Twenty years ago I could have been one of you, only I still had my pride. I certainly wasn’t going to plow a van into a bunch of women because I couldn’t get laid. As such, I’m about to lay some harsh truth on you: if you make your inability to get laid the basis of your identity, you deserve to be incel.
It’s not that hard to find a willing partner. I’m a fat geek who writes about swashbuckling soprano catgirls, and I managed to find partners. Christ, I’ve been married for thirteen fucking years. What the hell is your excuse?
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Seriously, what is your major malfunction? You’re long past the age when your misogyny could be dismissed as innocent, cute, or just “boys will be boys”.
You think it was easy twenty years ago? It wasn’t, but whatever.
Don’t want to date? Go to one of Nevada’s legal brothels. Go to Amsterdam. Go to Austria. Go to Australia. Go somewhere where adult sex workers can ply their trade without fear of state violence and get your itch scratched by a professional who — to a point — will put up with your bullshit and your toxic attitudes because they’re getting paid for it.
Oh, right. It doesn’t “count” if you had to pay for it because you can’t brag about it to your macho buddies. So don’t brag about it. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, remember?
Oh, but you have a moral objection to hiring a sex worker? You’re concerned about human trafficking? You think sex work is inherently exploitative to those who engage in it? That’s commendable, but what’s stopping you from approaching women and talking to them like a functioning human being?
To quote a movie that was old when I was a kid: you and about five million other guys.
You think depression or being on the autistic spectrum make it impossible to reach out to other people and form relationships? I’ll admit it makes things harder, but the gap between harder and impossible is so big that God could disappear inside of it.
I manage it. Millions of other depressed and/or autistic people manage it. Stop bullshitting yourself and get your act together.
How ugly? So ugly that even your mothers can’t deny it? Or just ugly as in not handsome enough for Hollywood? There’s a big difference.
But let’s take a look at that loser you venerate as the “Supreme Gentleman”. Sure, he was half-Asian and Asian men often face stigma when dating, but his face wasn’t deformed or disfigured. It’s not like he had outrageously bad skin or an untreated harelip. His was the sort of ugly you can’t fix at the gym or by seeing a dermatologist or a plastic surgeon, and chances are so is yours.
Your kind of ugly comes from within. It’s not your looks; it’s your personality, mindset, and beliefs. You’ve forgotten, or never learned, that women are people and that other people do not exist for your benefit.
You believe that you deserve love and attention from women you find attractive. You aren’t willing or able to challenge your shallow, manufactured notions of what makes a woman attractive. Nor are you willing to fix your own flaws and make yourself attractive to the sort of women whose esteem you crave. You certainly aren’t willing to broaden your horizons and consider other young men who are as lonely and skin-hungry as yourselves as potential partners, because you’re afraid of what Chad will think.
Here’s a clue for you: if Chad spares a moment’s thought for you, he has probably already drawn his own conclusions regarding your sexual preferences. You might as well stock up on condoms and lube, and have yourselves a gay old time.
Nobody owes you love. Nobody owes you sex. You aren’t entitled to another person’s time, affection, or touch. Believing otherwise is exactly what people mean when they talk about “rape culture”.
Instead of accepting that you have a shitty attitude and fixing yourselves, you wallow in your self-pity with dicks in hand, fantasizing about “incel revolutions” and “beta uprisings”.
First off, that whole alpha/beta thing is pseudoscientific bullshit that has no basis in reality. My guess is that it got cripped from Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World, a dystopian novel in which people genetically engineered to fit into particular tasks, the alphas ran everything, and the betas did the the thankless work of keeping civilization running.
You aren’t doing that work. You aren’t betas. You aren’t even omegas. You’re nothing but overgrown children with no experience of true adversity. You probably never learned how to handle rejection because your parents forgot how to say ‘no’ before they finished doing a half-assed job of toilet-training you.
You haven’t accepted that the world doesn’t revolve around you. You haven’t internalized the reality of the utter irrelevance of your feelings to the rest of the human race. And before one of you shitfountains decide to get cute and say “a cat is fine too,” your cat probably doesn’t give a damn about your feelings either.
The lies you tell yourself are the lies that define you. Right now, the lie you’re telling yourself is that your misery isn’t of your own making. Maybe you got dealt a shitty hand. Maybe you got dealt a decent hand, but never learned how best to play it. Either way, you’ve got to learn to play the hand you were dealt.
But you don’t want to accept that because doing so would require that you look at yourselves in a goddamn mirror. You’re the author of your own misery, and you’re doing everything in your power to avoid the truth that you’re the only one who can fix your life.
