Milo and the Manosphere

Jessie leaned forward and quietly righted the fallen chair. Milo caught the movement and turned his head to glare at her.

'When did you make an appointment with the doctor?' he said.

'As soon as you told me the dates of your thing.'

'So you planned this for five weeks?'

'I guess so.'

'And I suppose when I got back, you were going to have sex with me so I'd think the baby was mine?'

'I don't know. I wasn't thinking that far ahead.'

'Well, you thought far enough ahead to make a doctor's appointment!'

'Milo, I don't understand why I do what I do! All I know is that I was getting pulled around in all directions until I had no idea what was up or down! I'm a mess! I'm a fucking mess! And I'm not saying that as an excuse! I'm saying that as a fact!'

Jessie spoke with desperation and urgency, but Milo noticed that this time she was looking him in the eye. He realised, almost against his will, that he believed her. She was telling him the truth. Or, at least, she was trying to tell him the truth, to the best of her ability. Right now, Milo wasn't sure he would recognise the truth if it showed up and gave him a haircut.

'What do you want?' he said.

'I want to stop hating myself.'

'I mean, what do you want from me?'

Jessie frowned. She sat up straight and looked at Milo, no longer the weepy little girl he had carried into this room. On the contrary, Milo realised he was a little apprehensive about what she was about to say.

'When I saw you walk through those double doors,' she said, 'my heart burst with love to see you again. And, in that moment, I knew I'd done the right thing to come here. Even if you never want to see me again, I did the right thing to come here.'

Jessie got to her feet.

'Milo, if it wasn't for you, I'd probably be dead by now, one way or another. And on top of that, you gave me a home and security and a nice life. But the thing is, when you owe a man everything, you feel like you have to love him. Like it's an obligation, you know what I mean? And love doesn't work like that.'

'You still haven't answered my question.'

'I want you to be the man who walked through those double doors. This may be fucked up, but having you mad at me feels way better than that night you were drunk and apologising. You were being so pathetic, I wanted to slap you.'

'And how about if I want a divorce?'

Jessie went pale. Her eyes filled with tears, brimmed, and ran down her face. But she stood up straight and kept looking him in the eye.

'Do what you have to do,' she said. 'But I want you to know that whatever you decide, I still love you.'

***

Milo left Jessie in the break room and walked alone back across the foyer to the row of tables. The big guy and the thin guy were still there and they stood up as he approached.

'How'd it go?' said the big guy.

'I honestly don't know,' said Milo.

'We've all been there, bro,' said the thin guy.

'Listen, I got a message for you,' said the big guy.

'Yeah, from Jack Tarrant!'

'All right, calm down,' said his companion and he turned back to Milo. 'He wants you to have lunch with him in the VIP dining room.'

'Oh,' said Milo. 'Where is it?'

'I'll show you.'

The big guy took Milo back through the double doors and across the hall of stands, heading towards the main dining room. Most people were at lunch, but some of the guys in the hall noticed Milo and he overheard one man say to his mate, 'Oh, look! His wife let him stay!' Milo kept his eyes straight ahead as the big guy led him through carpeted corridors to a door with a brass plaque announcing itself as the Executive Dining Room. There was a grey-shirted guy leaning against the wall like the world's laziest sentry, his eyes on his phone. He exchanged a nod with the big guy who moved to open the door.

Milo entered a space which made him think of a billiard room in a country mansion, with panelled walls and wrought iron chandeliers. It had a real wood floor and two huge mahogany banquet tables set up in a T-shape, around which sat nearly thirty men at lunch. The tables were decked with steel trays of cold food--cheeses, hams, different kinds of bread, grapes and bananas. Harry had a seat at the place where the tables joined and he waved Milo over. The big guy said 'Good luck' and left, closing the door behind him.

As Milo sat next to Harry, he recognised a few of the faces from his drink the previous night. Gary the pickup artist gave Milo a curt glance before going back to slapping mustard inside his ham roll, but the rest of the guys were friendly enough. Jack Tarrant sat at the head of the table like a master of ceremonies and he stretched across to offer Milo a handshake.

'Thanks for coming,' said Jack.

'Thanks for inviting me,' said Milo. 'And I'm sorry I disrupted your talk.'

'Don't worry about it,' said Jack. 'To be honest, we're curious to know what happened.'

