Oh, what’s this? I’m treated like a normal person now? My perennial difficulties with socializing have almost disappeared? Yes, it’s true! After a lifetime of trying! The secret? I look almost as good as a fashion model. That’s the secret.
Yes, I am more confident after my vacation to Europe where I roamed over thirty countries in ninety days solo, my first-ever trip overseas (talk about going into the deep end…), and especially after two dates with a high-end girlfriend-experience escort, where I lost my virginity and had my first…pretty much everything with a woman. But I suspect that it’s primarily how I look that’s driving the new reaction to my presence and my attempts to reach out and interact with people.
Field Report: a Week back Home
After all, although I am much more apt to do these things now than I was four months ago, I’ve had plenty of times where I looked a pretty girl appreciatively in the eye, brushed her lovely body a bit while dancing, and talked to her boldly and flirtatiously, yet never before has the reaction in every single case been a beaming smile that telegraphed “oh, what fun!”. Rather, I usually got a vibe ranging from “meh” to “how dare you; who do you think you are?”.
The dressing-down was even more pronounced when I socialized. I notice how that when I reach out and talk to someone they respond and *gasp* actually engage with what I have to say to them. They put in effort. They actually like talking to me. When I look at them from a distance and make an expression, they look back and linger; sometimes they even reciprocate. When I lead a cheer, the vibe is like I’m an equal to them instead of (as it was earlier) being an annoying nuisance who should know my place and keep quiet. And, most notably, one time when I clapped at an announcement the other people then all started clapping too.
Never experienced any of that before, despite so much trying and so much practicing at social gatherings. God-knows-how-many attempts at engagement, and what ends up working for me? Improving my looks.
Beautiful Me is the only Me?
True, my looks have been improving in recent years, but in the past four months in particular I’ve underwent a glow-up; my hair has grown out more and been treated better to give me shiny luscious waves, my face and body are better groomed, and courtesy of some good stuff I got in Amsterdam I’ve leveled up my skin care. That’s on top of a generous dose of dermal filler and PRF, not to mention porcelain veneers, which I got earlier this year before I left. My weight loss program is much further along as well; I seem to store fat first in my midsection and neck (!), so I’ve got a long way to go still before achieving the flat tummy of my dreams and getting a tight aesthetic neck (a Jabba-esque bulge of fat when I move my head a certain way, even if slight, is the opposite of sexy), but my look is noticeably more slender, including in the face. That helps to bring out my gorgeous base features, as does the lighter hair color I’ve acquired courtesy of all that sunshine; the fresh air and European vacation diet have helped me look more healthy and wholesome too.
The net effect is that I need only minimal processing to literally look as gorgeous as the influencers of TikTok and Instagram; considering that they themselves make use of the same technology, I would say I’m almost at that level: fashion-model tier pretty.
Apparently in my case to be treated like a normal person I need to look like a fashion model.
It’s odd, since as the cliché goes plenty of average and even ugly people do well socially; certainly all the other people I see who are engaged with and treated like a normal person, who don’t have the difficulties with socializing and connecting with people in a positive way that I’ve always had, don’t look like fashion models. Few of them are even attractive! So it does smack of a double standard. That should bug me…but at this point it just doesn’t.
I’m a neurotypical person with objectively good social skills, and rewind to four months (or, heck, even four years) ago and I looked considerably better than most people. Even at my fattest and least-kempt I was above average (I got compliments regularly; apparently most men basically never get any). True, my Myers-Briggs type indicator is INTJ (among the rarest types) and I have a genius-level IQ (also rare), so I might not be expected to be highly compatible with just anyone, but even the most basic social tasks were like wading through tar.
There’s something about my personality — or, perhaps better put, my vibe — that inspires people to feel like I’m worthless and don’t deserve anything, not even the courtesies that average people can take for granted, such as not just being point-blank ignored when you talk to someone in simple English words in a plain speaking voice (this happens to me a lot) or being totally left out of 99% of conversations people have while they’re all standing right in front of you (that happens to me a lot too…).
