I was a 26 year old dateless, hugless, handholdless, kissless virgin, up until one week ago. Now, I am virgin who hugged, held hands, dated and kissed. And have a real shot at losing my virginity as well. Because the ideal girl approached me. But rather than becoming bluepilled, I became more jaded and blackpilled: let me tell you why.
I've been diagnozed with severe social anxiety by three separate psychologists, take medication, but to little avail. My anxiety so extreme I rejected some girls I've actually liked, way back in high school. Some may call me a volcel, but I'm an incel: I didn't choose to freak out whenever people speak to me.
I cannot tell whether I'm ugly or not. Some compliment my appearance, but whenever I look in the mirror, I just see an abomination. That's a by-product of social anxiety. I'm definitely no "Chad", being Ashkenazi Jewish, with a slight hook nose, thick wavy hair, a narrow skull and a boyish face. Imagine Timothee Chalamet in uglier, that's literally me. I am perceivably intelligent, having been IQ tested at 127 with 21.
I lived the life of a social recluse up to 26, without hope to ever touch a pretty young woman. But boy I did, and boy was she ideal.
She texted me first, believe it or not. She basically set up our first date. The "how" is a long story, but let me say it happened by extreme luck, through an old lady who gave private art lessons and spoke very high of me to all her other students, one of which happened to be her. Our first date was in an art gallery, we were both genuinely fascinated by the paintings and held an hour-long conversation about them. She was the one to request a second date immediately.
Our third date lasted four hours because our talk was just that engaging, our fourth date lasted six, our fifth "only" four, but ended up being very touchy and physical. I've never met a woman I could talk with about Van Gogh, economics, genetics, architecture, history for *hours*. Never. I doubt I will ever again. At 20, she spends most of her time indoors, reading, watching anime, drawing; indifferent to the cheap thrills, like drinking or casual sex.
I've yet to mention her appearance, because of how adorable her personality is, but she's also pretty. No runaway model, she has some facial flaws, but is naturally pretty. She has long, straight, raven hair & light blue eyes (that combination alone is a lottery win), a small face with a big round forehead, is pale, short and petite.
Sounds too ideal to be real, does she? Well, she's real. Don't trick yourself into believing that naturally pretty, intelligent, classy, worthwhile women don't exist out there: that's a cope. They exist, I met one. Obviously, only Chad will marry one like her.
The phase of the relationship we are in is "making out". She let me caress her whole neck and face area, parts of her legs for hours in a cinema and a concert we visited, later telling me she enjoyed the touches. Fifth date, I kissed her goodbye, she embraced the back of my head as I did. I never imagined experiencing anything similar, yet here I am.
I can still ruin everything and not get sex, but the feeling of being desired by a woman so precious already changed me as a person. Now, back to the topic: what made me actually more blackpilled about finally experiencing the attraction of a really wonderful woman?
The fact that even she STILL CARES ABOUT MY APPEARANCE, a lot, in the most shallow way imaginable.
See, I never commented on her appearance. Never. She knows she's pretty and many men want to jizz in her (she's even been harassed sometimes), why would I paraphrase the obvious to her? So I focussed on complimenting her thoughts, her dreams, her ambitions.
What she liked me for? Well, she definitely enjoys my erudition, our common interests, but here's the catch: she's obsessed with my height. You know the blackpill small girls crave tall men? It's 100% true. I am 6'1'' and of average build, not exceptional. But since she's a petite 5'3'' waif, I tower over her and could subdue her with one arm. And this physical fact is something she pointed out so, so often. She also complimented my wavy hair once, implying how she disliked a balding man.
So, even this angel of a woman - intelligent, classy, analytical - still openly judges men a based on their appearance. On how long some fucking bones in their legs happen to be, whether they have hair. If even *she* judges men on these trivialties so openly, how extremely shallow and purely visual must the average woman be? How can I be ever sure a woman ever likes *me*, my indeed unique mind, if there are taller, more muscular men than me with Chad faces around?
Whatever may happen in the future, I will always sympathize with incels, I will always remain blackpilled on how women truly choose their partners.
