I am involuntarily celibate; an incel.
I haven’t had real sex since before Covid. I’ve had a few psuedo-sexual encounters in the past number of years, but not real sex. There were two half— baked.. attempts and one smooch sesh. Es todo.
What’s funny is, as far as graphs and charts and whatnot go, I’m frankly a catch. I’m just under 6’2. I have wide shoulders. And I have a fairly symmetrical body and face. Any asymmetry is because as a kid I only kicked right footed and only jumped off my left and thaaat did something… As for the face my nose caught a football coming in at breakneck speed one crisp friday night in my youth LAFA league and it hasn’t straightened out since. Generally though, a healthy balanced rubbery skinned 26 year young chap.
I’d say, in my humility, that my personality traits are also desirable enough for, if I may, a lady to wish me to bed her.
I’m kind to women, I do not spit at them and I do not wish them ill. I appreciate them and am doing my utmost to come honestly to the table as far as issues of women’s independence, a woman’s right to choose, and a woman’s place at the table to begin with. I will say not all of my views on the matter are entirely PC but no matter, this essay is about me. I kid! I indeed adore women and have more and more come to see that there is no men without women, and vice versa: sorry if not PC!
The association of the incel with the woman hater is not mismarked, as I have deduced from my time on what I like to call “NeoTwitter,” but Elon Musk insists must be called “X.” There is an anger and a blamecasting on corners of that site that easily leads a by– not stander, but by-twitterer, to shout into their keyboard, “Behold the mighty incel rage! Behold, as it exposes the sins of Hollywood starlets! As it decapitates its anonymous foid foe with its fiery name calling! Implementing the mightiest of terms! The dastardly “stupid!” (*gasp*) and of course the almost always fatal, “ugly!”
Whether a, as the kids say, terminally online guy is hating on a singular woman, this woman he may know of only on the internet or on the television, or he is hating Women as such; as beings; as natural phenomena, he is hating. He is hating and yet there is a— call it “Christian,” means of uncovering where this hate comes from and for finding mercy, forgiveness, and all that other stuff for these guys……suffice to say, there’s resentment. Suffice to say, there’s hurt and there’s trauma. Suffice to say, there’s a sense of being hated for being male. (what’s that, you say? Men, hated by women!?) Suffice to say, corporatism is a bit of bitch, begging your pardon.
Though if you were to ask me the most glaring ailment of these woman hating incels, it’s that they’re not having sex. I’ve managed to go this long dry and not become twisted into one of these worser types because I’ve understood that it can’t all be a woman’s fault. I do not find that it’s so simply my fault or man’s fault for that matter, but to make womankind your enemy is like declaring war on the Sun, or Greek Yogurt; it’s nonsensical.
Now, on this matter of where to place blame, it may be best to first take a deep breath. Actually, first taking a deep breath is great advice for before doing anything, anytime! But here on this most sensitive most sacred matter of contemplating the modern fracture between the sexes, a deep breath and moment of simply being can be most illuminating and most essential.
I postulate that a moment of rest would be most fruitful in making an effort to understand the current relationship between the sexes because it’s not so damn complicated! No, it is, naturally. Anything so core to what makes us human as does how woman and man relate is endless complexity. 100%. It is only that, well we know!
Yes, the previous paragraph was gibberish, but it’s the 21st century and we ought all be fluent in gibberish. What I mean to say is that it is in our very nature as sexual beings to traverse the landscape of sexuality. We know!
And what do we know!? What do the femcels and the incels know? What do the girl bosses and guy bosses know? What do the happily married and the happily divorced know? Deep way deep down beyond the layer of mind at which we can play tricks with ourselves and deceive ourselves, in the depths of our being, the thickest truest most permeable, we know that we need each other!!!!
The whole discourse on the sexual dysfunction of the modern 1st world skrts the underlying truth that we need each other. There is literally no man without woman, and there is perhaps in subtler but no less potent ways no woman without man.
At this junction I could go in a number of directions, some quite PC, others far from. But, let us stand firmly on this solid ground of acceptance— that we need each other; Man and Woman.
Not only do we need each other, but we flipping love each other. The things that men lambast women for on the web, are the things that make them desirable and heavenly. A woman’s touch of insanity is what keeps a man on his toes in a position of vitality & dexterity. Likewise, A man’s physical imposition may make a woman frightened but fear… (I’m going to thread the needle here), that same fear is what makes a man so desirable: the fear he can instill on a potential assailant as the two of you stroll home together late at night.
Women return this favor by defending men against themselves. A good woman, like Belle in the timeless tale Beauty & The Beast, can naturally give rise to gentleness and gentility in a beastly man simply by virtue of her feminine charm.
Clearly here I have a personal sense of what masculinity and femininity look like; the masculine is strong and able and the feminine is soothing and a tad insane. I kid again! Sort of. I do though have a sense of what could be called the “ideal” feminine & masculine. I argue you do as well! I argue we all do because we all seek an ideal and if we love life we aim to embody it and paint our world with it.
Another grievance against women is they’re not as smart as men, but I say their intellect is their own.
I interject here to say I predicate my arguments in this essay on the basis that there actually are differences between the sexes—I celebrate this!
On this matter of intellect, men and women kinetically understand each other and they spiritually rely on and boilster one another, but they do not fully understand the working of the other’s mind. This is a good thing! The game never ends because no one can ever firmly agree on the rules. What fun!
