I only became aware of the word on the night Jessica and her girlfriends were so cruel to me. It was one of the insults they’d hurled at me after I’d confronted Jessica, my ex, outside a midtown bar. When they saw that I was annoying her, Jessica’s girlfriends drove me away with their insults. Hell, those bitches were ruthless.“Hey, leave her alone you scrawny piece of shit” said a skinny brunette with tattoos “Can’t you see she don’t want you?”
“Just fuck off bitch, you’re not wanted here,” said a stacked blonde.
“Go home and beat off, incel asshole,” a pretty black girl said.
Then Jessica used the word too. “Just leave me alone Donny, you weak incel fuck.”
I walked away sobbing, with their words and laughter ringing in my ears. I never knew women could be so cruel.
This was ten years ago. I was naïve back then and hadn’t heard the term “incel” before. When I got home, I ran a web search. My first hit explained that it is an abbreviation of “involuntary celibate” – an unattractive man who is “compelled to be celibate” due to a “lack of willing sexual partners.” My second hit defined an incel as a man who has been “forcibly excluded from the breeding pool”. The word was also listed as a derogatory term that was “often thrown at unwanted men.” Jessica, it seemed, had expanded her vocabulary since our breakup.
The bitch had friendzoned me after almost a year of dating, and her rejection had driven me crazy. In just ten months Jessica had blossomed, transforming from a shy overweight student to a confident sexual vixen. The change had blown my mind.
“I really like you Donny, I love you taking me out” Jessica had said. “I do enjoy your company. But you must realize I’m just not attracted to you. Really, I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings or have given you false hope, but I honestly see you as nothing more than a good friend of mine.”
Despite her concerned tone, I sensed a kind of glee in Jessica when she said that. Like she was enjoying the implication that she was too good for me, enjoying her power, seeing me squirm. That bitch broke my heart there and then. And later, when I couldn't let go, she stopped pretending to be concerned. My new upper dental bridge is testimony to the fact that I was broken physically as well as mentally.
At the time I was new to Manhattan and barely out of my teens. Previously I’d lived in Bayonne with my Mom and ***, almost never venturing into the big city on our doorstep. Mom worked at a diner in Jersey City, while *** was a cab driver. It was an unremarkable life, but it changed forever when my parents broke up.
It was the late summer of 2011. Mom started being around less, not coming home after work, sometimes staying away all night. When she was home, the arguments between her and *** were loud and regular. As *** later told me, Mom was “spending a lot of time” with a customer from the diner.
One day I came home from school to find *** packing his things into suitcases and boxes, while Mom sat watching him, scrolling Gawker on her phone with her pantyhose-clad legs crossed and a cigarette burning in the ashtray. The big news was that they were getting divorced.
“Hey Donny, guess what? We're moving to the big city” *** said. “NYC here we come.”
*** told me he’d gotten a job with a cab company in Inwood, and we were going to live together in a two bedroom apartment with views of the Hudson River. Both he and Mom still loved me, *** assured me, and I would be welcome to visit Mom in Bayonne anytime.
“It will be great, son” *** said. “The city that never sleeps”
I never asked *** why he had a split lip that day. Also, I never asked why it was us, not Mom, who were being forced out of the ****** home. Now, I suspect that Moms black boyfriend had a hand in persuading *** to “start life afresh” as he had put it.
Errol was his name, a bald-headed nightclub bouncer from Newark. That first evening I visited our former home in Bayonne, the journey took forever. Mom had been dressed up and ready to head out when I finally arrived around 10pm. After she left I watched TV, then went to my bedroom and fell asleep.
Around 2am I awoke to hear sounds of laughter and fumbling. Mom had returned with Errol. I heard them talking downstairs. I heard the ice machine as they fixed drinks. Then I heard the squeak of the stairs as they headed for Mom and ***’s bedroom. Then I heard the schlop, schlop, schlop sound of them fucking, the bed banging rhythmically into the wall. Their rut went on for over two hours, and I’m ashamed to admit that I jerked off twice to the sound of Mom getting pounded.
After a couple of times visiting Mom I stopped going.
They say that your teenage years are the best of your life, but not for me. I had been transferred to a rough school in Inwood that was almost 75% black, with students bussed in from the Bronx. I was skinny with buck teeth and ears that stuck out. My nickname was “Del” as I apparently looked like one of those rednecks from the movie Deliverance. I was bullied constantly.
To make things worse, I knew I had a tiny dick. I knew due to the amount of porn I watched on my computer. My cock was about three inches fully hard, and the length of a large thimble when soft. I became obsessed with my size, even purchasing a penis pump in the hope of gaining some extra length or girth. I measured my cock daily, but saw no change.
Back then I lacked any kind of confidence. I was shy and withdrawn around girls, preferring sitting in my bedroom jerking off to socializing with my classmates. It’s embarrassing to admit it but sometimes at night I would hear *** jerking off too. He never got a new girlfriend after Mom’s treachery.
Like I said, school in Inwood was hell, and I left with few qualifications. But I did have a brain, and after working my way through night school I landed a job with the Geek Squad at a Best Buy in Midtown. The salary was low, but the job allowed me to rent my own studio in Alphabet City and escape my sullen father.
With a job and my own crib, my priority was to find a girlfriend. I was horny all the time and desperately needed to get laid. Jake, a fellow Geek Squad employee, was in a similar position. Short and weedy like me, he was obsessed with the websites of male pickup artists as well as a self help portal called "You are Fabulous."
