zemult
Luminary
- Joined
- Oct 10, 2024
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So my stats, I am a 6'3 Chadlite, but it doesn't really matter for what I'm about to say. At least, it didn’t seem to matter back then.
I used to be all about the Blackpill. You know, the whole incel philosophy—this idea that certain guys like me were destined to be forever stuck in the friend zone or worse, invisible to women. I spent hours online, combing through forums, reading all the “Redpilled” takes about how only the top 1% of men—those true “Chads”—were worthy of slaying. And even though I had the height, the decent jawline, the build, and some solid enough facial features, I still found myself frustrated. Why couldn’t I just get it? Why couldn’t I slay like the guys in the stories?
I remember one evening, deep in the trenches of the Blackpill, I stumbled upon a post that caught my attention. It wasn’t about looks. It wasn’t about “alpha” behaviors or how many women you could rack up. It was a simple, straightforward line: It’s all about your personality, confidence, and charisma. And I remember, for the first time in a long while, something clicked.
I’d been so obsessed with the idea that my physical appearance, despite being good enough for some guys to call me a “Chadlite,” was holding me back. But deep down, I realized that it wasn’t my looks that were keeping me out of the slaying game. It was how I carried myself, how I spoke, how I made people feel around me.
At first, I thought it was all BS. How could the magic formula not be about physical appearance? But then I started testing it. I looked at the guys who were actually slaying. Guys who, if I’m being honest, didn’t even look that great compared to me. But they had this air about them—this confidence that was contagious, and it made women gravitate toward them. It wasn’t just about what they said, it was about how they said it. The way they owned the space they occupied.
So, I decided to try something new.
Instead of focusing on how I looked in the mirror or obsessing over every little flaw, I started working on my confidence. It wasn’t easy at first. My first attempts were awkward. I’d walk into a room and feel the familiar sting of insecurity creeping up. But I kept at it. I forced myself to stand taller, to speak with more authority, to engage in conversations with strangers without constantly second-guessing myself.
Slowly but surely, I started seeing the difference. Women started noticing me. I wasn’t getting the same reactions I used to—awkward glances or polite smiles. Instead, I got real attention. And not just from women, but from everyone. People responded to me differently when I exuded that quiet confidence. I could tell it wasn’t just the looks anymore. It was the vibe.
I started slaying in ways I never thought possible—not just in terms of romantic relationships, but in general. The energy I projected changed how people perceived me. Women were drawn to me in ways I had only read about in those forums, but the funny part was, it wasn’t the “Chad” thing that made it work. It was me being comfortable in my own skin.
It was strange. This whole time, I had been trapped in this rigid ideology that told me that my looks were the most important thing, but it wasn’t true. It was the charisma, the aura, the confidence, the ability to walk into any room and feel like I belonged there, that made all the difference.
The more I embraced this new perspective, the more I realized just how much I had been wrong about everything. The Blackpill? It was a prison for the mind, a trap that kept you from realizing your full potential. I wasn’t a “Chadlite” doomed to mediocrity; I was a guy who had everything I needed to slay, not just with women, but with life itself.
Now, when I look back at the guy who spent hours online, bitter and jaded, I almost can’t recognize him. Because the guy I am now doesn’t need validation from an online echo chamber. I found the real secret—confidence isn’t something you’re born with, it’s something you build. And when you build it, you realize that you can slay not because you fit some ideal, but because you own who you are.
And trust me, once you realize that? Everything changes.
I used to be all about the Blackpill. You know, the whole incel philosophy—this idea that certain guys like me were destined to be forever stuck in the friend zone or worse, invisible to women. I spent hours online, combing through forums, reading all the “Redpilled” takes about how only the top 1% of men—those true “Chads”—were worthy of slaying. And even though I had the height, the decent jawline, the build, and some solid enough facial features, I still found myself frustrated. Why couldn’t I just get it? Why couldn’t I slay like the guys in the stories?
I remember one evening, deep in the trenches of the Blackpill, I stumbled upon a post that caught my attention. It wasn’t about looks. It wasn’t about “alpha” behaviors or how many women you could rack up. It was a simple, straightforward line: It’s all about your personality, confidence, and charisma. And I remember, for the first time in a long while, something clicked.
I’d been so obsessed with the idea that my physical appearance, despite being good enough for some guys to call me a “Chadlite,” was holding me back. But deep down, I realized that it wasn’t my looks that were keeping me out of the slaying game. It was how I carried myself, how I spoke, how I made people feel around me.
At first, I thought it was all BS. How could the magic formula not be about physical appearance? But then I started testing it. I looked at the guys who were actually slaying. Guys who, if I’m being honest, didn’t even look that great compared to me. But they had this air about them—this confidence that was contagious, and it made women gravitate toward them. It wasn’t just about what they said, it was about how they said it. The way they owned the space they occupied.
So, I decided to try something new.
Instead of focusing on how I looked in the mirror or obsessing over every little flaw, I started working on my confidence. It wasn’t easy at first. My first attempts were awkward. I’d walk into a room and feel the familiar sting of insecurity creeping up. But I kept at it. I forced myself to stand taller, to speak with more authority, to engage in conversations with strangers without constantly second-guessing myself.
Slowly but surely, I started seeing the difference. Women started noticing me. I wasn’t getting the same reactions I used to—awkward glances or polite smiles. Instead, I got real attention. And not just from women, but from everyone. People responded to me differently when I exuded that quiet confidence. I could tell it wasn’t just the looks anymore. It was the vibe.
I started slaying in ways I never thought possible—not just in terms of romantic relationships, but in general. The energy I projected changed how people perceived me. Women were drawn to me in ways I had only read about in those forums, but the funny part was, it wasn’t the “Chad” thing that made it work. It was me being comfortable in my own skin.
It was strange. This whole time, I had been trapped in this rigid ideology that told me that my looks were the most important thing, but it wasn’t true. It was the charisma, the aura, the confidence, the ability to walk into any room and feel like I belonged there, that made all the difference.
The more I embraced this new perspective, the more I realized just how much I had been wrong about everything. The Blackpill? It was a prison for the mind, a trap that kept you from realizing your full potential. I wasn’t a “Chadlite” doomed to mediocrity; I was a guy who had everything I needed to slay, not just with women, but with life itself.
Now, when I look back at the guy who spent hours online, bitter and jaded, I almost can’t recognize him. Because the guy I am now doesn’t need validation from an online echo chamber. I found the real secret—confidence isn’t something you’re born with, it’s something you build. And when you build it, you realize that you can slay not because you fit some ideal, but because you own who you are.
And trust me, once you realize that? Everything changes.