“I am the captain of my soul,” is another lie some of us tell ourselves, but people who believe that lie and act as if it were true seem to get more out of life than people who tell themselves that there’s nothing they can do to improve their own lives.
I’d like to say that the truth of the matter is that both free will and determinism are bullshit, but even that isn’t necessarily the truth. It might just be less wrong than believing in one or the other.
Instead of assuming that it’s all under your control or that it’s all fate, treat life as a game of poker. Take the hand you’ve been dealt and play it for everything it’s worth. Go all in on every hand. Never fold. Never back down.
If you think a relationship will make everything better, I’ve got a clue for you: having a girlfriend (or a wife) doesn’t magically make everything better. Hell, it often makes things harder, because now you can’t just put yourself first and to hell with everybody else. Now you’ve got to consider another person’s needs and desires.
Instead of thinking, “Man, I don’t feel like going to work today. I’m just gonna call in sick,” and doing so, you find yourself thinking, “Man, I really don’t want to go to work today, but if I lose my job Stacy will have to explain to all her friends why she’s dating a broke scrub with no job.”
It gets even harder when you’re married, because now you and the other person are bound into a personal and economic partnership by law, and neither of you can just walk away because you’re not happy, despite the lies MRAs might have told you about no-fault divorce. Instead, you’re together pretty much all the time, and see each other when you’re not on your best behavior and trying to impress each other.
You’ll get sick. You’ll argue over money. You’ll think the other person’s parents are assholes. You’ll think you married an asshole and wonder what the hell you were thinking before you remember that you weren’t thinking, but feeling, and goddammit you still feel that way even though they’ve pissed you off.
And if you have kids? It only gets harder.
It ain’t just coed naked fun and games, people. Relationships are a responsibility. Ideally the journey is worthwhile, but this is real life and there are no guarantees. But you can’t accept that. You aren’t willing to step up and do the work necessary to become functioning human beings who are capable of having adult relationships.
Do you even know what feminism is? Yes, women aren’t compliant and subservient like they “used to be” back in the “good old days”. They don’t just lie back, close their eyes, and think of England.
This is a good thing. Women today can be more interesting, more challenging, and more worthwhile than they ever were before. They can challenge, inspire, and delight like never before, if we let them.
If you believe otherwise then those “red pills” you’ve been taking are made of snake oil. You need to stop reading and listening to the shit the alt-right has been selling you via the “manosphere”. I know they tell you that it’s not your fault, that you’re worthy just the way you are and that women who can’t accept you as you are to blame.
Don’t you realize they’re lying to you?
Are you so fucking ignorant and naive that you haven’t realized that these assholes don’t give a single little fucking shit about you? Wake up and smell the napalm. To them, you’re nothing but a bunch of useful idiots, and they will discard you the second you cease to be useful. They threw Milo Yiannopoulos under the bus, and they’ll do the same to you.
I wrote this as a warning to young men who feel unfuckable but haven’t yet embraced “incel” as some kind of sociopolitical identity. I don’t expect you to do anything. After all, it’s not your fault that your life sucks, right?
Look: it’s not that I’ve written you off, but that you’ve written yourselves off. If you’re going to write youselves off as worthless, why shouldn’t the rest of us take you at your word?
You’re welcome to prove me wrong if you can. Here’s how to start: ask yourself what you want the meaning of your life to be. Do you want it to be about nothing but your inability to connect with other people? Don’t you want more for yourself?
If so, here’s what to do. Get off the internet, turn off the screens, go outside, and get some sun. Try talking to other human beings in person. Try learning how to make and keep friends. Learn how to be a decent human being and make a life for yourself where your happiness doesn’t depend on whether somebody else is helping you get your rocks off. Broaden your horizons and learn to see beauty where it isn’t obvious. Try dating somebody because you enjoy their company and not because looking at them makes your dick hard.
There’s no guarantee it’ll happen, but you might get laid along the way. You’ll be nervous. Things won’t work like they do in porn, but porn is bullshit and you know it. Just be honest, admit that it’s your first time, and if they give you shit about it then they’re the asshole.
Accept that nobody’s keeping score but you. Nobody cares if you’re a virgin or not. They care if you’re good, giving, and game in bed. You can be that way your first time. You can have had a hundred partners and still be a lousy lay.
It’s up to you.
Since an earlier version of this rant has gotten a bit of traction on a social site most dismiss as a “ghost town”, a few people have questioned the need for this rant.
I wrote this because I was having a shitty day at work, felt like ranting, and needed an acceptable target. The Harold Lauders of the world, the unattractive losers who not only blame others for their own issues but resort to violence against innocent people, are fair game. So are those who cheer them on.