D
Deleted member 2381
It’s so over for the average schmuck
- Joined
- Jul 14, 2019
- Posts
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George opens his eyes slowly as he wakes up in last night's outfit. He turns his head to face the empty space beside him. To his inevitable disappointment, the double bed was empty. He doesn't recall exactly how long, but George thinks it's been at least 7 years since he last had sex in his small London apartment. Night after night, despite his best efforts, girls were just simply not interested in him. Each sexual advance he had made towards women was swiftly shut down, forcing him into a permanent state of involuntary celibacy.
In an effort to remain positive, he sits up and decided what he will do for the day.
George looks towards his window and notices the sun shining outside; a rare sight in the hellhole they call England. As a committed 'looksmaxer', George made sure to take full advantage and top up his tan in the garden.
After sunbathing for what felt like 2 hours, George stands up and gazes at his body with a look of defeat in his eyes
"How many more reps will it take?"
"How many more shakes?"
"Why is this gymcelled physique not good enough?"
He sighs and walks back inside.
In a moment of desperation, George aggressively grabs his laptop and types into Google:
Much to his surprise, the first result to appear instructed him to get a haircut. "Damn", he thought. "Maybe I just need a better fade". He usually asks the barber for a number one sides and back, this time he thought he'd ask for a skin fade. Maybe that was the key to escaping inceldom.
George had previously arranged yet another night out with his friends in the evening. Every single one of them was incel like him. Together, they had spent a total of £1300 on Tinder gold subscriptions and multiple boosts with no luck. It had been several years since any of the boys had matched a girl who weighed below 85 kg within the 100 mile radius.
In an attempt to achieve a competitive advantage over his friends, George was willing to take Google's advice and get a skin fade. He knew deep down it probably wasn't going to make a difference.
He leaves the house and starts making his away to the local Turkish barber.
George notices a girl approaching him in the distance as he bowed his head down to avoid eye contact.
The girl made her way towards him confidently, muttering something under her breath the moment they crossed paths
"Manlet"
George stops abruptly and turns to face the girl
"Excuse me?"
"Oh, nothing" the girl says as she giggles behind her mask
George was in disbelief. With good reason too. He was 6'1. It was only the other day he read online that manlet status only starts at 5'10.
With suicidal thought running through his mind, he picks up the pace and arrives for his haircut.
"Yeah it looks good, cheers mate. How much?"
"For you my friend, £15" the Turkish man replies in his ethnic accent.
"Yeah no worries lad, keep the extra" George says as he hands him a £20 note.
Fast forward to their night out.
George and his friends step out of the taxi just outside a typical London nightclub. They take one glance at the club line and see that it's infested with men. There stood 20 males for every female in this club; a good ratio it seemed. Usually on a student night you'd be lucky to get anything below 40:1. The night was looking promising already.
The boys made their way inside and straight to the bar for a few beers.
After a few cold approaches and constant rejections, the boys thought they'd go outside for a cigarette.
Standing next to them were a group of girls who appeared to be first year uni students. One girl in particular had her phone out, as the others stood huddled around it.
"omg he's so fit. Do you know him?" one of the girls said
"He's literally perfect" another girl responds in astonishment
Using the shoe lifts inside his Airmaxs, George tiptoes and turns his head upwards to try and catch a glimpse of what they were looking at
From that point onwards, George knew it was over.
In an effort to remain positive, he sits up and decided what he will do for the day.
George looks towards his window and notices the sun shining outside; a rare sight in the hellhole they call England. As a committed 'looksmaxer', George made sure to take full advantage and top up his tan in the garden.
After sunbathing for what felt like 2 hours, George stands up and gazes at his body with a look of defeat in his eyes
"How many more reps will it take?"
"How many more shakes?"
"Why is this gymcelled physique not good enough?"
He sighs and walks back inside.
In a moment of desperation, George aggressively grabs his laptop and types into Google:
Much to his surprise, the first result to appear instructed him to get a haircut. "Damn", he thought. "Maybe I just need a better fade". He usually asks the barber for a number one sides and back, this time he thought he'd ask for a skin fade. Maybe that was the key to escaping inceldom.
George had previously arranged yet another night out with his friends in the evening. Every single one of them was incel like him. Together, they had spent a total of £1300 on Tinder gold subscriptions and multiple boosts with no luck. It had been several years since any of the boys had matched a girl who weighed below 85 kg within the 100 mile radius.
In an attempt to achieve a competitive advantage over his friends, George was willing to take Google's advice and get a skin fade. He knew deep down it probably wasn't going to make a difference.
He leaves the house and starts making his away to the local Turkish barber.
George notices a girl approaching him in the distance as he bowed his head down to avoid eye contact.
The girl made her way towards him confidently, muttering something under her breath the moment they crossed paths
"Manlet"
George stops abruptly and turns to face the girl
"Excuse me?"
"Oh, nothing" the girl says as she giggles behind her mask
George was in disbelief. With good reason too. He was 6'1. It was only the other day he read online that manlet status only starts at 5'10.
With suicidal thought running through his mind, he picks up the pace and arrives for his haircut.
"Yeah it looks good, cheers mate. How much?"
"For you my friend, £15" the Turkish man replies in his ethnic accent.
"Yeah no worries lad, keep the extra" George says as he hands him a £20 note.
Fast forward to their night out.
George and his friends step out of the taxi just outside a typical London nightclub. They take one glance at the club line and see that it's infested with men. There stood 20 males for every female in this club; a good ratio it seemed. Usually on a student night you'd be lucky to get anything below 40:1. The night was looking promising already.
The boys made their way inside and straight to the bar for a few beers.
After a few cold approaches and constant rejections, the boys thought they'd go outside for a cigarette.
Standing next to them were a group of girls who appeared to be first year uni students. One girl in particular had her phone out, as the others stood huddled around it.
"omg he's so fit. Do you know him?" one of the girls said
"He's literally perfect" another girl responds in astonishment
Using the shoe lifts inside his Airmaxs, George tiptoes and turns his head upwards to try and catch a glimpse of what they were looking at
From that point onwards, George knew it was over.
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