Chapter Seventeen: Hypergamy. Hypogamy. Lift, Bro.

The blackpill. The blackpill. There was so much to learn about the blackpill.

Women practiced hypergamy. They only dated men hotter than them, richer than them, taller than them.

Men practiced hypogamy. They had to because women were the picky ones.

His thread had continued to receive replies throughout the night, but none had given him what he was looking for: a specific plan of action for a virgin loser like him to ask out a quiet girl.

Now, what he had gotten was a lot of “be confident.” What he’d read at least twenty times were the words, “be yourself!” And, of course, a few jokes about male virgins and neckbeards were thrown in for good measure. Adam was not a neckbeard. He liked anime and video games, but that was the extent of his neckbeard qualities. He wasn’t fat, had never held a katana, and he couldn’t grow a beard on his neck if he tried. Hell, he couldn’t grow one on his face. His inability to sprout facial hair gave the neckbeard insults an extra sting.

Be yourself. Be confident.

Photo by Maria Geller on Pexels.com

Adam couldn’t recall if he had ever actually done either of those things when trying to get a girlfriend. Well….he supposed he’d never really done much of anything to try and get a girlfriend. He’d tried to flirt a few times. It had been a painful level of cringe. He’d tried to make friends with women. Those friendships usually fizzled out, save for the girls from his friend group in high school. He should have tried to pair up with one of them. All of the quality women would be taken at his age. Or stretched out and used up. The blackpill told him this.

After reading all of the comments on his post, Adam had found himself ruminating on the words of poorcel. It’s over buddy boyo. It’s over buddy boyo. Buddy boyo. Over.

A quick look at the guy’s post history confirmed Adam’s suspicion that this poorcel was one of the incels. Poorcel ranted over on a sub called r/shortcels that women only cared about height.

“Height and money. They want to fuck a skyscraper with a fat wallet.”

Chad. Stacey. Becky. Normie. Volcel. Tallfag. Mentalcel. Larpers.co. Cock Carousal. Roastie. Femcel. Wurstie. Pick Me. 80/20. Blackpill. Greypill. Bluepilled. Cuck! Soyboy. Feminazi. Liberal. Volcel if you wouldn’t….Short guys really couldn’t. JBW. Just be white, bro. Lift, bro. Cope or rope. Cope then rope. I’m here, frens. I’m here.

And a part of him knew that he shouldn’t have fallen down that rabbit hole. That he shouldn’t have spent the better part of five hours losing himself in lurking. The majority of his time was spent digging through r/braincels. He wasn’t short, but he couldn’t help himself a half hour on r/shortcels. And then he was sucked into an absolute wormhole with r/justbewhite.

Something about this theory caused him to prickle. He was white and he didn’t feel like he had it especially easy.

“Mayocels don’t exist!”

“Tallfags bitchin’ about nothing. Height>face.”

“Just be white, bro. Just go to Thailand, bro.”

“Fuck all the roastie cunts who rode Chad’s cock til they hit the wall and now they need a beta bucks provider cuck to pay for their asses to get fat and the bitch’ll let you fuck her loose roast beef twice a year at most.”

His head buzzed and he shut his eyes tight.

He shut his laptop with a snap, and then took a deep breath, searching his room with his eyes. Piles of anime dvds and dirty laundry laying in heaps. Hadn’t he just cleaned? He didn’t even remember heating up the cold hot pocket that sat burnt on the floor by the plastic blue trash can.

Shoving his computer aside, he steadied himself.

It was time to go to work.

Photo by Bakr Magrabi on Pexels.com

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