I turned 41 recently, and I've been on here 12 months, so I've decided it's time I bit the bullet and made an inceldom discussion post. I want to lay out some of my opinions and perspectives, that are a bit different than a lot of the common orthodoxy on here, most of which is written by grieving, angry young men.
Some of this might seem inflammatory, but you will live.
The main headline points are:
1. I have never hated women
2. Wilkes McDermid vs Elliot Roger vs Christopher Swanson, and what we can learn from them.
3. Why you should never rope, and the way in which life gets better, not worse, even for an oldcel like me.
1. I have never hated women for rejecting me.
Not individual women who actually received advances from me and rejected me. And not "women" in general, either as some oppressive blanket force of nature, or as some organized conspiracy against me.
The only explanation I can give is I have always internalized and owned the failure of my attempts to seek sex or romance. I don't seem to have what women want, and that must mean there's something wrong with me, or something that's not quite enough about me.
That's a very hard thing for a teenager or a young man in his early 20s to be confronted by. It is devastating and the weight of it can be at times crushing. But it's never made me angry. An angry reaction just doesn't make sense to me. A simple thought experiment is helpful here: If someone I felt zero attraction for wanted me, and I was oblivious to that or actually said no to it, would it be fair that they were angry at me for not feeling what I don't feel?
In saying this, I was pretty shy as a young person and I don't think I was ever very competent at meeting new people and approaching the possibility of new things openly. So all of the actual rejections I can remember from my youth, were women I met, and lived or worked or studied around. And over a period of time I convinced myself she was wonderful, and I wanted her, and I loved her. This would include a lot of daydreams and fanciful imagination about what a perfect future with me and her together might look like.
And then like a fool I would tell her how I felt, hoping that she felt the same and was waiting for me to say something. Invariably she didn't feel the same way about me, and didn't want any of that.
The first one of those, took me about 6 months to get over. The second one took me about 4 years, that was the worst one. I really thought she was pretty special, and having seen she existed I didn't think I could live without her. Both of these were during my university years. Afterwards, I learned to test the waters with women but never again made that mistake of getting ahead of things and falling into unrequited love.
Prior to that time, High School gave me a bit of a premonition that sex and the attention and desire of women might not happen for me. I saw that first, around the ages of 15 or 16, one or two boys were talking about having girlfriends and/or having sex. Then quite a few were talking about it. Then a majority seemed to be having these experiences, and I was an outlier in not having them. But I had good friends at high school, and I had the crutch of supportive parental expectations that I was one of the "bright" kids and I would move away and study and some kind of bright future would happen to me.
So I was never embarrassed, humiliated, cheated or wronged by women. They were just unobtainable, and that made me sad, not angry.
2. Wilkes McDermid vs Elliot Rodger vs Christopher Swanson, and what we can learn from them.
I just straight up don't like Elliot Rodger. So there.
He was a nasty, self-obsessed, narcissistic killer. He wrote about his feelings well but i find nothing to admire in his attitude that he is owed certain things, and it is reasonable for him to hurt and kill people at random as some kind of justice for his situation. Perhaps somebody whose dog died should have punished him with a bullet? Perhaps somebody who had their BMW repossessed by the finance company should have punished him with a bullet?
He was a good looking, spoiled child. He showed precious little insight into how the world is or the reasons why. His message of blame and recrimination and random extreme violence is not helpful to anyone.
Wilkes McDermid is a much better "Saint" for inceldom. When I first read his final blog https://wilkes888.wordpress.com/2013/02/08/my-final-blog-entry-love-you-all/ it was a great moment, seeing ideas similar to my own written so well.
If you're not familiar with his thesis, the core of it is that women are genetically programmed to seek out high-quality males to mate with. He identified 3 main selection criteria, and theorized that you need at least two of the three to succeed:
1. Height
2. White (or black)
3. Wealth, or some other manifestation of power.
Personally I think his insistence on these 3 and only these 3 is a bit misguided and there is in reality a smorgasbord of desirable male traits that women will choose from. But I think he is spot on in saying that women are driven by primordial evolutionary drivers when they apply the criteria they apply in sorting males by quality and identifying them as worthy or unworthy.
He was also such a gentleman, in the way he tried to absolve his female friendzoners of any blame or guilt by explicitly saying that he understands this is just a natural behaviour that humans do. I admire that.
