Regular guy ltn
Iron
- Joined
- Apr 2, 2025
- Posts
- 169
- Reputation
- 136
Genuinely got blackpilled at 16. She was my best friend for 8 years. I realized I liked her when I was 12 — back when things still felt pure and real. It started slow. Just little moments. The way she laughed, the way she looked at me when we’d joke around, the comfort I felt around her. I thought it meant something. I thought maybe one day it would turn into something more.But I was always just the safe guy. The “you’re like a brother” guy. The one she trauma dumped on when Chad ghosted her. The one who picked up the pieces after every failed situationship. I was the late-night phone call, the backup, the emotional crutch. She’d constantly talk about other guys — how hot they were, how bad she wanted them. She’d show me TikToks and be like “he’s so fine,” then laugh and say, “not you though haha.” And I’d laugh too. Like a fucking idiot. Even though it stung every single time.The worst part? One time she straight-up joked, *“I hope you never confess to me.”* Smiled after like it was just some funny throwaway line. But I felt it like a gut punch. Like she *knew*. Like she saw it all along and just wanted to kill the hope before it even had a chance.But I stayed. Year after year. Thinking if I was just patient enough, loyal enough, different enough — maybe she’d realize. Maybe she’d wake up one day and actually see me. Not just look *through* me.
Then when she was “single and ready for something serious,” when she was talking about how she wanted a guy who actually cared, I thought maybe… just maybe… this was it. So I confessed. Told her how I’d felt since we were kids. Told her everything. And all I got was that soft rejection. The pity tone. “Aww, but I don’t see you that way.” Said I was “too good of a friend.” “Wouldn’t wanna ruin what we have.” The usual. The classic lines they use when they want to let you down easy but still keep you around just in case.That’s when the illusion finally shattered. That’s when it hit me. I was never in the running. It didn’t matter that I was always there. Didn’t matter that I knew her better than anyone. If you’re not tall enough, not attractive enough, not *him* — you’ll never be seen that way. You’ll just be the guy she vents to about the ones she actually wants.
But honestly, the blackpill started even earlier. I was 15, dating a girl who I thought was different. Thought I finally had someone. But she constantly compared me to celebrities — guys I could never look like in a thousand lifetimes. She’d say shit like “why can’t you dress like this?” or “ugh he’s SO hot, I’d let him ruin me.” And I’d just laugh and say “haha no celebrity crushes aren’t weird” like a clown, trying to act unbothered. But every comment chipped away at me.
Even on dates, she’d be staring at other guys. Like I wasn’t even there. Like I was just a placeholder until something better walked by. And the worst part? I knew it. Deep down I knew. But I stayed, hoping maybe it’d change.It didn’t. I lost all my confidence. My sense of worth. That relationship didn’t just end — it scarred me. It taught me that no matter how much you give, no matter how loyal you are, if you don’t meet the look, the height, the frame — you’ll never be wanted. You’ll just be tolerated.Now I look back and I laugh. Not because I’m over it — but because it was never real. None of it was. I never had a chance. I wasn’t rejected at the finish line — I was never even in the race. That’s the real blackpill.If you’re not 6’0+, good face, good frame, money or status — you’re just the emotional support guy until someone better shows up. Then you’re gone. Forgotten. Replaced.It didn’t end. It never started.
Then when she was “single and ready for something serious,” when she was talking about how she wanted a guy who actually cared, I thought maybe… just maybe… this was it. So I confessed. Told her how I’d felt since we were kids. Told her everything. And all I got was that soft rejection. The pity tone. “Aww, but I don’t see you that way.” Said I was “too good of a friend.” “Wouldn’t wanna ruin what we have.” The usual. The classic lines they use when they want to let you down easy but still keep you around just in case.That’s when the illusion finally shattered. That’s when it hit me. I was never in the running. It didn’t matter that I was always there. Didn’t matter that I knew her better than anyone. If you’re not tall enough, not attractive enough, not *him* — you’ll never be seen that way. You’ll just be the guy she vents to about the ones she actually wants.
But honestly, the blackpill started even earlier. I was 15, dating a girl who I thought was different. Thought I finally had someone. But she constantly compared me to celebrities — guys I could never look like in a thousand lifetimes. She’d say shit like “why can’t you dress like this?” or “ugh he’s SO hot, I’d let him ruin me.” And I’d just laugh and say “haha no celebrity crushes aren’t weird” like a clown, trying to act unbothered. But every comment chipped away at me.
Even on dates, she’d be staring at other guys. Like I wasn’t even there. Like I was just a placeholder until something better walked by. And the worst part? I knew it. Deep down I knew. But I stayed, hoping maybe it’d change.It didn’t. I lost all my confidence. My sense of worth. That relationship didn’t just end — it scarred me. It taught me that no matter how much you give, no matter how loyal you are, if you don’t meet the look, the height, the frame — you’ll never be wanted. You’ll just be tolerated.Now I look back and I laugh. Not because I’m over it — but because it was never real. None of it was. I never had a chance. I wasn’t rejected at the finish line — I was never even in the race. That’s the real blackpill.If you’re not 6’0+, good face, good frame, money or status — you’re just the emotional support guy until someone better shows up. Then you’re gone. Forgotten. Replaced.It didn’t end. It never started.
