I really wanna see the opinions of users in this forum regarding this most common argument thrown out by cucktears.
I am no more entitled to sex than a starving man is to a meal if he's without the means to acquire one. Were I entitled to a sexual relationship I would be engaged in one, wouldn't I be? One is only entitled to love if he is lovable, only entitled to be desired if he's desirable. Without these qualities the only thing I'm entitled to is loneliness and frustration, just as our hapless starving man is only entitled to the hunger pangs wracking his belly.
The problem when it comes to entitlement and discussions regarding the involuntarily celibate in relation to it is that we've forgotten what to be entitled to something actually means. The idea that there are inalienable rights each person deserves to enjoy simply because they were born human is a comforting fiction, an angel we've constructed with happy dreams and empathy to stand between the orderly cosmos we like to believe we inhabit and the forces of Chaos that are always threatening to tear it asunder.
If that angel was to extinguish its fiery sword and step aside, we would be forced to acknowledge the harsh truth that the hungry man isn't entitled to that meal if he's unable to procure it, the disabled individual not entitled to the the assistance that artificially prolongs his life, the unemployed woman to the social programs that allow her to feed her children.
Nature is, when all is said and done, brutal in Her lack of mercy. We human beings, on the other hand, are not. As a uniquely social animal, we've developed the capacity for empathy. This doesn't necessarily mean we're good; it's the sadist's ability to recognize the pain of his victims that makes the cruelties he inflicts so enjoyable to him. What it does mean is that we recoil in horror when we look upon our dread Mother's unadorned face and are willing to go to great lengths in a desperate attempt to beautify Her. We feed the poor, we support the weak, we minister to the sick all the while convincing ourselves those receiving such charity are actually entitled to these good things. This is how we sustain the happy illusion that the world is inherently good, this is the morphia we employ to prolong enlightened civilization's happy dream.
However, it's fundamentally impossible to extend to the incel the same type of charity we offer to those others cheated by Nature. Though we can offer food to the hungry and treat those afflicted with illness, it is beyond our means to make the ugly beautiful. We are no more than capable of making a truly repulsive man an object of desire than we are silencing the music of the spheres and dragging the stars from the firmament.
As such, we authentically ugly monsters are reminders of Nature's essential cruelty. There's no food capable of filling our stomachs, no balm existing to soothe our wounds, no prayer with the power to drive our devils out. When we cry out in agony, there's nothing anyone can give us to quell our moans. No state-sponsored program utilizing legal prostitution, no artificial mate no matter how lifelike it may be, will change the fact no human woman actually desires us. There is no charity one can donate to that may some day find a solution to our problem, no well-spring of justifiable hope that can wash away our stain and make the world completely beautiful again. Our cries of misery are the collective voice of Chaos, the howls of the damned that pollute songs sung in Heaven with discord. We creatures that Nature is ashamed to have created are the parasitic vines strangling the Tree of Life.
This is the actual reason our complaints are so offensive to the happy and the healthy. It's not that we feel entitled to love that our enemies object to. Rather, it's the simple fact we recognize we aren't entitled to sexual affection but refuse to suffer in silence. They would prefer we accept our situation happily, smiling sweetly with our malformed lips as we languish in loneliness and sexual frustration. Our detractors despise the fact that we freaks, having been banished to Nature's filthiest sideshow, are weeping rather than singing behind the panes of glass that separate us from their pleasant daylight world.
Never forget that every time someone indignantly shrieks that an incel is "entitled" that person is trying to rob a monster of one of the few things he actually is entitled to, something he has authentically earned and the closest thing an abomination has to a human soul: his pain.