The fact that he was a popular and liked guy, with a big social circle and successful in other fields, and yet still incel, was something more people on here should reflect on IMHO. The way that he kept his struggles largely to himself, and looked after his friendships, and had a proper sense of adult behaviour and manners, and achieved most of his goals in life, is something that I admire. The way he owned his issues like a man, is something I admire. And while I wish he hadn't jumped, I admire the resolution with which he decided to do it, and did it.
And then there is Christopher Swanson, a 40yo high school teacher oldcel whose spectacular and catastrophic downfall should serve as a warning. About what happens if you fail to learn the real lessons.
He failed to experience the devastation of missing out on young love, in the way that Elliott Rodger fully experienced it.
And he failed to learn the real lesson that Wilkes McDermid learned from his experiences and his research: that beyond a certain point your rejection is an entirely predictable, natural process, not something that should catch a 40yo grown man by surprise and spin him out of control.
So by failing to learn those lessons, he caught a bluepilled deluded oneitis for a 17yo schoolgirl in one of his classes, and that led to him being brushed off by her, and struck off as a teacher, and humiliated, and eventually to suicide.
3. Why I haven't followed any of those infamous, dead incels
Almost all incel writing has a common problem. Men don't talk, or write, about their feelings, until they're really REALLY fucked up about something. Then they pour their little hearts out in some mega grief fuelled meltdown. So a lot of incel writing, comes from the heat of the moment and it reads like inceldom is all there is. ER's manifesto is certainly like that. Swanson's website is so stricken with grief that all of his success in his career is merely a sick footnote to the real story; that this dumb teenager didn't want him.
That's a terrible role model for young virgins. Because inceldom really isn't the only thing in your life, and convincing yourself that it is, is an incredibly destructive thing to do.
I've been very fortunate for a few reasons. One, the time I attempted suicide, failed dismally because the act of doing the cutting was far too painful to persist with. But standing right on the edge of the abyss and making that decision to step off, is a moment of finality you can't understand unless you've experienced it. Living after that does show you the value of things differently.
I've also been lucky to have good family around me. I'm pretty close to my sister and I love being uncle to her little children. They make me feel like whatever may happen to me, there is some small legacy of me going into the future in them. One of them has even learned to read music because I planted the idea in them and showed them some basics.
I'm lucky teenaged oneitis didn't destroy my ability to keep performing at school and get my degree. Today I'm reasonably competent in my profession and I'm pretty good at teaching young grads the ropes. They seem to appreciate it and my employers do too. That's a real source of personal validation. If I was my age and flipping burgers I doubt I'd be as happy as I am.
I really don't know if sex drive diminishes with age, or if perspective just improves. There was a wonderful moment a few years ago, I can remember it. I woke up on a Saturday morning, and there was sun streaming in my window, and I had a bunch of things planned that I wanted to get up and do. And it really hit me: I don't feel totally crushed and miserable by my inceldom. Life just is what it is, and right now it feels ok. That was a good feeling.
Of course it's not a total panacea, and there are still suifuel moments that remind me strongly of all the things I don't have and threaten to take me back into the grief state. But you get better at coping with that stuff, and you get better at avoiding and shielding yourself from stuff you know is harder to cope with. I don't go to town on Saturday night. I don't go to dinner with couples. I don't go to weddings if I can avoid it.
That feeling of peace, is why I haven't roped and I honestly don't believe I will. There will always be a bit of sadness there, that I didn't have that whole life I imagined I wanted. But there's good stuff too in spite of that. There's enough good stuff that the sadness is tolerable.
4: a piece of unsolicited advice.
I'm old enough that my friends are fucking up their marriages and getting divorced. It is fascinating to see the divorcee dating phenomenon. There is one clear lesson from it. I'm not getting involved because little has changed except for the details of what people make small talk about. Women don't lower their standards, and they don't settle. What this means, it means two things.
The cock carousel being followed by resignation and beta burning, is cope. Women don't settle for beta bux, they are genetically programmed to seek whatever their concept of Chad is, that doesn't change.
But this also means, that if you do manage to meet someone in later life who seems into you, it's probably real and you should go for it IMHO. All the advice you get on here about betabuxx and roast beef and the cock carousel from 16yo "truecels" is terrible advice and it is ignorant advice. A bunch of my university friends lost their virginities in their 20s and they are happy today. One of my high school buddies fucked heaps of women at university, married the girl of his dreams, and that lasted 4 years. Today he's married to someone uglier but cooler and he's happy.
