I Would Have Been an Incel
Ah incels. An always reliable and hilarious punching bag for jokes, my favorite of which is this one:
For the uninitiated, the term incel is an abbreviation for “involuntary celibates.” An article on counterhate.com: “the term incel refers to an online subculture of predominantly young, heterosexual men who believe they are unable to establish relationships. These self-proclaimed incels tend to blame society – and women in particular – for their lack of sexual or romantic experiences.” So essentially - it’s a bunch of dorks who aren’t getting laid and blaming everyone else but themselves for it. I told you - hilarious!
But of course, like most things - the internet ruined the fun. So instead of a bunch of isolated hate-nerds writing Joe Rogan fan fiction in their individual basements, these dweebs found each other and commiserated. They’re a community now. And that would be wonderful if they supported each other in healthy ways, but… yeah, have you met people? They’re the worst. These men’s groups have organized and “struck back” with online harassment campaigns and even real life violence against women. (Not so fun anymore, huh? Ol’ Party Pooper Brendan is at it again!)
It’s easy to look at incels with utter disdain. And by all means, these unfuckable venom turds deserve our utter scorn. They spread hate and make women’s lives less safe. But - as hard as this is to admit - I have so tell you people something:
If I were born in a different time, I might have been an incel.
“What? You, Brendan? You love women”! Sure… now I do. But to be honest - it was rough going for a while there. I was what they kindly referred to as a “late bloomer.” Through a combination of chubbiness, undiagnosed clinical depression, and good old fashioned Irish Catholic guilt, I didn’t feel too chuffed about myself in the romantic sphere during the entirety of my youth. I was lonely and horny like every other teenager, but I did NOT handle it well. The pattern throughout my adolescence and college years was the same. Step one: I’d become platonic friends with a girl to whom I was obviously attracted. Next, I would offer a shoulder to cry on through her emotional travails (usually caused by crappy behavior from her less-than-stellar boyfriend) while my secret love under the surface grew to volcanic proportions. Then, I would explode in some weird, intense declaration of love, sometimes in the form of a (usually catchy) song performed on acoustic guitar. Understandably overwhelmed, the girl would politely rebuff me, leading to me being angry that only assholes get girls while nice guys like me will die alone.
Sound familiar? It is the cliche story of the incel. These days, we make fun of it. But I lived it. Over and over again. And it felt like shit. To be brutally honest - if someone came along at that vulnerable time in my life and said “hey buddy - here’s someone else to blame for how you feel,” I probably would have JUMPED at that shit. Knowing how bitter I was in those days, I likely would have been on the message boards, railing against Staceys and Chads while spiraling deeper into my rage. Because I was truly angry at women for not wanting me. It’s shameful to admit it. But that doesn’t make it any less true.
This is all conjecture, of course. I didn’t go down the incel path for a couple of reasons. First, social media didn’t exist. If I wanted to find an incel community, I would have had to leave my house and meet them all at… I don’t know - the audience of the Morton Downey Jr. show?
More importantly, I found therapy. I realized that the problem was in the mirror. To be clear - I didn’t go into therapy to solve my “I’m angry at women” problem. My depression had reached a boiling point. It wasn’t just women. I was angry and sad all the time and couldn’t figure out why. Through the work of therapy, I learned that I didn’t like myself very much. I was afraid of rejection because it would invalidate my value. Slowly, I was able to be kinder and more vulnerable to myself which eventually led to being kinder and more vulnerable with women. Over time, I let go of feeling entitled to things and was more honest with myself and others. It was messy, but I got better. My relationships with women got better and I let go of a lot of the insecurities and incel energy. Also, I started playing bass in a band. Women can’t resist the bass player.
All rhythm section-related joking aside, it was an accident of history that I didn’t go down that path. I think I might have been an incel. Or at least I would have ‘read the literature’ so to speak. That’s the thing about anger - there is always fear and pain underneath. Hate groups understand this and use it for recruitment. When you’re young and feeling unlovable, acceptance and someone else to blame is awfully tempting.
“So Brendan,” you may be asking as you scroll 4Chan, “are you saying we should be kind to incels?” Kind of? I mean - yeah, making fun of people for ignorance is a good time. I’m guilty of enjoying the occasional hilariously vicious online takedown. And yes - we should stand up against hate. But we often forget that there is a wounded human being under that hate. And if we want to make the world a better place, we’re a lot more effective when we address the pain. If you didn’t read it, take a look at how comedian Sarah Silverman responded to an internet troll with compassion and what a difference it makes. As hard as it is, kindness IS the answer. Empathy beats out shame ten out of ten times.
So the next time you read something from an incel, think about a young Brendan. Maybe recognize that this is a person in pain. And then act accordingly. And get him some bass lessons STAT.
Boogie Writes is a completely independent endeavor by one hard-working funnyman trying to make his way in the world today (which takes everything you’ve got.) If you like what you read, please subscribe, support, and tell a friend! Also - do you need advice? Of course you do! Send your queries to brendan@brendanboogie.com with “Dear Boogie” in the subject and get some solid or at least passable advice!