'Speak for yourself,' said Gary from a couple of seats away.

'All right, I'm curious to know what happened.'

'And me,' said Harry.

'And me,' said a couple of the others.

As Harry set a plate of food before Milo and poured him a glass of juice, Gary sourly picked up his roll and tore a chunk out of it with his teeth. Milo thanked Harry, mentally debating the wisdom of telling a bunch of strangers private things about his marriage. On the other hand, he felt flattered by everyone's interest and he wanted to hear what Jack might say on the subject.

So Milo recounted what had happened in the foyer and later in the break room. He told them something about Jessie's ex-boyfriend to give context, but he had a gut feeling that most of them already knew, thanks to Harry. Still, they kept quiet and listened, everyone keeping a neutral expression. Well, everyone except Gary. He eyerolled and shook his head and laughed to himself throughout the entire story. And when Milo got to the part where Jessie confessed to her trip to the doctor, Gary could no longer stay silent.

'Dump her,' he said with his mouth full. 'Kick her out onto the street where she belongs.'

'Okay...' said Milo.

'I'm serious, mate,' said Gary. 'When a woman says she wants another man's child, that's the end of the story. Unless you're a cuck, of course. Are you a cuck?'

'Do you mean "cuckold"?'

'I mean, a fucking traitor to his own manhood! A man who shouldn't even be sitting at the same table as real men! I mean, a fucking pathetic excuse masquerading as a man, taking up valuable space at a conference meant for guys who actually want to improve themselves, not simps bewitched by a woman's pussy! Or do you actually have some balls in your trousers?'

Milo stared at Gary, shaken by this attack. He also noticed that no-one, not even Harry, was saying anything.

'Look,' said Milo. 'She hasn't actually done anything yet.'

'Doesn't matter,' said Gary.

'What do you mean, it doesn't matter?!'

'She has already expressed her hypergamous preference. So even if you have a baby with her now, you're still her second choice.'

'Yeah, but... that was always the case.'

'I know, but now she's confessed it.'

'No, I mean even at the beginning,' said Milo. 'Look, if her boyfriend hadn't fucked up their relationship, she'd still be with him!'

'That's not the same thing.'

'How is it not the same thing? I mean, unless you marry an actual virgin, all women are going to have some love story in their past that didn't work out. Are all the men who end up with those women "cucks"?'

'Two things,' said Gary, leaning on the table. 'First, those men didn't marry a stripper. Second, if a man is a Man in a relationship, his woman doesn't even want another man's baby!'

Milo stared at the guy with the spiky black hair and tattooed arms, his stomach twisted in knots. All the other men were quiet, watching the exchange with interest, even enjoyment. He wondered how many of them silently agreed with Gary. Milo took a long, deep breath and spoke in a voice of forced calm.

'So, if I understand you correctly,' he said to Gary. 'The fact that my wife had the guts to come all this way to tell me the truth to my face... I should just discount that?'

'If you're smart, yeah.'

Milo nodded coldly. He turned to Jack.

'What do you think?' he said.

Jack glanced over at Gary, who shrugged. All the others waited, chewing food or sipping drinks, waiting to hear what Jack Tarrant had to say.

'Listen, Milo,' he said. 'Your wife is acting out her biological imperative: the desire for alpha seed from her ex-boyfriend on the one hand; the desire for a reliable beta provider on the other. Now, the ideal solution would be to have a man with both those qualities, but since she's probably given up on that, she's initiated a Plan B.'

'Yeah, to cuckold you,' said Gary, pointing a finger. 'To turn you into a "cuck". And you wouldn't even have known!'

'No,' said Jack. 'I think she would have told him. In fact, subconsciously, I think she came here to get your implied consent.'

'What do you mean "implied consent"?' said Milo.

'Listen, no matter how much you beg or plead or argue with a woman, if she knows you won't divorce her even after she tells you what she's going to do, she will take that as consent. The thought process is: You must be okay with it, because I did what I did and you still stayed married to me.'

All the men looked down at their plates or at each other. Even Gary went quiet. Milo felt a deep chill in his stomach. He braced himself as Jack's blue eyes focused on him.

'The underlying problem,' said Jack, 'is that you are a man who has not claimed his manhood. Which means that you are as dependent on your wife for validation as she is on you for a roof over her head. And unlike you, she knows it.'