Unicorns exist, and you should always remain open to possibilities. While keeping your expectations firmly based in Wilkes McDermid's understanding of the blackpill, that women are generally looking for certain things, and it's no secret what those are.
Some of this might seem inflammatory, but you will live.
The main headline points are:
1. I have never hated women
2. Wilkes McDermid vs Elliot Roger vs Christopher Swanson, and what we can learn from them.
3. Why you should never rope, and the way in which life gets better, not worse, even for an oldcel like me.
1. I have never hated women for rejecting me.
Not individual women who actually received advances from me and rejected me. And not "women" in general, either as some oppressive blanket force of nature, or as some organized conspiracy against me.
The only explanation I can give is I have always internalized and owned the failure of my attempts to seek sex or romance. I don't seem to have what women want, and that must mean there's something wrong with me, or something that's not quite enough about me.
That's a very hard thing for a teenager or a young man in his early 20s to be confronted by. It is devastating and the weight of it can be at times crushing. But it's never made me angry. An angry reaction just doesn't make sense to me. A simple thought experiment is helpful here: If someone I felt zero attraction for wanted me, and I was oblivious to that or actually said no to it, would it be fair that they were angry at me for not feeling what I don't feel?
In saying this, I was pretty shy as a young person and I don't think I was ever very competent at meeting new people and approaching the possibility of new things openly. So all of the actual rejections I can remember from my youth, were women I met, and lived or worked or studied around. And over a period of time I convinced myself she was wonderful, and I wanted her, and I loved her. This would include a lot of daydreams and fanciful imagination about what a perfect future with me and her together might look like.
And then like a fool I would tell her how I felt, hoping that she felt the same and was waiting for me to say something. Invariably she didn't feel the same way about me, and didn't want any of that.
The first one of those, took me about 6 months to get over. The second one took me about 4 years, that was the worst one. I really thought she was pretty special, and having seen she existed I didn't think I could live without her. Both of these were during my university years. Afterwards, I learned to test the waters with women but never again made that mistake of getting ahead of things and falling into unrequited love.
Prior to that time, High School gave me a bit of a premonition that sex and the attention and desire of women might not happen for me. I saw that first, around the ages of 15 or 16, one or two boys were talking about having girlfriends and/or having sex. Then quite a few were talking about it. Then a majority seemed to be having these experiences, and I was an outlier in not having them. But I had good friends at high school, and I had the crutch of supportive parental expectations that I was one of the "bright" kids and I would move away and study and some kind of bright future would happen to me.
So I was never embarrassed, humiliated, cheated or wronged by women. They were just unobtainable, and that made me sad, not angry.
2. Wilkes McDermid vs Elliot Rodger vs Christopher Swanson, and what we can learn from them.
I just straight up don't like Elliot Rodger. So there.
He was a nasty, self-obsessed, narcissistic killer. He wrote about his feelings well but i find nothing to admire in his attitude that he is owed certain things, and it is reasonable for him to hurt and kill people at random as some kind of justice for his situation. Perhaps somebody whose dog died should have punished him with a bullet? Perhaps somebody who had their BMW repossessed by the finance company should have punished him with a bullet?
He was a good looking, spoiled child. He showed precious little insight into how the world is or the reasons why. His message of blame and recrimination and random extreme violence is not helpful to anyone.
Wilkes McDermid is a much better "Saint" for inceldom. When I first read his final blog https://wilkes888.wordpress.com/2013/02/08/my-final-blog-entry-love-you-all/ it was a great moment, seeing ideas similar to my own written so well.
If you're not familiar with his thesis, the core of it is that women are genetically programmed to seek out high-quality males to mate with. He identified 3 main selection criteria, and theorized that you need at least two of the three to succeed:
1. Height
2. White (or black)
3. Wealth, or some other manifestation of power.
Personally I think his insistence on these 3 and only these 3 is a bit misguided and there is in reality a smorgasbord of desirable male traits that women will choose from. But I think he is spot on in saying that women are driven by primordial evolutionary drivers when they apply the criteria they apply in sorting males by quality and identifying them as worthy or unworthy.
He was also such a gentleman, in the way he tried to absolve his female friendzoners of any blame or guilt by explicitly saying that he understands this is just a natural behaviour that humans do. I admire that.
The fact that he was a popular and liked guy, with a big social circle and successful in other fields, and yet still incel, was something more people on here should reflect on IMHO. The way that he kept his struggles largely to himself, and looked after his friendships, and had a proper sense of adult behaviour and manners, and achieved most of his goals in life, is something that I admire. The way he owned his issues like a man, is something I admire. And while I wish he hadn't jumped, I admire the resolution with which he decided to do it, and did it.
