Sitting alone in a cold, grey gym changing room, I stared at myself in the mirror. My face was gaunt, lips cracked, and I was starving and exhausted.

Worst of all, it was my 30th birthday and I felt pressured to spend it working out. Certainly no birthday cake for me.

My phone lit up with another voice note from my ‘mentor’, Gary*, telling me that winners don’t get tired. Discipline beats emotion. All the usual cliché quotes that he’d shout at me, and not a ‘happy birthday’ in sight.

It was then I realised – if this is what winning looks like, I’d rather lose. 

I discovered Gary at my lowest ebb, just 18 months earlier. I was heartbroken, skint, and feeling totally lost in my life.  

An almost seven-year relationship had ended and I was barely scraping by in my business, an entertainment company. I started drinking alcohol regularly and hitting the clubs every weekend.

Then, someone recommended Gary’s podcast to me and I started listening. I thought he was incredibly charismatic, confident, and living the life I thought I wanted. 

He claimed to have an eight-bedroom manor house, supposed six-figure monthly salary, a beautiful family, a hot wife, and a ripped body.

Frankly, he was basically a walking Andrew Tate cliche.

After I interacted with some of his posts, Gary messaged me one day on Facebook – I was following him and he could view my content – saying he could see I needed his help and to wire him £1,500 to work with me for six weeks.

I felt flattered that he’d messaged me and I believed in him, so I grabbed my credit card without hesitating.

What I didn’t realise then was that I wasn’t signing up for mentorship. I was signing up for a cult. 

Within a few weeks, I travelled from Bradford to Essex where Gary lived for my first in-person coaching session, which included working out with him.

He was qualified in NLP but as far as I was aware he had no PT qualifications.

A few months later, I became one of his top ‘students’ (as he called us) simply because I was willing to throw myself into whatever he told me to do. At first, I was proud of that, but it started to become ridiculous. 

He would be voicenoting and phoning me all day, every day, demanding to know what I was doing at that exact moment. 

He would often go from bigging me up and telling me how amazing I was, to in the next breath pulling me down and saying I was ‘stupid’, ‘pathetic’ or a ‘little f****g p***y’.

To people like Gary, saying ‘I can’t afford this’ or ‘I want to stop’ is the ultimate sign of weakness. And I felt like if I even hinted at quitting, I’d be branded a loser forever.

Gary’s method was simple: you must do exactly what he said, how he said it and never, ever question him. I was told to hustle harder. Sleep less. Eat less. Cut out distractions. Push past pain.

Once, when I challenged Gary on how he talked about his wife, he smacked me across the face and told me to never speak to him like that again. 

He said I’d just proved I was still a ‘silly little boy’ and used my past against me, saying that my attitude was the reason my ex-girlfriend left me. 

I’d love to say I broke free from the cult that day but I didn’t.  

By that point, I was genuinely scared of him. So I continued isolating myself from my family and friends as I felt like that was what I was supposed to do. I became obsessed with tracking macros and growing my business revenue – I thought this was the only way to prove my worth, to attain the life Gary claimed to have. 

I developed disordered eating habits, compulsive exercising, and I couldn’t remember the last time I actually laughed properly. I didn’t like who I was becoming, but I was too deep in to walk away. 

Then came the bodybuilding competitions, encouraged by Gary, which made me miserable.

In preparation for those, literally every meal I had and every workout I did was being orchestrated by him. This led me to developing bulimia.

I’d had bulimia previously when I was 17; this time, it felt like the only way I could get through Gary’s regime and diet. 

I would secretly binge sweet treats and carbs and then purposely throw it all back up so that I could still make my check-in the following morning at 5am without him knowing what I had done.

Getting out wasn’t quick or easy, there was just a series of slow painful realisations – like that one on my 30th birthday. 

Ultimately, I sent Gary an email telling him I didn’t want to continue with his mentorship and immediately blocked him on everything. I never knew his reaction.

I instantly felt like a free man; and like myself again.

Looking back, Gary’s promise of an idyllic life and dismissing any perceived weakness was the textbook ‘toxic masculinity’ that Andrew Tate devotees still gather for. My mentor looked and spoke very similarly to Tate, and he made me think I had to be like that too.

Unlearning took time and energy. It was a long journey with a lot of therapy and diversifying the media I consume.

These days, my business is thriving more than ever. I train in the gym because it’s good for my health, not to punish myself or to prove my worth. I’ve surrounded myself with mentors and friends who see the real me, not just the highlights.

If you’re a young man being pulled into the manosphere, please hear me: You don’t have to earn your worth through acting tough. 

You don’t need to be aggressive to be respected. You don’t need to have a Rolex or Lamborghini to be considered valuable. 

Real strength comes from knowing exactly who you are and not needing to prove anything to anyone. 

*Name has been changed

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing Ross.Mccafferty@metro.co.uk. 

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