man, I’m even gonna give you your War Room handle. You know what a handle is, Kevin?”

“Uhmm. I think…”

“It’s a nick name that fellow warriors give each other Like fuckin’ Maverick in Top Gun.  We will call you… hmm…. Not “teflon”. Nah. We already got a guy we call Teflon Tom. Fuckin’ bad ass…  Let’s see… the DuPont corporation invented Nylon, too, didn’t they?”

Kevin stares blankly at the screen. 

“Heh. We couldn’t do half our manly shit without it. Tents, rain gear, parachutes… bad ass.”

Master Dan congratulates himself on his outstanding memory of the textile industry. 

“Nylon. Yep. We are just gonna call you Nylon. Think of it as a tribute to your family.”

Fucking nylons. 

Kevin throws up in his mouth a little

“Okay Nylon, my bro, gotta go. Stephanie is needing me to fuck her. Keep up the good work bro. I just dropped a payment link in our chat so you can get ready for the War Room. Okay, bye.”

The chat screen goes black.