Red Pill Vignette – The Colombiana

The Colombian

I had known the Colombian through my ex. She was a flirty, fun girl who had been in an abusive relationship with a Persian for many years until they eventually split. Abusive in the sense that he loved hard, dominant sex and loved to fuck her in the arse.

The Colombian and I went on a date to test the untapped sexual tension between us. At the time I thought things would just magically come together and I never escalated – a mixture of not knowing whether I really wanted her.

She soon moved on, we remained friends, and one night she invited me out to a salsa night at one of the large bars in Sydney.

Wednesday Nights

She had invited some friends – a consular worker from Costa Rica and another South American girl.

The thing I liked about the Colombian was that we would talk Spanish and it was the equivalent of banter in English – something I would normally experience with an Australian or an Irish girl. Foreigners did banter, too.

We entered the bar and scanned the room, looking for a place to eyegawk the crowd. The usual suspects of the salsa scene were there – nasty looking Latinas, blow-in businessmen from the area, try hard Asian guys who learnt to dance REALLY well.

The Colombian went pale and she confided in her girlfriends that we had to go now. Men are usually excluded from these kinds of feminine crises and this was no exception. The Colombian was adept at dramatising a situation for full effect.

We ducked out and made our way to a German bar nearby to have a drink.


“Colombiana – what was that drama about?” I chided her.

“Well, I’m waiting for a new guy and I can’t be seen there. So we decided to move here,” she replied palely.

Her drama had the edge of something strange and I probed about the guy.

“He is someone I met recently. Real nice guy. He’s coming to meet us right now”.

The guy – let’s call him the Nephew – turned up and he seemed … nice.

He was a pleasant guy in a sweater, very affectionate towards her … and chodey. (So was I at the time so who’s judging?)

Knowing the Colombian, she was sizing him up for boyfriend material in the vain hope she could eventually get married and have kids and perhaps even stay in the country.

I asked the Costa Rican about the Colombian’s look of horror at the bar. She seemed quite open about it for a diplomat.

“She hooked up with his uncle. He was there at the bar and we had to make an escape”.


The Colombian soon disappeared from the scene – she was one of those girls who would enter a relationship and not be seen for months or years only to resurface when things were bad or had ended.

That Christmas, I had gone with friends to a winery area outside of Sydney where we stayed at the airfield where a pilot friend had a propellor plane. The Colombian and the Nephew had – coincidentally – stayed in the area and were umming and ahhing about visiting us.

Why? The Colombian was screening us about her “secret” because all of us knew about the Uncle.

They eventually turned up and stayed for morning tea. It was an awkward, fawning affair as she lavished affection on him while he sat proudly in his chair. There was a touch of conservatism about him – and his chodeyness had not dissipated.

Random Texts

Some six months later, I got a random text from the Colombian asking how I was and whether she could call me. I sensed that it was over between them.

She called and we talked a bit. In her usual dramatic flair, she told me that in the ensuing months they had decided to live together, purchase a house and planned to get married.

So what had happened?

“I told him about the uncle. I don’t know why I did. I was just scared that he would find out directly and so I told him”, she said tearily.

She had tried to head the uncle off at the pass.

“Yeah, so what’s the big deal?” I asked innocently.

“Well, I told him about the uncle and he thought he could deal with it – but he couldn’t. He just told me he kept on imagining the two of us together and couldn’t get the image out of his head.”

“What happened with the uncle?” I continued.

“It was nothing, nothing happened. We just met and had a good time. He’s just the usual Latin guy. Nothing happened. A bit of a creep.”

She ruminated on these “nada pasó” words a number of times. Her face filled with disgust as she described him to me. I couldn’t cut through the BS so just speared her with an assumption.

“So you fucked the Uncle and then you told the Nephew about it? Good move”.

She had this cat’s bum look about her when I got to the truth.

Red Pill Coaching for Women

By that time I was fully immersed in Red Pill theory and I thought I’d give it a shot to try and coach her into making the right decision as a woman. I liked the girl and I did not want her trapped with a chodey Beta.

It wasn’t the first time she had fucked someone I knew. She had fucked a friend of the pilot’s at the pilot’s house after a night out – and yet “HE has issues as he texts ten girls at once on Tinder looking for a hookup”. Lovely projection coming from her.

“Colombiana – let me tell you – he will never get rid of that image from his head of you fucking the Uncle. He will use it against you for the rest of your relationship and you’ll be shamed for it every time. Guys like that don’t understand women are just as human as guys.”

Imagine you are this Blue Pill Nephew. You’ve met a girl, felt attraction for her, and eventually slept with her. Affection and love follows. You assess her as a prospect for a long term relationship and then – WHAM! She tells you about hooking up with the Uncle.

The thing about sex is – what did the Uncle do to her? Did he fuck her in a bathroom? Cum on her face? Fuck her up the arse? Was it quick, dirty sex? Did he facefuck her? (Perhaps he was reading

It’s the Male Hamster Wheel in action. Did he taint my Pure Chaste Woman?

Soon she started asking for my help to find a place to live and start a new life. I found a spot for her … but then suddenly she told me she was “giving it (the relationship) a go”.

Facebook Update

Yesterday I saw some lovely glossy photos of their wedding – the Nephew and the Colombiana. It was a match made in heaven.

I wonder whether the Uncle gave a speech.

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