From customer service to friendship, up to and including interactions with my own family (when I still had one), often the only way I get any help, even to the most minimal degree of human decency that just anyone could expect, is by badgering them into compliance; threats and yelling sometimes have to be involved. Oh, they all claim to like me or even love me, but they just never treat me the way a person would if they actually liked or loved me. How do I know this? Because I see how all of them treat the people and the projects they do care about, and without exception it’s much better than how they ever behave toward me or anything they do for me. Whenever I call them out on it they don’t profusely apologize or ever try to do better; no, they roll their eyes and act like they’re annoyed, as if the pitifully low effort they do put in for me is just too much for me to expect, as if it’s some kind of a favor I should be grateful for.
In other words, I’m the man who’s never really good enough.
I say all this not to whine but to outline the issues I’ve faced all my life…issues which seem on the brink of disappearing now that I’ve passed some kind of threshold, a threshold that seems to be entirely determined by physical appearance. A huge win for the black pill, in other words; I suspected the doctrine of looksmaxing was all true, and I know about “the halo effect”, but it’s one thing to read about online and another thing completely to actually experience it for yourself.
In my case the halo effect from physical beauty, and whatever you call the opposite, seems to be particularly strong. Some people report that when they max out their looks others don’t really treat them all that differently, but I suspect that they were socially privileged to begin with; in other words, their personality, their vibe never really needed the boost from the halo effect to be treated well (or even averagely). Whatever the reason, it seems I really need that effect working for me to get anywhere in social interaction.
I’m sure the issue is my “personality”; perhaps it’s something that could, at least in principle, be fixed, and I could become one of those blessed people who can be treated well and included in the group even if I look average. But after thirty years of suffering I can’t for the life of me figure out what it is! Nobody else can either! The only answers I get amount to gratuitous insults, attempts to bully me for literally no reason or provocation; needless to say, not very helpful.
However, it seems I have found a “cheat code”, hiding in plain sight: instead of figuring out a hopeless puzzle, just sidestep the whole issue with my vibe by cultivating another quality that offsets it. Namely, physical beauty.
The ultimate Life Hack?
Famously (infamously?), the selfsame traits that people find annoying when you’re uglier become cute or endearing when you’re prettier; people are more patient with you, more willing to help you, and more eager to give you a chance. It’s pretty much all subconscious, and I’ve noticed this in the compare-and-contrast; as an experiment I’ve been going to the same social dances, the same parties, and the same venues I frequented before I left the United States four months ago, which is how I noticed this phenomenon in the first place.
It’s all subconscious, because if you’re pretty just looking at your face makes people happy; it makes them like your presence, like being around you, and those warm positive feelings (“the halo effect”) multiply throughout your life. People are nice and kind to you, and want to give you a leg up in the world you live in, because baby you deserve it. Anecdotally even good friends who don’t even care much about others’ appearance when choosing who to befriend or help treat people noticeably better on days when they look more physically attractive; it’s just human nature.
The self-confidence from looking in the mirror and loving your reflection goes a long way as well, and in my case I’m actually a materialistic person who loves beautiful things and beautiful people (and has very picky taste…), so I can only presume the change in my personality as a direct result of looking better is particularly stark compared to most people who physically glow up. At least it seems to be that way.
Make me Happy: tell me I’m Pretty
The biggest upshot of my experience this week? It would seem that my greatest asset is…my appearance. Huh. I’ve always been brainy and wanted to be respected based on my substance, but it seems as far as getting anywhere in life goes my real talent is looking pretty.
I love the performing arts and do ooze theatrical talent when I decide to turn it on (I often act and pose a little bit just for fun when I’m by myself), which perhaps should have been more of a clue than it has been. Additionally, my mother always told me that I’d make a great model (and a great escort; yes, really); I chalked it up to it being one of the usual out-of-touch parental compliments that nobody else would ever agree with (nobody else told me out of the blue that I should model…), but I’m now starting to think she might have been onto something…
I’m 30, so not exactly prime age for modeling, and I’ve never been the sort of height or body type that would be in the most demand at the highest levels of the field, but other people have done it. There are even anecdotes of people who took the black pill, made a study of looksmaxing, and actually took enough of a level in beauty to make it as a professional model, or at least another career where you essentially make money off your looks. Maybe I should pursue such a path myself?