Here I may continue on elucidating the dichotomies existent between the sexes, and perhaps I will, speaking of fun! I am trepidatious about things getting a bit too erotic and yet…
A woman’s petiteness can be a source of self hatred and self loathing, if I understand anything about women. It can lead to feeling vulnerable and defenseless, and feeling less than when compared to a hulking man. If a woman lives under the delusion that she needs no man, this is frankly understandable especially considering the raw physical vulnerability this may mean in her day to day life. If she is with a strong able bodied man she need not have these fears because he can be her defender against physical threats, as he should. I can see how this can sound like an old school argument and its being an archaic argument is not at all lost on me. Because I find it true. To make one more adult assertion (I know I know soo many for one essay), it is indeed encoded into the fibers of reality that a female human animal is not as strong as a male human animal. You can argue at the margins but you merely prove the rule. Ok, adult points have been made, back to the fun!
Ooh this one will be fun indeed! A man’s hulking presence over a woman is not at all a bad thing. It is the pairing of the petiteness of woman and the power of man that create the conditions for ideal marital relations. That’s all. Just trust me on that one.
I’ll come back to this last point but I’d like to scribe a preamble. I’m off the PC deepend at this point but if you’re still reading that means, cheers!, you might just be an autonomous what-we-call Sovereign Individual.
An aspect to the gender divide that gets overlooked is this: It’s scary to put yourself out there. It’s frickin frightening as a– as myself to conceive of actually striking up a conversation with a girl. Bar none. And I can bet it’s incredibly nerve racking to give a new guy a chance as a girl when you really do not know if he’s a serial murderer or, more likely, but not definitely(!), a rapin type.
I’ve never commited a rape but, I’m sorry, rape seems to be an animal thing, and we, as much as we dress ourselves up or name ourselves or make up job titles and gender identities, are still animals. I’ll leave that there.
I do not promise perfection. I do not condone rape however. It’s wrong, I think. (Blame Dasha and Anna for my unsuredness.)
How honest should I be?
Raping a girl sounds fantastic. Overpowering her pinning her having my way with her making her mine. The thing about that fantasy is that it (mostly) hinges on the notion that “oh she would want me” and I assume that to be the consistent mentality of most all that rape. That there’s a secret conviction that you’re not transgressing against another but you’re blessing them, that you are what they want and that they are only too coy to make their feelings known. And that’s where the notion of the “rape fantasy” gets very tricky and where again I’m confident when we are wholly honest with ourselves we know when it’s right and when it’s wrong… or perhaps when it’s mostly right I really do not know I’m in extremely sensitive territory.
Now that I’ve gone out so far, into such choppy water, our venture back to calm tides should feel less bumpy than perhaps if we only pushed a bit towards the storm.
… Assuming that analogy worked, let’s talk about domination and submission. Rape is some crazy stuff and difficult to talk about– difficult to understand– difficult to fathom even, but consenting adults having intense sex is not the same thing. It is extremely telling of what we are as Human animals.
When a husband pulls on his wife’s hair as they are making love, he is dominating her. More graphic you say? When he’s pounding her from behind and leaving red marks from slapping the bejesus out off her ass, he’s making her his. And she is submitting to him by allowing him to do such. She is giving herself to him by pressing back into his cock and moaning feverishly. This is hot sexy sex. And sex like this, like when a man lifts his woman up into the air and fucks her against a wall, is only possible when, sorry to be graphic, the woman doesn’t weigh 200 pounds and the guy is, frankly, jacked.
It must be a bit scary as a woman to trust your man in that kind of way and it must be daunting as a man to go for such a thing, even when the beast in you is unwavering, because of all of kinds of reasons: you don’t want to emotionally or physical scar this woman you love, you don’t want to risk losing access to her sexually, you don’t want to deal with the legal implications or the social implications of being accused of rape… there are a good few reasons for the man but for the woman it comes down mostly to, is this guy about to kill me.
Whatever you’re a bunch of freaks anyways! And I mean men and women! And you’re glorious for it! You freaks you!
Coming all the way around to my inceldom and the drastic lack of sex that I’m having and many people are (not) having—we’re petrified I think! I am! Rejection & laughter & nervousness & success! Performance & the aftermath & what to say how to ask when to just go for it, it’s flipping scary and nuanced. It’s instinctual but there’s also a lot of bureaucracy involved and that’s what I’d like to address next.
This should be an interesting bit because it’s a chance to think actionably.
I find the opportunities, the venues by which to connect with women daunting beyond the actual shooting-my-shot of it all.
You have Tinder, the bars, and blimey I don’t know where else to meet women. I’ll try to conceive of tertiary situations… walking past each other in the street, layed out near each other at the beach, waiting in line together at a cafe or supermarket, on the bus or the train at the same time, at a party (I no get invited to parties), in the airport, at church (if that’s your style), at work (if there’s no policy or stigma against it), or I guess randomly on the internet while on Reddit or Omegle or Instagram or something. I suppose rich people have more opportunities cause they have resorts and benefit dinners and weddings and ceremonies and whatever else rich people have– private islands, whatever.
I’m sure there’s more and of course just walking around it’s always possible to meet someone and say something (AHH!).
Here on planet Earth though there are two options for meeting girls: the bar and tinder.
Why the bar sucks.
The bar sucks because everyone is drunk and alcohol is disgusting and poison and I want nothing to do with it 95% of the time.
Why tinder sucks.
Tinder sucks because it’s a casino app. It’s a poison of the mind to use tinder.
And so, we’re left with porn.
Kidding! Not the solution no way no how.
What do we do? What do I do? Is it helpful to write long winded pieces like this only to return to where I was to begin with, that is still getting no pussy? Jesus Christ I don’t know. I do know I have hope. I do know that tomorrow is a new day and that I’ve wisdom in me that I’ve not yet encountered and that it will lead me forward. I hope you learned something today, come back next week as I parse out the issue of racism. Until then, have yourself a merry little evening.
J.W. 