Like recognizes like

77 miles from Ft Bragg, I walked into a bike shop to kill time while waiting for my girl’s lunch break to start. As I walk in the door someone says “were you on a team?”. I tell him “something like. Behind the fence”. Question asked in informal code, response and counter challenge offered. Turns out the guy retired out of the 2nd Recon in 2006 when all the restructuring was going down, moved back to middle of know where North Carolina and opened a bike shop with his father. Also a USMC retire.

The guy is a real motorcycle enthusiasts. Man you could tell he loved bikes of all sorts, and tactically agreed that Yamaha was probably making the best production bikes for the money right now.   Having to admit that really hurts us Harley guys. Deep down. Any rate he got to telling me about carburetors, and I learned a lot from him.  I made the decision to bring my Fat Boy to him when I get back to have my carbs rebuilt. Because of his enthusiasm as much as his expertise.

When I 1st joined the army, seemed like every wrestler in the 1st Ranger Batt knew I was a wrestler. Wrestling gives you a particular build. Not sure most folks see the difference but when you spend a lot of time on the mat you learn to recognize things like the rolled shoulders and usual upper-back development. Not sure why SpecOps guys are so good at picking each other out of a crowd. I rarely display my tatts in public and this kind of thing is not a rare occurrence. I reckon it just is what it is.

When I walk into a gym for the 1st time, other power-lifters know I am one of them. They know and comment/ invite me to train before I pull any suits, belts or wraps out of my gym bag. We’re easy to spot when you know what to look for. Big without being pretty or cut, all triceps, upper back and posterior chain. Most of us seem to prefer crew cuts, beards and tattoos. My ex-wife use to say that was my second uniform.

When I moved here, an OG use to give me the stink eye. Nothing to confrontational but for sure putting me on notice. Long story short, he has done some hard time over the years and I have more than a few White Identity tatts. He was right to check me out. Crazy ass-cracker moving into his hood and all. We have since come to a pretty good understanding, but like recognizes like in the realm of primal masculinity.

My question to you is, what kind of man sums you up and recognizes himself in you?




13 thoughts on “Like recognizes like

  1. BuenaVista

    I lack alpha dominance of the order Ton describes, in any way. Still I am a lifelong student of difficult things. I pursue them in the hopes of mastery; I suffer my studies, making them real (I hope). I learned early to affect a studied indifference, a nonchalance, an ‘I don’t really give a flying fuck” aspect, which feeds the imagination of so many people. So, an odd pattern of recognition has emerged over the years.

    If I am in the mountains in my bibs or knickers, and drinking beer and listening to a band, the locals walk up and say, “You’re a climber, aren’t you.”

    If I am suited and at the software conference, peers and support cohorts (bankers, consultants) walk up and say, “Which company do you run and what does it do?”

    When I was spending my weekends in NYC and dating a Hollywood dame, who is well known, we’d attend the Knicks games, court-side. The other season ticket holders would say, “I know you’re somebody, I can’t put my finger on it, who are you” in the sense that I possessed what she had, which was celebrity currency. (I learned to reply, “I’m an EPC, extremely private citizen” which just fed their hamsters, but was more self-respecting than saying “I’m nobody” which I blurted out once while leaving dinner with Redford.)

    When I land my little plane for fuel or just to park and hop on an airliner: “Who do you really fly for?”

    After 9/11, and a career producing scary analytics, a quiet man took me and my partner to lunch, and said, “We’ve heard you can solve a problem that needs solving.”

    This all reached a breaking point. It became unclear if I was a man with a Name, or just a cipher whose legacy was a fluent anonymity.

    I had developed a reputation for fluency and smarts in DC; I was approached to be a NOC (offers that remain, and re-emerge from time to time). For me this was a turning point, one exaggerated by a toxic divorce and the realization that my presumed, patriarchal role as family progenitor would never, in fact, happen. Literally, I would never have a family, not as I defined the term. I realized that “fluency” could in the end define a lifetime of pleasant, dilettantish, challenging diversions. I began throwing everything over the side that did not conform to the attributes of the legacy that I truly wish for myself, and for my children who have never been permitted to live with me as I expected.

    I live now, mostly, in rural obscurity. I killed that former self. My great-grandfather started the first creamery and cannery here, my home is two blocks where my grandfather lived for 60 years, walking the six blocks to the little bank downtown. Sure, I still have my custom suits, my club and night-circuit in Manhattan, the small hotel I’ve frequented in the Collegiate range of Colorado, evenings with my DC honcho friends over rye and rib eyes. But my best friend is a high school grad, 15 years my senior, who paints barns. We discuss the his Bible and various life events: his M-60 in An Khe district, the times our wives have left and returned and left and returned, what makes a good truck. How to build the right jig to ensure the masonry deck is flat the first time, and we needn’t resort to the brick saw to make things fit. I sold the 911 and drive a diesel. I want only to be recognized for a few things, and likely, here, few will understand. Fluency reached its zenith ten years ago, and I want only a few thousand people to understand what I am truly master of, while my children (who think I’ve lost my mind and a selfish obscurity) witness a few benefits of solitary achievement. I’ll admit, there are 3 a.m. moments where I wonder if I have lost my mind.

