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kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- May 14, 2019
Excellent post.
For myself, I (obviously) have an attraction to reading about incels, but I've never considered myself to be one psychologically or paid any mind to their writing. Incels are more than just men who are lonely or romantically challenged; they're a movement, a countercultural identity. It is a purely toxic one that does nothing to uplift them. They tend to suffer severe body dysmorphia, a pathological hatred of women. For me, I have mostly just been very passive in my life. I likely had what the world would describe as Aspergers growing up, but I was never diagnosed and I think that is a good thing; I hate how the modern world clinicalizes normal varieties of human experience. And I think that I largely outgrew it. I first outgrew it in college when I knew that I had to be proactive about meeting friends instead of taking my enjoyment in seeing the same people class after class (because that wouldn't be the case anymore), and I outgrew it again in graduate school when I was thrown into a social group with normalfaggots. They turned out to be douchebags and it made me miserable. Then I began to teach and I experienced a spiritual awakening and also felt like I aged twenty years in one. I felt like an adult, even started to feel like an old gentleman.
But I was just passive for most of my life, and most boys only learn to overcome fear of rejection and become good flirts and that sort of thing through trial and error. And with enough time these things naturally become less important to a person who doesn't obsess about them. No man approaching thirty should be regularly distressed about being single, and a person will start to feel like a monk-like acceptance of their (completely self-inflicted) situation.
I shared, in another thread, why I think I came to be so passive, and it was a very bad experience with my first/only girlfriend, and then a few sporadic disappointments after that. All subconscious.
Going off your advice, I had recently come to realize that there is a type of woman who I'd probably be happy with, and it's the sort of woman that does crafts and participates in historical reenactments, historical societies, things like that. I have an interest in traditional Southern cooking. I have an interest in quilting. I used to do these elaborate symmetrical, geometric "drawings" on graph paper as doodling in classes, and at some point I realized that my artwork was very similar to quilt patterns, just for more ornate. Quilting would be a more culturally meaningful and constructive way to do that, and I've wanted to learn a visual art/craft. I am learning to square dance. I realized that the "pioneer" kind of woman does exist, but they're going to be found at "pioneer days" events making pottery and paper for children, at contra dances, at things like that. She probably has to be fairly religious, for purposes of being like-minded about abortion and faggotry and possibly praying too, which is a concern for me as I am not a doctrinaire Christian. Only a deist and a cultural Evangelical. The culture is sick.
I used to think that being interesting was the way to compensate for being overweight (not a killer in and of itself: I have a lineman's physique, tall and broad-shouldered, if I put on muscle there are plenty of women that love bear-like men). What I came to realize was that what most people consider interesting is very narrow because most people are themselves uninteresting and uninterested in anything outside of their experience. Most people don't like music; they like a genre of music and they wear it as a fashion statement. Most people do not do crafts or play instruments and it doesn't rate any higher in their eyes if someone else does. Moreover, I came to question if I was ever really that interested in these things or if it was the self-image of being a Renaissance man that I liked. I used to be proactive, always trying new things, trying to fill my day with "productive" activities, and I can't say as I was any genuinely happier. Maybe I was just chasing after the wrong things.
When I was younger I had an overwhelming fear of being alone when my parents died, and I also wanted to have children for when they were young enough to enjoy that. They didn't push it on me; I pushed it on myself and they never understood it. I also wanted kisses and pussy. Now I don't know that the woman matters, but the kids still do, and I feel like time is just slipping away.
The two most attractive women I have known recently. One, and I don't feel I can say as much about her without power leveling, but she was a very plain young woman (notably younger than me), heavy set and had a very dry sense of humor. Only ate chicken and only ate ones she raised and killed herselves out of devotion to her anti-animal-cruelty principles. It impressed the hell out of me. She leaned socialist and could get excited over switchblades and other knives. Was awesome. I liked to imagine her as some butch farmwife with calloused hands. I felt giddy when I got to talk to her, and that stood out to me because I knew it was NOT physical attraction. The other was a Muslim woman I met, an activist type, who wore the hijab and was very sweet and feminine that is rare to see these days except among old women. She was my age and was probably the first woman in nine (?) years to give me a glowing feeling, and while we never had a formal date we had a long ride together that very much felt like one. She only courts, though, and that means only Muslims.
No you won't.
Also, gay.