And then there is Christopher Swanson, a 40yo high school teacher oldcel whose spectacular and catastrophic downfall should serve as a warning. About what happens if you fail to learn the real lessons.
He failed to experience the devastation of missing out on young love, in the way that Elliott Rodger fully experienced it.
And he failed to learn the real lesson that Wilkes McDermid learned from his experiences and his research: that beyond a certain point your rejection is an entirely predictable, natural process, not something that should catch a 40yo grown man by surprise and spin him out of control.
So by failing to learn those lessons, he caught a bluepilled deluded oneitis for a 17yo schoolgirl in one of his classes, and that led to him being brushed off by her, and struck off as a teacher, and humiliated, and eventually to suicide.
3. Why I haven't followed any of those infamous, dead incels
Almost all incel writing has a common problem. Men don't talk, or write, about their feelings, until they're really REALLY fucked up about something. Then they pour their little hearts out in some mega grief fuelled meltdown. So a lot of incel writing, comes from the heat of the moment and it reads like inceldom is all there is. ER's manifesto is certainly like that. Swanson's website is so stricken with grief that all of his success in his career is merely a sick footnote to the real story; that this dumb teenager didn't want him.
That's a terrible role model for young virgins. Because inceldom really isn't the only thing in your life, and convincing yourself that it is, is an incredibly destructive thing to do.
I've been very fortunate for a few reasons. One, the time I attempted suicide, failed dismally because the act of doing the cutting was far too painful to persist with. But standing right on the edge of the abyss and making that decision to step off, is a moment of finality you can't understand unless you've experienced it. Living after that does show you the value of things differently.
I've also been lucky to have good family around me. I'm pretty close to my sister and I love being uncle to her little children. They make me feel like whatever may happen to me, there is some small legacy of me going into the future in them. One of them has even learned to read music because I planted the idea in them and showed them some basics.
I'm lucky teenaged oneitis didn't destroy my ability to keep performing at school and get my degree. Today I'm reasonably competent in my profession and I'm pretty good at teaching young grads the ropes. They seem to appreciate it and my employers do too. That's a real source of personal validation. If I was my age and flipping burgers I doubt I'd be as happy as I am.
I really don't know if sex drive diminishes with age, or if perspective just improves. There was a wonderful moment a few years ago, I can remember it. I woke up on a Saturday morning, and there was sun streaming in my window, and I had a bunch of things planned that I wanted to get up and do. And it really hit me: I don't feel totally crushed and miserable by my inceldom. Life just is what it is, and right now it feels ok. That was a good feeling.
Of course it's not a total panacea, and there are still suifuel moments that remind me strongly of all the things I don't have and threaten to take me back into the grief state. But you get better at coping with that stuff, and you get better at avoiding and shielding yourself from stuff you know is harder to cope with. I don't go to town on Saturday night. I don't go to dinner with couples. I don't go to weddings if I can avoid it.
That feeling of peace, is why I haven't roped and I honestly don't believe I will. There will always be a bit of sadness there, that I didn't have that whole life I imagined I wanted. But there's good stuff too in spite of that. There's enough good stuff that the sadness is tolerable.
4: a piece of unsolicited advice.
I'm old enough that my friends are fucking up their marriages and getting divorced. It is fascinating to see the divorcee dating phenomenon. There is one clear lesson from it. I'm not getting involved because little has changed except for the details of what people make small talk about. Women don't lower their standards, and they don't settle. What this means, it means two things.
The cock carousel being followed by resignation and beta burning, is cope. Women don't settle for beta bux, they are genetically programmed to seek whatever their concept of Chad is, that doesn't change.
But this also means, that if you do manage to meet someone in later life who seems into you, it's probably real and you should go for it IMHO. All the advice you get on here about betabuxx and roast beef and the cock carousel from 16yo "truecels" is terrible advice and it is ignorant advice. A bunch of my university friends lost their virginities in their 20s and they are happy today. One of my high school buddies fucked heaps of women at university, married the girl of his dreams, and that lasted 4 years. Today he's married to someone uglier but cooler and he's happy.
Unicorns exist, and you should always remain open to possibilities. While keeping your expectations firmly based in Wilkes McDermid's understanding of the blackpill, that women are generally looking for certain things, and it's no secret what those are.
