ranierean
...Boarding L'Express de Schery 🚬🚂✊
- Joined
- Jul 1, 2023
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Even after all these years I’m still not close to wrapping my mind around it.
I get the Hows and Whys, that’s the easy part, but I don’t know how to think about it, I have no idea how to cope.
The main problem has to be the term itself: it usually refers to the milieu tied to this culture and language—the (boring, shallow, petty, obtuse, directionless, narcissistic) small-r-reactionary excess men.
Everyone can be incel and no one can be an incel, being semantically rigid about it is pointless.
It’s uninspiring because the older broader narrative of being ungifted and unlovable is by itself moot too—when you’re ugly inside and out saying anything more is wholly superfluous.
Incel romanticism and sexuality proves this, I think, all of it is just poverty of imagination and a failure of theory of mind.
There’s a collective incel daydream about a certain type of girl that could be available to you in more ways than one. She’s into the same anime, music, video games, websites, yada yada as you—she has to cope like you do because she’s a loser too—you can insert clumsiness, feigned edginess, disheveled looks, uncanny face, whatever, with an (obvious) through line being that she is you.
It makes perfect sense to seek out people that you could actually relate to and, funnily enough, some variation of her, speaking mathematically, has to exist out there, for sure; but you eventually start… overcorrecting. With this milieu it’s the blackpill mythos—comically pornographic genetic determinism, always crass and transparently resentful: if she’s “real” and quirky in the way that you want, it’s actually her ex etching his mark onto her, she does it for Chad, it’s all about her holes—the Incel becomes boorish but remains bovine.
The insulting simplicity of inceldom is the reason why it hurts. I get embarrassing blimps in my mind of me locking arms, holding someone, being held, calling someone “baby” but it all comes down to something unclimactic like, “Why should anyone even care about you? What do you have to offer?”
There is no “trauma” and if anything, I wasn’t bullied enough. Sure, there were some incidents, but most of them are bizarre and straight up laughable. I think that I’m a net asshole overall and that’s… fine. Nothing ever happens.
I get the Hows and Whys, that’s the easy part, but I don’t know how to think about it, I have no idea how to cope.
The main problem has to be the term itself: it usually refers to the milieu tied to this culture and language—the (boring, shallow, petty, obtuse, directionless, narcissistic) small-r-reactionary excess men.
Everyone can be incel and no one can be an incel, being semantically rigid about it is pointless.
It’s uninspiring because the older broader narrative of being ungifted and unlovable is by itself moot too—when you’re ugly inside and out saying anything more is wholly superfluous.
Incel romanticism and sexuality proves this, I think, all of it is just poverty of imagination and a failure of theory of mind.
There’s a collective incel daydream about a certain type of girl that could be available to you in more ways than one. She’s into the same anime, music, video games, websites, yada yada as you—she has to cope like you do because she’s a loser too—you can insert clumsiness, feigned edginess, disheveled looks, uncanny face, whatever, with an (obvious) through line being that she is you.
It makes perfect sense to seek out people that you could actually relate to and, funnily enough, some variation of her, speaking mathematically, has to exist out there, for sure; but you eventually start… overcorrecting. With this milieu it’s the blackpill mythos—comically pornographic genetic determinism, always crass and transparently resentful: if she’s “real” and quirky in the way that you want, it’s actually her ex etching his mark onto her, she does it for Chad, it’s all about her holes—the Incel becomes boorish but remains bovine.
The insulting simplicity of inceldom is the reason why it hurts. I get embarrassing blimps in my mind of me locking arms, holding someone, being held, calling someone “baby” but it all comes down to something unclimactic like, “Why should anyone even care about you? What do you have to offer?”
There is no “trauma” and if anything, I wasn’t bullied enough. Sure, there were some incidents, but most of them are bizarre and straight up laughable. I think that I’m a net asshole overall and that’s… fine. Nothing ever happens.