Milo felt sick. Sitting at that table, he felt like a prisoner brought up from the cells to amuse the gentry. He hung his head, unable to look at anyone, trying to figure out how to get the hell out of there with even a sliver of dignity. Harry's warm hand touched his shoulder and Milo nearly jumped.

'Milo...' said Harry. 'Do you remember that moment in The Matrix when Neo wakes up and realises that the entire world is a lie?'

Milo nodded miserably.

'Well, that's what this is like,' said Harry. 'And if you remember, Neo was helpless to begin with. He had to rebuild his muscles and learn how to use his eyes, and to quite literally reprogramme his mind.'

Milo sat hunched in the chair, his mind turning over and over what he had heard. Part of him hated these men, especially Gary who embodied a lot of things Milo had always despised. But he had nothing but respect for Jack Tarrant, who had cut deeper with his softly spoken words than all of Gary's blustering insults. Milo nodded and looked up at the older man.

'Okay,' said Milo. 'I see what you're saying. And you're right--that's exactly what's been going on.'

Jack nodded seriously and leaned on the table.

'Where is your wife now?' he said.

'I don't know,' said Milo. 'I left her in this room and walked out.'

'Well, if she's not out there waiting for you at the end of today, it's Game Over. You do understand that, don't you?'

'Yes.'

Jack looked at Milo for a moment.

'Okay, but let's say she is waiting for you,' said Jack. 'You're going to need a strategy.'

***

Jessie stood in the tiny room and stared at the closed door. She was in shock. She had spoken from the heart from the moment she saw Milo, trusting that so long as she did, everything would turn out all right. That's what Caroline Templeton advised in her talks, and, for a while, it felt like it was going to work. Milo had been so patient and strong when she was having her meltdown, just holding her close until she was ready to talk. None of that irritating 'Are you okay?' and 'Do you need anything?' Even when he said the dread word 'divorce', she thought they would get through it. She told him she loved him and she meant it--she meant it--and she could see that he was as moved as she was.

And then he walked out.

No word, no announcement, no 'We'll talk later'. Nothing. He just walked out, as though he'd gone into the ladies toilet by mistake. It suddenly hit Jessie that she had never expected Milo to reject her. Not really. Why would he do that? He was in love with her! She knew he was in love with her! Even now, even with everything she'd told him! And yet...

There was a quiet knock on the door. It opened and the thin guy with the baggy grey polo shirt peered in.

'Hi,' he said. 'I just, um... wanted to check that you were okay.'

Jessie stared at him.

'And, um...' he went on, '...to mention that you left your bag at registration. I put it under a table, so no-one's going to pinch it, but, um...'

'Fine,' said Jessie. 'I'll come fetch it.'

Jessie walked with the guy across the foyer to the row of tables. His manner reminded her of Milo when they first met--polite, even deferential, as though grateful to be in her company. Three years ago, it was a welcome change from Carl's casual denigration and the entitled gazes of the strip club patrons, but now it repulsed her. Plus, this same guy had been an unhelpful dick when she arrived wanting to see her husband.

The guy picked up the bag from beneath a table and handed it over. Jessie muttered thanks and was about to leave, when she was struck by a thought.

'What time does it finish here?' she said.

'Six o'clock,' said the thin guy.

'Okay.'

Jessie walked away, heading towards the giant revolving door which led to the outside. The thin guy watched her go, looking at her bottom in tight jeans with a mixture of longing and resentment.

The hotel was located on one side of a city square with a fountain in the centre. Jessie headed towards it, passing a taxi rank and crossing the road. There was a large pedestrianised area around the fountain, with paths snaking through carefully cut grass and evergreen shrubs as they led off to various parts of the city. Jessie picked a direction at random and walked, wondering what the hell she was going to do with herself until six.

'You still have time to get the train home,' said an inner voice.

Why would I do that? thought Jessie.

'To keep your appointment with Carl.'

I didn't make an appointment!

Jessie had reached a busy shopping street and she glanced around to check that she hadn't screamed that out loud. People did glance back at her--the women with sour expressions--but nothing out of the ordinary. Jessie saw a French-style café across the street and decided to have lunch. It was fairly busy, but there was a table at the back. She ordered rosehip tea and blue cheese salad, then managed to charm the waiter into putting her phone on a charger behind the counter.

