ever notice how oldcels don't know any females or even have friends?
no one wants an oldcel in their life.
no one wants an oldcel in their life.
Low IQcel. Inceldom is about celibacy. I'm a truecel and yes I have friends because I'm not an aspie faggot.
I never knew females or had any friends at any age.
if you dont have friends it doesnt make you a true incel its makes you a social awkward sprerg volcel
Baldcels are the truest incels out there.
that's bullshit, because balding men aren't even human so they can't be incel.
N
I agree these teenagers have not suffered anywhere near the same as oldcels they are not even qualified to call themselves incel
That's true, i was wrong.
Try being balding as a teenager and experience real pain.
So it's a competition? An incel is an incel.
@FeminismsCancer is one of my fav wizardcels here
I had a fairly active social life and a good amount of friends in my teens and early 20s. Since then not so much.
Now at age 31, I don't have any close friends. Most normies my age have gotten married and are starting families. Most incels my age are either workaholics or have basically become hikikomori. That and a good chunk of incels commit suicide before hitting 30. So there aren't really many social opportunities for a 31 year old incel like myself.
Sure, there are meetup groups for older people...but the majority of them will be married. Obviously there would be some single and incel guys ...but I wouldn't have much in common with them.
And hanging out with much younger people is awkward for all parties involved. They're college aged and your age starts with a "3". I went to a couple of parties last year with my college aged coworkers and I felt extremely self-conscious about my age the entire time.
Socially speaking, theres no place for an old incel like myself.
58 year old checking in
I am a youngcel yet I don't know any gf'able females nor do I have friends.
78 years old.
you're completely right TBH
the only reason I have a social life, which is mostly just young black/hispanic guys who play ball (lol) or older white guys in their 40s/50s (no idea why this age group has so many players)
is because i'm really tall and have pretty good ball skills, plus i'm at my athletic peak
completely worthless for women but is really good validation
but ball is pretty fun and is good exercise
Salute.
I'm a KHHV WWI veteran. It's ovER for me.
He's joking.
Legit. Oldcels areover. We are just waiting to die.
Jfl at governments not offering euthanasia for males past 30. Zero point of our lives.
And not surprisingly suicide rates skyrocket after 35.
Jfl at living past 30.
Fml I am almoat there. How do you even cope with it?
There is NOTHING worse than being old useless no value person.
Literally no one wants you for anything.
When you are olsceling you better make sure you are top 10% money or at least 20% top looks to even be alive.
Its over.
I hope to be living away from civilization or dead by my 40th birthday. Any other scenario would be intolerable.
yup oldcels have it the hardest
C
What age is official oldcel status?
N
I'm mid 40s and I think about roping constantly.
Most youngcels turn into fakecels
25 is imo getting there.
26 is like watching the nuclear explosion getting your way
27-28 is over tier.
37, no female friends, one male friend from school I am friends with, but we only see each other once a year even though i'm only 15 minute drive away, he's got wife/3kids, don't want to bother him more
that's the trucel life
that's the trucel life
But they're the grandpa incels
Dont want that truecel life fuck.
H
I'm 34 and in the same sinking boat as Ryo_Hazuki and refmd. No friends left anymore really and life keeps getting worse.
That's because most aren't really fucked they just haven't caught their break yet. It's so obvious sometimes too.
I
Just because you have the illusion that youngcels have plenty of time to turn things around doesn't mean it's true
I'm a couple years behind you. Have only three "friends" in my life if you can even call them that:
- A guy who lives 10,000 miles away so there's no chance to actually hang out with him
- A former co-worker in her 60s who only emails me to bitch about her work- and health-related problems
- A former co-worker in her 40s who has lunch with me once a year and never emails me throughout the year.
I haven't had a real friend, that I actually hang out with regularly, since I was 15.
This thread just keeps onngiving.more and more.sui fuel. A never ending gift.
D
I would say 30
This. I may only be 20, but I can't see myself NOT being an incel. If for all 20 years of my life i've received next to no attention from the opposite gender, why would the next 20 years be any different?
How could it be any different? I'll still be the same me that women despite.
S
I have far fewer friends than i did in my early 20s. Almost all my friends are married and have kids.
Im lucky insofar as i have a few remaining close friends though.
Im lucky insofar as i have a few remaining close friends though.