    But in the end we all return to our farms and cultivate our own gardens, rather than the gardens of the imagination of the general populace. There’s no one applauding when we’re awake at 3 a.m., so it doesn’t matter if they know us or do not know us. I certainly agree with Ton that in all endeavors, that understatement — if not enlightened detachment — is the true currency of accomplishment. Those who know, will know. I hope.

    1. sfcton Post author

      BV you sell your alpha cred short my friend. Your accompaniments are less overt/ less physical then mine and therefore more subtle. Folks think they are clever, subtle etc but rarely are. Most especially women

      I have noticed a similar trend. If you have that air about you, folks will think you are accomplished in the same way you are. I once sat next to a man who was a big, big name in the international shipping world. We had a blast but he told me he knew I was an american SpecOps vet because I reminded him of his friends. It’s something real though intangible and crosses international borders, race etc etc.

      Good to have you here

  2. Sumo

    Not nearly as interesting/appropriate as BV’s anecdote,but a couple of years ago I decided to try my hand (pardon the pun) at fencing, as I was looking for something new to occupy my free time. Went to the first class, listened intently to the instructions, and found myself partnered up with one of the instructors. We exchanged a few words of greeting/personal history/reasons why I was in the class, and I informed him that I was a complete novice.

    Salutes were exchanged, sabers were lifted, and almost immediately, the instructor dropped his saber and began bitching me out, telling me that I had no business in that class, as it was specifically for beginners. I assured him that I had never fenced a day in my life, and I absolutely belonged in the “beginner” class. The instructor was adamant that he could tell that I “knew” what I was doing, and tried to eject me from the class.

    After a moment of genuine confusion, I realized what what happening, and mentioned that I had a fairly significant background in martial arts. The instructor and I shared a laugh about the similarities between fencing and martial arts, and he apologized for doubting my word.

    Then he poked me full of holes, figuratively speaking.

    He also declined my offer to show him a few things without a sword in his hand.

    1. sfcton Post author

      Well BV has a talent with words

      Excellent example Sumo. Goes to show how this is not a rare event.

      I took a short term interest in fencing. The saber of course. Got the strong impression without the various rules the instructor would get real hurt, real fast so I can imagine how quickly he declined your invite

  3. dcllcd

    Hi SfcTon.

    I made my way over here through a link from j4g. The article was about “How Men Should Court Women”.

    I pretty much just read yours, Rollo’s and BV’s exchanges. Some very insightful stuff for a young-new-red-pill’r like myself.

    In this post here, when you mentioned how wrestlers can recognized wrestlers, I certainly know what you mean. I wrestled for six years when I was younger (nice to hear of fellow wrestlers from within the manosphere – reminded me of this post I wrote not too long ago –

    Even though, these days, I do not look like your typical wrestler (pretty much the same size as I was in those pics), I can spot one from a mile away. It is how we carry ourselves. Calm but ready -for-anything kind of manner. Like we could always be ready to drop into a stance or a sprawl when the shit hits the fan!

    Anyways, I like your blog. Consider it followed. -d

    1. BuenaVista

      One of the evenings’ entertainments in Iowa City, back when Gable was still the HC, was watching/reading about the wrestlers who beat the shit out of the football players. And I’m not talking about heavyweights going after heavyweights. 158-pound wrestlers can be the scariest men in the room, and often are.

      These days the IC cops don’t let the young men blow off steam, preferring to arrest them. Another sign of the pending apocalypse.

      1. sfcton Post author

        LOL behold the benefit of specialization

        I wrestled 167,and was best friends with the 158 and 147 pound guy’s. We were also the linebacker core for our high school football team. Our team won states two out of four years, went all 4 years, our defensive coach is now a linebacker coach in th pros and our head coach is an athletic director for a D1 college. My wrestling coach is in the hall of fame. Our 147 pounder went to the Olympics and our 176 was on track at the tryouts when his brother died. So yea… wrestlers are generally the best athletes around.

  4. theasdgamer

    I wrestled in gym class and did pretty well against other boys (105#) long ago. Middle-of-the-pack one-miler. Decent swimmer. My lack of athleticism was a developmental thing related to autism. I started getting pretty athletic when I hit 35 and was playing soccer. My soccer tactics are a level higher than the club coaches from Britain. Skills were good, but I’m out of practice. Soccer is very dangerous to play anymore because of fouls and because I don’t heal like I used to.

    If you need someone to give pointers on training for soccer, give me a shout.

    I get recognition from PUAs, dancers, IT folks, soccer guys, philosophers, carousel-riders who think I’m a PUA (I’m retired)–lol, hikers, fellow gun nuts, and, strangely, fighter pilots and cops. Maybe the ways my eyes move look like a fighter pilot’s scanning for threats/targets. Idk why cops think I’m one of them. Oh, ex-military sometimes think I’m ex-military. Dad was a Marine, so maybe it’s the military brat thing.

    Any thoughts on field bikes? I could probably get Mrs. Gamer to go along with one of those. Maybe something $500-750 used.

    1. sfcton Post author

      I’m starting to think sense a set of balls is so rare, when you have one, everyone assumes its how they view having a pair.

      LOL I’ll TRY not to hold playing soccer against you…..

      1. theasdgamer

        One of my cousins’ knees was destroyed by a Turkish soccer player during a college exhibition game when he was fouled decades ago. Anymore, soccer is played like rugby. YMMV

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