I’ve expressed before that I’m simply obsessed with any place that incels gather on the internet. For the uninitiated: an incel is short for involuntary celibate. These are generally men between the ages of sixteen and death that think they are so deformed that no one will sleep with them. Most of the ones I’ve come across have some sort of body dysmorphia because they’ve shared pictures of themselves and they look normal.
Their real problem stems from being so sure that society owes them sexual relationships that they do things like propose the idea that women convicted of crimes should be forces to have sex with them or sing the praises of women below the legal age of consent (because those women are generally too young to know what a sociopath looks like).
The shooter from a few years ago, Elliot Rodger, (I know I have to name them since it can be hard to keep up when these things seem to happen once a week) claimed to be incel in the manifesto that he wrote. Though he seems to be outside of the norm. Most of these guys are too afraid of social interaction to actually hurt anyone. They use words like “normies” or “chads” to describe the rest of us and make it a point to reject the ideas put forth by society that say personality does matter when looking for a mate.
This is, of course, why they fail. They tend to be horrible people with annoying attitudes and no real hobbies besides bitching about not being able to get their dicks wet. They will claim that it’s about more than sex only to turn around and make it all about sex. And while I’m painting them with a pretty wide brush, the ones that are simply unlucky seem to stay away from these guys.
They are pretty fascinating and I fully expect there to be some indie-style documentary on Netflix in the next few year shot by an ambitious twenty-something that plays on the sympathy of their situation.
I’d watch it.
I started this new writing project years ago I didn’t have the direction that I needed to nail down all of the idea. The protagonist was a recently murdered girl who wakes up to find herself unable to remember why she was murdered, who did it, or even who she was. She would learn over time that she was in fact still dead, but somehow also alive, and that she had family and friends who she would need to help solve that murder.
In the course of making the characters for this book I made up a boyfriend who she really didn’t know anymore. The book morphed and morphed again over the years with the character keeping her name, but that’s about it. And when the other characters changed too, the boyfriend slowly became a love interest that she wasn’t into, and more recently became the “where’s my hug” guy that befriends a high school girl that isn’t into him in the hopes of forcing her hand.
That’s where this whole incel thing started. I heard the term used to describe Rodger and realized that the term fit what I was talking about. I stalked their communities to see what they talked about and how they spoke. I won’t be dropping words like KLV (Kissless Virgin) in my story, but I wanted to immerse myself in that world so that I could understand where they were coming from.
Also, I’ve got a really bad morbid curiosity thing going. A few years ago I saw one thing on Purity Balls and basically read every scrap of article I could find on the subject and sat through a few documentaries.
So why this title and what is this blog entry about? Well, I started calling the section of Reddit where these types hang out my “bitter boy zoo”. It seemed appropriate and festive. This is me talking about a research method and taking the “long way ’round”. Research isn’t just skimming a Wikipedia page, but at the same time not everything that you find out has to be put down on the page.