As a small preface, I would never denigrate the misery of the younger men here who are truly repulsive. After all, the truly ugly swear themselves to the tribe of the unlovable with his very first breath. Sure, you may not have the ability to speak the moment you enter into the world,but Mother Nature takes the oath on your behalf. Every moment thereafter thereafter is just a consummation of that original, unbreakable pledge. Age thirty-eight now, I was also hideous at twenty-eight, at eighteen, and so on. The looks of revulsion in women's eyes is just as severe now in middle age as it was in adolescence.
Having said that, there is a special kind of pain reserved for the older among us. When still young, you still harbor the tiniest hope. It's silly to do so, of course. The hatred and disgust you see in the eyes of women at the age of eighteen should be more than enough to convince you you have no right to hope, that holding on to so much a spark of it is almost criminal for something whose proper place is in the dark. But you have that illusion of time. You still have an entire life ahead of you and maybe, just maybe, there may come one day one a woman will respond to your friendly smile with one of her own rather than a grimace. It's not too late for some miracle, for the laws of Nature to be suspended for just a moment. You may still go the the dead a virgin, untouched and unwanted but you continue to live for the tiniest possibility you'll receive that genuine smile: something nice to dream about when you're dead in your grave.
But the years pass and though hope may spring eternal, its flow slows to a trickle. It still exists, but it's no longer sufficient to sustain you. A couple of drops on the tongue is something rather than nothing but the hour is growing short and it the immediacy of the situation demands a certain degree of honesty. Driven into the desert, a couple of drops won't prevent you from succumbing to thirst.
Old now, you watch your friends celebrate their weddings, the birth of their next child and, much to your horror, you look at the thing in the mirror and realize it's never so much as held a woman's hand or shared a kiss. The experiences they took for granted as young adults are the same that still seem impossible to you as your hair turns gray and wrinkles begin to crease your face. It had always been too late for you, of course, but now Time has at long last wrapped its bony claws around your neck and choked the horrible admission from your throat.
The long dream of youth is coming to a close and you watch with anxiety as the hands of the clock creep closer to midnight. No more time for comforting fantasies, no way to justify the hope that kept you alive for so many years.
It's too late for glittering illusions and all after decades your slight of hand finally fails you. Old age murders every last one of your glamours, leaving the abomination alone with the realization that the monstrous ghoul in the looking glass had been him all along.
Dying without ever having been loved or desired, something unthinkable for actual human beings who were born to live as the children of men were meant to, is the only mystery reserved for monsters. Wicked Time is the hierophant that eventually, after years upon years of instruction, finally provides them the only initiation they ever had any reason to hope for.
Having said that, there is a special kind of pain reserved for the older among us. When still young, you still harbor the tiniest hope. It's silly to do so, of course. The hatred and disgust you see in the eyes of women at the age of eighteen should be more than enough to convince you you have no right to hope, that holding on to so much a spark of it is almost criminal for something whose proper place is in the dark. But you have that illusion of time. You still have an entire life ahead of you and maybe, just maybe, there may come one day one a woman will respond to your friendly smile with one of her own rather than a grimace. It's not too late for some miracle, for the laws of Nature to be suspended for just a moment. You may still go the the dead a virgin, untouched and unwanted but you continue to live for the tiniest possibility you'll receive that genuine smile: something nice to dream about when you're dead in your grave.
But the years pass and though hope may spring eternal, its flow slows to a trickle. It still exists, but it's no longer sufficient to sustain you. A couple of drops on the tongue is something rather than nothing but the hour is growing short and it the immediacy of the situation demands a certain degree of honesty. Driven into the desert, a couple of drops won't prevent you from succumbing to thirst.
Old now, you watch your friends celebrate their weddings, the birth of their next child and, much to your horror, you look at the thing in the mirror and realize it's never so much as held a woman's hand or shared a kiss. The experiences they took for granted as young adults are the same that still seem impossible to you as your hair turns gray and wrinkles begin to crease your face. It had always been too late for you, of course, but now Time has at long last wrapped its bony claws around your neck and choked the horrible admission from your throat.
The long dream of youth is coming to a close and you watch with anxiety as the hands of the clock creep closer to midnight. No more time for comforting fantasies, no way to justify the hope that kept you alive for so many years.
It's too late for glittering illusions and all after decades your slight of hand finally fails you. Old age murders every last one of your glamours, leaving the abomination alone with the realization that the monstrous ghoul in the looking glass had been him all along.
Dying without ever having been loved or desired, something unthinkable for actual human beings who were born to live as the children of men were meant to, is the only mystery reserved for monsters. Wicked Time is the hierophant that eventually, after years upon years of instruction, finally provides them the only initiation they ever had any reason to hope for.
T
Older guys can still get younger women.
really?
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