thecel
narrow-orbits brachy-skull ogre
- Joined
- May 16, 2020
- Posts
- 23,284
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Over 3 years of rotting on incel forums. Users say it never began for me because of my DNA.
But I still had a little iota of hope. And I wanted to find out whether it was true.
I sought to find out how subhuman I truly am. By doing something brave—a stunt that few men here have the balls to do.
I went to a party dressed as a woman, with makeup on and all that. Except earrings and nails. Couldn’t be arsed to do them. My outfit—which included a skirt to fraud wider hips—showed some skin but wasn’t escort-tier skimpy; most of my legs and a bit of my midriff were exposed. I wanted to strike a balance between (a) looking slutty enough to attract men and (b) covering my body enough to conceal my masculine features (and lack of feminine features).
If you’ve been in the blackpill space for any amount of time, you’re probably familiar with the idea that women, including below-average-looking women, get endless attention—even sub-5 women have beta orbiters hitting on them in nightclubs and in bars. In Tinder experiments, profiles that use photos of obese women get colossal amounts of attention from thirsty men.
So I thought, as subhuman as I look as a male, at least I’d get some results if I were to masquerade as a female.
The result : Zero men at the party approached me.
That night, I lost the false hope and came face-to-face with the unadulterated reality: I’m so undesirable that transforming into a woman can’t save me from a lifetime of inceldom and isolation.
As a result, I confirmed that it never began for me.
I should’ve listened to this wise man:
But I still had a little iota of hope. And I wanted to find out whether it was true.
I sought to find out how subhuman I truly am. By doing something brave—a stunt that few men here have the balls to do.
I went to a party dressed as a woman, with makeup on and all that. Except earrings and nails. Couldn’t be arsed to do them. My outfit—which included a skirt to fraud wider hips—showed some skin but wasn’t escort-tier skimpy; most of my legs and a bit of my midriff were exposed. I wanted to strike a balance between (a) looking slutty enough to attract men and (b) covering my body enough to conceal my masculine features (and lack of feminine features).
If you’ve been in the blackpill space for any amount of time, you’re probably familiar with the idea that women, including below-average-looking women, get endless attention—even sub-5 women have beta orbiters hitting on them in nightclubs and in bars. In Tinder experiments, profiles that use photos of obese women get colossal amounts of attention from thirsty men.
So I thought, as subhuman as I look as a male, at least I’d get some results if I were to masquerade as a female.
The result : Zero men at the party approached me.
That night, I lost the false hope and came face-to-face with the unadulterated reality: I’m so undesirable that transforming into a woman can’t save me from a lifetime of inceldom and isolation.
As a result, I confirmed that it never began for me.
I should’ve listened to this wise man:
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“Yeah I’m a social outcast, but I don’t like partying anyway!” 