"Listen dude, there's a lot of hate out there” Jake said. “Dudes like us who don't have the muscle. Maybe don't have the looks either; we're having a hard time in life. "
“But man, according to these PUAs online, anyone can get girls as long as they follow a few simple rules” Jake said. “You gotta dress sharp, exude confidence, memorize some lines and know the game. Then you get plenty of pussy.”
“Gotta be worth trying, huh buddy?” Jake said. I nodded. I was in full agreement.
We both got smart, short haircuts and invested in silk shirts. We even tried to grow goatees. Our job with the Geek Squad meant that we met a lot of hot girls and we would use pickup lines suggested by Jake wherever possible. Neither of us, however, had much success. I tried to “exude confidence”. But there was nothing I could do about my skinny, short frame, bad teeth and protruding ears. The girls might pick up on our lines, but after a short visual appraisal they invariably rejected our advances. One haughty bitch even threatened to report Jake to his boss after he came on to her.
Then I met Jessica.
She’d come to Best Buy with a blue screen of death on her laptop. She wasn’t what you’d call attractive, not back then anyway. Jessica was pretty for sure and she had a great smile, but she suffered from acne. She was also overweight, dumpy even, and lacked confidence. But I liked what I saw, and she seemed to enjoy my flirting. She even blushed and smiled when I complimented her dress.
I saved her data and reinstalled Windows, but after that I couldn’t resist taking a peek at her personal files. She was really into Katy Perry, and had recently been to a gig at MSG.
Although I didn’t like the music, I wore a California Dreams tour T shirt the day Jessica was due to pick up her laptop
"Hey I love Katy” Jessica said. “Did you see her at the Garden? That’s awesome. I was there too!”
“Hey, I think you’ve got something on your shirt” I said, using the POA “neg” technique. Jessica looked down.
“Don’t worry, probably just a coffee stain. Your computer’s all done and you’re good to go. Just don’t spill coffee on it”
Jessica laughed.
“Hey, maybe I can take a look at your sipping technique and pass on some tips” I said. “Tell you what; let me buy you a coffee this weekend”
“Sure, I guess so, why not” Jessica said.
I silently clenched my fist in triumph.
Over coffee, she told me she was studying at FIT and lived in a studio in the West Village. Her ****** was from Long Island. She was very concerned about her weight, and had been bullied at school. Jessica had never been in a serious relationship, she said, and admitted that she lacked confidence.
"Do you think so?” she said when I told her she was hot.
Jessica allowed me to fuck her on our third date. To be honest I’d had some real anxiety about my penis size. Before getting undressed, I’d told her that I was “average or a bit below”. But she didn’t seem to mind. “It’s cute Donny, I like it” she’d said as she jerked my small penis between her finger and thumb.
It didn’t take long for me to orgasm, but she seemed to enjoy it as much as me, screaming and biting my neck as I pumped my cum into the condom.
Then started an on-off relationship. Sometimes Jessica was very sexual, urging me to give her oral after I’d finished fucking her. Other times she’d be cold, seemingly distracted. Despite her occasional icy mood, I really fell for Jessica. In my eyes she could do no wrong.
My eagerness to help led to me introducing her to Jake’s self help website. Looking back, it was greatest mistake I made. You are Fabulous may not have worked for me but it sure worked for Jessica. Boy did she become hot! In the ten months we dated, I watched her skin clear up, her weight drop dramatically and her self-confidence rocket. Jessica’s desire to “target her belly fat” with strenuous abdominal exercises meant she lost almost thirty pounds. Her big boobs now looked more prominent, oversized and pendulous, above her slimline figure.
I was thrilled that I was dating such a hot, confident babe, and I would do anything to impress her. Although we only met two or three times each month, our meetings became the centre of my calendar.
With her new-found confidence, Jessica started socializing more. She began to take dance lessons, and then go dancing at clubs with her college friends. She seemed to have less time for me. My invites to spend the night became less frequent. She always seemed to have some excuse for me not to come over.
On those final dates before I was friendzoned Jessica seemed changed somehow, happy but distracted, constantly checking her phone. That habit really got to me, her checking her messages while I was speaking to her. I didn’t want to say anything, but it really started to piss me off.
On a couple of occasions when we were out, I watched guys hit on her. One time while we were bar-hopping a big black guy asked Jessica “Hey sweetness, what are you doing with that mug?” He said it within earshot of me, like he was daring me to object. Jessica just smiled. I said nothing, but it made me uneasy.
In the end I guess the bitch just kinda realized she had gotten too good for me because in just one evening she just turned off my happiness like a tap. Just like that.
“Don’t get me wrong, I really like you Donny” Jessica said over coffee in Bagel Express. “I think we have a great relationship, and I really want us to stay friends. I know we’ve fooled around a little in the past but you don’t really turn me on. I’m sorry.”
I felt like I was on a downward elevator with a snapped cable.
“You’ve been a great friend to me” Jessica continued. “You’re sweet. I’m really sorry Donny. This may sound harsh but I don’t feel the same way about you as you do about me. I don’t like you…I don’t like you in that way If you can’t accept that, then its best we go our separate ways”
I couldn’t believe my ears. The girl I loved was describing our special nights of intimacy as “fooling around a little”. In her view our relationship had never been more than a casual thing. Now she was dumping me like unwanted trash. I just couldn’t handle it, the idea of never seeing her again. I was bitter, but what could I do?
Well, I told her that I’d be happy to stay friends. That was my first big mistake.
“Sure Jessica I’m cool with that” I said, trying to hide my anxiety.“we can still do fun things. I think we have a great time together, I like being with you. I’d be happy to stay friends. We can still stuff like meals and comedy clubs. “
“You can be like a gay friend” Jessica said.
I pretended to laugh.
Chapter Two