Sipping her tea and waiting for her salad, Jessie pondered her situation. She did not want Milo to divorce her, she knew that for a fact. The possibility of falling back into the life she once had was like a sinkhole that had opened up before her, a bottomless pit. The thought of shagging Carl now felt more pointless than arousing, and Jessie was aghast at how manipulative her own sex drive was--feeding her imagination with memories of his cock and somehow downplaying the memories of the slaps and punches, the verbal abuse, as if those things had only happened in a movie. Jessie looked at the three letters A.W.M. tattooed on the inside of her wrist--the only tattoo she'd had done since being with Milo--and she kissed it.

Her salad arrived and it looked excellent, with crisp baby lettuce and just the right amount of blue cheese and dressing. Jessie tried it and felt her tastebuds explode in her mouth. My god, this was delicious! As Jessie ate, she vividly recalled yesterday's visit to her old neighbourhood and how shabby it all was and how great it had felt to simply walk out of there.

Jessie leaned on the table and looked around. This was an elegant café and she loved it. Did she love Milo too? Right now, she wasn't sure, but she certainly loved the life she had with him; it was way better than anything that had come before. To sit in this place and have tea and salad with blue cheese--it felt like freedom.

'Please show me how to love,' said Jessie to herself, touching her collarbone where the tattooed phrase Love is a verb lived.

'Jessie,' said an inner voice. 'Trust me.'

***

Milo had a weird afternoon. He heard a few more choice phrases from guys who recognised him from the seminar: 'Get hen-pecked much?' and 'Forgot your balls, did you?' were two oft-repeated examples. Milo ignored them as best he could and kept to himself. He went to a seminar called 'Game and Frame' given by one of the Red Pill guys sat at the lunch table. It was good too, presenting a strong case for taking the lead with confidence in interactions with women and not continually seeking their approval. Milo found it useful.

But things went south during the Q&A. One questioner asked how a man could tell whether a woman would make a good wife and the lecturer said:

'Well, Tip Number One: Don't marry a stripper! Right, Milo?'

Milo went bright red in the midst of raucous laughter, and he sat through the rest of the Q&A in humiliated silence. When it was over, a few other audience members felt compelled to share their nuggets of wisdom as they filed past.

'Dump her, mate.'

'Divorce her.'

'Those women are trash.'

Milo went up to confront the Red Pill guy, but he shrugged it off with a 'Sorry, I didn't know it was a secret.' Milo left the seminar room feeling utterly pissed off and got buttonholed by Gary in the corridor.

'Thank fuck I bumped into you!' said Gary, pulling Milo to one side. 'You'll thank me for this!'

'I will?'

'Listen, mate... Jack Tarrant is the best when it comes to articulating Red Pill theory, absolutely the best. But when it comes to the practical side of things, well... his solutions don't really work.'

Milo stared at the other guy, instantly suspicious. Gary took hold of Milo's shoulders and looked him in the eye with an expression of concerned sincerity.

'Milo,' he said. 'You deserve to be with a woman who wants your baby. The fact that your wife would even consider another man's child is a dealbreaker. There's no "strategy" that can get around that!'

'But why do I deserve it?' said Milo, shrugging off Gary's hands. 'I mean, if you're right and I'm a "pathetic excuse masquerading as a man", why would I deserve anything better?'

'Any man could do better than a stripper!'

'What about the fact that I love her?'

'Look, I know she's hot and that shagging her makes you feel like a man, but that's not love!'

'How do you know?'

Gary laughed as though the question was ridiculous. Milo glared at him.

'I'm serious, "Gary",' he said. 'I've been here two days now and I've heard a lot about how to attract a woman and seduce a woman and keep a woman's interest. But not one man has spoken for five minutes on how to love a woman. Is no-one interested in that? Or is Love itself a "Blue Pill construct" and I'm a beta-simp for even asking the question?'

Gary's face reddened slightly. Milo held his gaze, waiting for an answer. Gary pulled a face and waved his hands in the air.

'Well, I tried!' he said. 'But some guys you just can't unplug!'

Before Milo could respond, Gary walked away. Milo was annoyed and felt the urge to go after him, but then he remembered Gary's seminar and realised: this was a control technique; to say something provocative and walk away before the other person could respond. Its purpose with women was to get an emotional reaction, but it was also used to 'assert alpha dominance' over another man.