A Fate Worse than Being Stuck at a Never-Ending Country Music Festival
Lately, I've been worried. Worried that I'm dangerously close to spiraling into the black hole that is inceldom.
If you don't know what an incel is, it's someone who wants to have sex but can't get laid. There's a vast community of these folks on the internet. Many online support groups and chat room have formed, allowing incels to share one another's burdens. I guess that's what they're doing.
I've been drifting through the wake of the events that transpired with Girl X. That woman was the love of my life, at least to this point, and it really sucked to snap out of the spell I allowed her to put me under to realize there's a good possibility that our connection was, at least to a certain extent, bullshit. The resulting heartbreak evolved into sustained depression which morphed into extreme self-loathing and a desire to avoid the same situation in the future.
Then, the anger hit. Anger like I've never felt before. I'm talking fucking rage, the kind of fucking rage that only dissipates after you burn a church or beat the shit out of a car with a sledgehammer. Or after a session of death metal karaoke, eh Retsuko? ;)
I'm angry at Girl X for mistreating me and devaluing me because of my physical appearance and abandoning me. I'm angry at me because after all the shit she did to me, I can't even be mad at her because I could have left. She gave me exit ramp after exit ramp and I couldn't bring myself to walk away. I'm angry because I'm can't even give myself credit for walking away because she left me and all I did was not try to follow.
That brought my experience exploring the incel rabbit hole back into my mind. I remembered how angry these guys seemed to be. I remember feeling many things I'd seen incels express, like the despondency accompanying the knowledge that the one I wanted didn't want me. The confusion that flooded me watching women I loved gave their time, love and energy to douche bags who didn't appear to deserve it. That kind of shit.
Then I noticed I had other things in common with incels. And I began to kind of freak out. Stuff like this...
1. I own a fedora. See?
2. I have often felt like I deserve the love of the woman of my choice because, hell, I'm a decent enough guy.
3. I wouldn't be caught dead calling a woman "M'Lady" or any of that chivalrous shit. But I have been more than willing to walk on fucking eggshells to impress women I wanted to date or keep in my life.
4. I don't own a trenchcoat, but Silent Bob is one of my role models, and that motherfucker wears a trenchcoat.
5. I don't own a katana, but I think their really fucking cool, and I'd sure love to own one. Plus I fiddle around with them every year at the sword vendor at the Renaissance Faire. See?
6. Incels are widely known for having neckbeards. I have a beard. It's on more than just my neck and it's pretty fucking Viking. But still...
7. I've seen photos of the kind of messes the incels live in. I'm really messy myself.
8. Incels supposedly eat a lot of microwave junk food, like pizza rolls and Hot Pockets. I FUCKING LOVE HOT POCKETS!!!
So, yeah. I feel like I might be in the danger zone. Except, I don't necessarily blame women for my plight. I could probably get laid if I wanted to badly enough. But, as I've detailed many times before, I don't attract the kind of women I want to get into a relationship with and I don't want sex for the sake of having sex.
And as angry as I am, I realize that I put myself in this boat. Again, I know that I could find a fuckbuddy if that was my goal. But I choose not to. I want a healthful relationship with someone amazing, with physical intimacy as a component of said relationship. And that won't happen as long as I only draw women I'm not interested in to me. I'd rather be lonely and sexually frustrated than be stuck in a relationship with someone who isn't what I want or need.
So, am I becoming an incel? I don't think so. I'm not angry enough at women. In fact, I met someone on my road trip to Utah in June who I'd be totally stoked to be dating. I don't think you can realize you've met someone special when you're so consumed with anger that you're snorting flames. I get the feeling that I'm a little too old to be considered part of that community.
And I haven't completely abandoned hope. I might be crazy for not doing so, but hell, if Ed Wood, Uwe Boll and Tommy Wiseau can get a chance to direct movies, I at least have a chance at meeting someone awesome who'll reciprocate my interest in them.
I mean, someone has to find this shit irresistible, right?
If you don't know what an incel is, it's someone who wants to have sex but can't get laid. There's a vast community of these folks on the internet. Many online support groups and chat room have formed, allowing incels to share one another's burdens. I guess that's what they're doing.
I've been drifting through the wake of the events that transpired with Girl X. That woman was the love of my life, at least to this point, and it really sucked to snap out of the spell I allowed her to put me under to realize there's a good possibility that our connection was, at least to a certain extent, bullshit. The resulting heartbreak evolved into sustained depression which morphed into extreme self-loathing and a desire to avoid the same situation in the future.
Then, the anger hit. Anger like I've never felt before. I'm talking fucking rage, the kind of fucking rage that only dissipates after you burn a church or beat the shit out of a car with a sledgehammer. Or after a session of death metal karaoke, eh Retsuko? ;)
I'm angry at Girl X for mistreating me and devaluing me because of my physical appearance and abandoning me. I'm angry at me because after all the shit she did to me, I can't even be mad at her because I could have left. She gave me exit ramp after exit ramp and I couldn't bring myself to walk away. I'm angry because I'm can't even give myself credit for walking away because she left me and all I did was not try to follow.
That brought my experience exploring the incel rabbit hole back into my mind. I remembered how angry these guys seemed to be. I remember feeling many things I'd seen incels express, like the despondency accompanying the knowledge that the one I wanted didn't want me. The confusion that flooded me watching women I loved gave their time, love and energy to douche bags who didn't appear to deserve it. That kind of shit.
Then I noticed I had other things in common with incels. And I began to kind of freak out. Stuff like this...
1. I own a fedora. See?
2. I have often felt like I deserve the love of the woman of my choice because, hell, I'm a decent enough guy.
3. I wouldn't be caught dead calling a woman "M'Lady" or any of that chivalrous shit. But I have been more than willing to walk on fucking eggshells to impress women I wanted to date or keep in my life.
4. I don't own a trenchcoat, but Silent Bob is one of my role models, and that motherfucker wears a trenchcoat.
5. I don't own a katana, but I think their really fucking cool, and I'd sure love to own one. Plus I fiddle around with them every year at the sword vendor at the Renaissance Faire. See?
6. Incels are widely known for having neckbeards. I have a beard. It's on more than just my neck and it's pretty fucking Viking. But still...
7. I've seen photos of the kind of messes the incels live in. I'm really messy myself.
8. Incels supposedly eat a lot of microwave junk food, like pizza rolls and Hot Pockets. I FUCKING LOVE HOT POCKETS!!!
So, yeah. I feel like I might be in the danger zone. Except, I don't necessarily blame women for my plight. I could probably get laid if I wanted to badly enough. But, as I've detailed many times before, I don't attract the kind of women I want to get into a relationship with and I don't want sex for the sake of having sex.
And as angry as I am, I realize that I put myself in this boat. Again, I know that I could find a fuckbuddy if that was my goal. But I choose not to. I want a healthful relationship with someone amazing, with physical intimacy as a component of said relationship. And that won't happen as long as I only draw women I'm not interested in to me. I'd rather be lonely and sexually frustrated than be stuck in a relationship with someone who isn't what I want or need.
So, am I becoming an incel? I don't think so. I'm not angry enough at women. In fact, I met someone on my road trip to Utah in June who I'd be totally stoked to be dating. I don't think you can realize you've met someone special when you're so consumed with anger that you're snorting flames. I get the feeling that I'm a little too old to be considered part of that community.
And I haven't completely abandoned hope. I might be crazy for not doing so, but hell, if Ed Wood, Uwe Boll and Tommy Wiseau can get a chance to direct movies, I at least have a chance at meeting someone awesome who'll reciprocate my interest in them.
I mean, someone has to find this shit irresistible, right?
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