The movie this clip is from, whose original French title is "Extension du domaine de la lutte", is brutally honest about inceldom from start to end. I highly recommend incels and non-incels to watch it.
Some dialogue from the movie
[from the clip above]
- Tisserand (truecel): So it's hopeless?
- main character: Of course it is. It always was. From the start. You'll never be a girl's erotic dream. Get used to it. It's not for you. Anyhow, it's too late. All your sexual failures since adolescence, the frustration dogging you since puberty, have scarred you forever. Even if you could find a woman, which I frankly doubt, it wouldn't work. It will never work. You're orphaned by the teenage loves you never had. It's already hurt you. It'll keep getting worse. An agonizing bitterness will fill your heart. There's no redemption. No release. That's how it is.
- I knew why Tisserand valued my company. I never spoke of my girlfriends or boasted about my conquests. This allowed him to deduce, correctly, in fact, that for some reason or other, I had no sex life. It lightened his load. It eased his ordeal. I remember witnessing a painful occasion when Tisserand first met Thomassen, a new recruit. Thomassen was Swedish, very tall and very well-built. You felt you were facing a superman or demigod. Thomassen shook my hand, then went to Tisserand. Tisserand stood up, saw that Thomassen was 15 inches taller, and promptly sat down, beet-red, with murder in his eyes. It was appalling. Tisserand, thank God, hadn't yet travelled with Thomassen but whenever a training tour came up, I know the idea of it ruined his sleep.
- psychologist: When did you last have intercourse?
- main character: Just over 2 years ago.
- psychologist: You see? How can you expect to enjoy life?
- I'd had a life. Hard to remember, but I once had a life. I had photos to prove it. Probably during my adolescence, or soon after. How hungry for life I was then! How full of possibilities life seemed! I might become a pop star, move to Venezuela... Odder still, I'd had a childhood. When I was seven, I played with toy soldiers on the rug. I took a keen interest in these miniature wargames. It was long ago, but I remember it. Now the water's cold. I'm far from shore. So far from shore I swim on, but each stroke takes me nearer to drowning. I'm choking. My lungs are aching. The water seems colder, more and more bitter. I'm not so young. I'll die one day. But I keep going and remember how I entered the struggle.