It certainly seems to provide a much higher return on investment than anything else I’ve tried, and the goals I have in life demand I make a lot of money; just scraping by won’t cut it. No matter if I pursue a path traditionally considered to rely on looks or not, I need every trait I’ve got that could work for me to be working for me, and if my best quality is my appearance then that means I’ll sink everything I can into being as gorgeous as possible.
After all, not only will it benefit me directly, but it will even improve that puzzlingly “bad” personality of mine. When you’re treated better by other people you’re able to have a more fun time, and the happier you are the more other people will want to be around you and be helpless against the prospect of adoring you; your vibe will become magnetic.
The tanner, blonder, and thinner I get, the more fun I become, which makes me able to get even tanner, even blonder, and even thinner, until I become perfect: the embodiment of California sunshine, head to toe, body and soul.
In my case it’s especially critical, because I’m moody, quite easily frustrated and very easily disappointed, to the point it ruins my entire day if something doesn’t go right. When you’re pretty, you see, people will be much more motivated to make sure you’re not disappointed, and even if you do end up that way they’ll be much more understanding of and empathetic to your reaction, instead of acting indignant as if you have no right to feel bad or expect anything. Instead of the rage and anger old me felt, new me will feel warmth and comfort, because I can expect other people will treat me like I’m worth something! Maybe even worth a lot!
We’re so often told that we need to “work on ourselves” first before expecting to get dates or even friends, to “improve our personalities” and not to expect our looks to determine our fates. But the truth is, it’s often easier to just improve your appearance. Beautiful people tend to have better “personalities”, even if you subtract the intoxication of the halo effect, but how much of that is because they have been treated well from birth and molded at every turn by the society they live in to be the best human being they can be? Good looks cause good personalities and good vibes.
Perhaps that’s the black pill, but it’s a white pill in my case, in as much as I’m blessed with beautiful base features; I just need a bit of work and some help to enjoy “pretty privilege” at a rather high level.
The Black Pill shines brighter than you think…
Having seen the results of leaning in and putting my nose to the grindstone (not to mention thinning my wallet…) in the pursuit of beauty, my only regret is not starting a lot earlier; in particular I regret that my family, who knew nothing about such things, did nothing to maintain the good looks I enjoyed as a child into adulthood. I was neglected to the point I’m now a real fixer-upper; my own children (who will, I assure you, all be gorgeous) won’t suffer the same fate.
The one good thing my mother did was marry a man who had handsome features (not to mention a lot of brainpower); if it wasn’t for that I’d be finished, considering the difficulties I have when I’m well short of even model-level pretty (having never been anywhere near ugly even in my worst years, I’m not sure if I even want to know how bad I’d have it in that counterfactual…).
Frankly most of the rest of you don’t have the DNA to make it like I do, which does consign you to a sad fate to one degree or another. We call this awakening to the power of looks “swallowing the black pill”, but if you ask me the real black pill is this whole idea promoted by society at every turn that “looks don’t matter” and you need to “work on your personality”.
That might sound odd, but think about it this way: is it easier to improve your appearance, or just change your whole personality from the ground up? For men especially the key to drastically improving appearance might just be hopping on a regimen of anabolic steroids and lifting heavy weights a few times a week. Cheap, simple, and supremely effective over a relatively short time. There’s no easy fix like that for a man’s personality or vibe. Ironically the closest thing there is to one is…just improving your physical appearance!
I use the simplest possible example here, in as much as men have what might as well be a magic elixir of all-in-one self-improvement available to them; especially for women it gets very complicated and multifaceted very fast. But it’s nowhere near as hard a lever to work as personality and vibe is, yet ironically society talks like your appearance is less mutable than who you are on the inside. Perhaps it’s ignorance of the power of modern biotechnology and technique, or a sociological structure of oppression that tries to keep people born into the “wrong” backgrounds in their place so they can’t get ahead in life. Such toxic norms abound, but for the enlightened they’re so easy to resist you won’t even know they’re there; you just need to be shown, one way or another, what’s possible. As I have been.
For me, now? Time to be pretty. Time to enjoy life. Time to have fun…
Join me, and be happy.