I Could Have Been an Incel, Too
Technically, I was one. But not in the way that the community is considered today.
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I’ve been meaning to write this for a while.
’s recent personal account on the topic, my own writing on the Manosphere, and new efforts with my friend Stefanos, , made me feel this is the right time.
I admit it’s hard to write about one of the worst chapters in my life, especially when it comes to love and romance. But it happened.
Nearly six years. During my mid 20s. Through my last year of undergrad, grad school, and years beyond that. Nearly six years without any intimate contact with women. And it wasn’t for lack of trying.
Three mf presidential administrations. Yankees missing three postseason appearances.
Nothin. Empty. A “drought” as many men call it.
I rarely would discuss it when the topic would come up in conversation with friends because it is always worse than others’ ‘droughts.’
“Yo broo-it’s been 6 months since I last had a girl over. What was the longest for you?
“Yeah…6...”
I just never felt open to telling most people that it had been since the end of Obama’s first term since I was with a girl. It’s a hard thing for us as men to discuss for many reasons, as I’ll get into in later pieces.
It started following HS and entering college. I felt that the things I did have going for me, the things I could lean on even without presenting as the most confident guy, given insecurities hammered in by society: my humor, ability to hold conversations for hours on the phone, my wide range of cultural references, poetry, rhyme, and romance—the things that still helped me have four girlfriends to this point—seemed to become less important.
Dating apps were being developed, everyone was texting many people at once, not even committing to sit-down AIM conversations with said people. People started talking on the phone less, period.
The way I was able to get to know women over the phone and in person as initial steps to demonstrate my personality, leading to any mutual affection—the things I felt I needed to do to account for ‘missing’ the ‘standard minimum stature,’ seemed to be fleeting. Now, so much was online through screens, following screening including openly disqualifying for things like..height.
Now it became: ‘why talk when you can text?’ ‘Why dedicate time to these conversations when I could just continue whatever else I’m doing?’
By the time I finished undergrad in 2013, I seemed more detached from dating than ever before. I had already stopped seeing my on and off again love interest Melanie at the beginning of the year, finally accepting she didn’t want something serious with me. And then the deep, piercing void began.
The next 6 years would be without much physical touch from women. I could tell you the story of how many times I thought about giving up, just in life. But I would rather not do that.
Because it’s also my story of a comeback.
First I had to feel better.
I kept neat facial hear; wore better cologne. Started working out and eating better. Got new clothes that fit better. Got the rest tailored. Used Christmas money for some nice suits. Went to the barber once a month. I took a week to narrow down between dozens of therapists I found online to find the one I would be with for the nearly 9 years up to present day. Started a necessary medication regimine for my mental, physical health, that I had disregarded.
Then, I had to make a degree of compromise with the world. I tried online dating apps.
A lot of communication has shifted online. A lot of people were meeting online. That didn’t mean that I couldn’t keep myself. I could be genuine, I could adapt, and do it my way. I wasn’t going to let superficialization of communication methods change the content in how I communicated.
I dated online and occasionally still the old fashioned way-like asking out the cute barista in Spanish to indicate would could also date in Spanish, which we did.
I got ghosted. Yelled at via text when I didn’t know I did anything wrong. Had Unexpected One Night Guests (UONG)—aka my ‘one nighters’ were not my intention; I wanted extended stays. Had relationships. Had long distance 8+ month relationships, just to get ghosted. Had long term, local relationships end, got back out there, got dubbed, and then did it all over again.
AKA I was in the game. AKA I won.
Being in the game, the one I felt categorical disqualified from, meant I won. Disappointments, detours, and all.
Too many young men today are feeling like their sex and love life is some pre-determined shit at 16 years old. Like their toxic idiot friends are also the chosen ones to be on some Minority Report shit.
Spoiler alert: The kid doing locker pranks, your frat bro shaming your body count, even well-meaning friends and family, aint Tom Cruise. Rando38447 user doesn’t know your future. Your experience with women from casual dicktivities to beautiful intimacy and romance aint predetermined.
You in control, b.
But we gotta reclaim control from a narrative much bigger than us—but with none of our interests at heart.
While the term incel existed in my 20s and Reddit along with Wolf Men and Red Pill Pharma, et. Alpha, it never appealed to me. I was and still am too much of a romantic to want to read Brogan69’s vagina-hating manifesto on some subreddit to the tune of a comment section larger than my undergrad thesis. They just seemed like spaces that would make me more angry and depressed.
So my sentimental, poetic self, which some would see as soft, actually saved me. Believing in an education saved me. Having a hobbies like baseball, writing, comedy, music, radio, saved me. Having male friends interested in doing activities, eating together, laughing together, no matter what happened with my love interests, saved me.
But for those who doesn’t feel heard, and are even more detached, those who grow up in families who don’t believe in or have access to therapy, who don’t have meaningful friendships, community, or support mechanisms, these forums are a sympathetic ear.
“Hey, we’re in the same situation.”
“Hey, it’s not your fault.”
Which is a nice alternative from:
“You’re soft, a loser…too this or too that” to be attractive to any of the women that you are attracted to. Which are messages young men could absolutely hear directly in middle school, high school, and college, if not indirectly through the type of social media hyperbolic content that gets platformed.
But any supportive counter-narrative in the Manosphere quickly devolves into:
“And here’s whose fault it is. Here’s how you channel that anger.”
And we all know who ends up being the one to blame: women.
And young men some stay there. Which is dangerous enough. Harboring view that women are the source of your misery is dangerous in itself. Experiences with women from family to romantic interests and partners can indeed be traumatic. But the Manosphere blames Women with a capital W, as a unit. Essentially women become pieces only to validate you in the eyes of other men and not for the beautiful, equal, human value they offer in a relationship.
And then some become Elliot Roger.
And then some support the Elliot Roger’s of the world.
And when you add up that chart, it’s a bigger piece of the pie than we’d like to admit.
I now own that time of my life because I am not defined by it.
But it wasn’t healthy.
It left a scar and wounds I still am recovering from. To feel so distant, and sometimes blatantly rejected from the constant, innate human desire for romance, intimacy, and connection, is a problem for any man. But we must find as individuals, and as a society, healthy, supportive ways to deal with an unhealthy interim. Because involuntary celibacy aint going anywhere. It is going to be a part of life for many men, and likely, with unregulated AI being able to replicate sex and relationships, it’s only going to get worse.
We must be part of the solution by being part of an alternative sphere.
As it stands now, when it comes to lack of intimacy of all kinds, we are essentially leaving men to struggle in silence, leaving them to seek order through Manosphere chaos.