Showing posts with label celibacy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label celibacy. Show all posts

Monday, December 27, 2021

Microstory 1786: Virgin By Nature

I accepted long ago that I wasn’t ever going to find myself a partner, or even just a warm body for the night. I was doomed from the start, and I’ve been branded an incel because of it. It’s true that I’m what one might call a virgin—though, that is an outdated term—and it’s true that it’s not by choice, but that doesn’t mean that I blame others for my situation. This is all me, and I take ownership of it. I wish there was a term for people like me. Since that word has been attributed to terrorists, rapists, and mysoginists, I’ve tried to just call myself a loser. It’s not a particularly favorable term either, but at least it distances me from those violent and aggressive men who believe the world, and its women, owe them something. I am a socially awkward extrovert. Yes, you read that right. I love putting myself out there, and meeting new people. I’m just incredibly bad at it. I’ve tried to take seminars, and watch tutorials, but none of them has worked. Many of them come off just as angry and entitled as the incel movement. I don’t know how to talk to others, no matter how badly I want to, or how hard I try. I keep saying the wrong things, and making myself look like an idiot. I always look weird, and make people uncomfortable. So what exactly is my problem, and is there anything I can do to fix it? I don’t think so, but even if I were better at communicating with people, I’ve realized that it doesn’t really matter. I’m traditionally unattractive. Yeah, I may be able to alleviate that a little with better hair, and hipper clothes. I may even be able to learn to express myself appropriately. That’s just the first filter, though. There are plenty of people in this world who are willing to look past looks, or are just as awkward as me, and could probably deal with it. But they won’t get past my other filters.

What is a filter? Well, people use them all the time when forming relationships. They don’t walk around with a sign hanging from their necks that announce that they’re available, and then just accept the first person who responds positively. Once they find someone they’re attracted to in some manner, they look for common ground. What do they both like to do, or what aspects of their personalities complement each other? Do they get along, or do they have too many differences? If those incompatibilities add up and overweigh the things they like about each other, the relationship either ends healthily, or becomes toxic. Unfortunately for me, those incompatibilities are pretty much guaranteed to be there from the start. The biggest filter is drug use. I can’t be with someone who does recreational drugs, including alcohol. I can’t stand drunks, and while I support recovering addicts, I still can’t relate to them, and I don’t know how to help them. That right there wipes most people off the board. Some people are sober because of religion, but I’m a staunch atheist, so that wipes off most of who’s left, because I can’t stand those people either. I would have to find a nonreligious teetotaler who likes to dance all night, and even listen to techno off the dance floor. That person just doesn’t exist, especially not when you account for other filters, like gender, relative age, and sexuality. Because the most important filter—the only one that’s necessary for me to remain alone—is other people’s filters. I may find the perfect girl, but if she doesn’t like me, it can’t go anywhere. It won’t even begin. That’s what truly keeps me from finding a soulmate. I don’t want to be with someone who would want to be with someone like me.

Wednesday, January 23, 2019

Microstory 1023: Arend

Death is nothing new to me. Some people never get over it, but others kind of become immune. I’ve lost literally everyone in my family, except maybe a few second cousins that I’ve never met. My father to cancer, my mother to a mining accident, my big sister to war, my little sister to before she was even born. Two of my grandparents were dead before I was old enough to remember them, and the other two passed shortly after. I kept being passed around to uncles and aunts until all of those were exhausted too. From suicide to murder, it’s all happened to me. They call it the Eagle family curse, and it’s been haunting me my entire life. I eventually ran out of relatives, and had to get myself emancipated. It wasn’t even that hard. I didn’t have to do much to prove that I could support myself. All those family deaths left me several inheritances, and a couple of life insurance payouts. If I weren’t so careless, I could survive a normal person’s lifespan without having a single job, but I figured I wouldn’t last that long anyway. For the longest time, I would wait for the day the curse came for me. But then I realized that it wouldn’t be a very good curse if it wiped us out completely. An evil witch, or a dark wizard, from centuries ago would have programmed a sole survivor, so the bloodline could continue. I’m the lucky duck for this generation. I’ve never tried to kill myself, or anything, but a couple years ago, I started testing my limits. I became one of those daredevils you hear about that don’t record their stunts, or even get other people to watch. I tried all sorts of drugs, often without knowing what I was taking, and picked fights with people twice my size. Just like I thought, nothing would kill me. I’m invincible until I have at least one kid, which of course, I never plan on doing. I turned eighteen a couple months before Viola died, which brings us to the one significant experience I shared with her.

My self-destructive behavior has made me not so popular amongst my classmates. Not even the other wastoids want me around, which means I don’t have anyone that I can trust. It was Viola who drove me to and from the procedure. Well, she tried anyway. You have to be eighteen years old to get a vasectomy, but the fact that I set the appointment for my birthday, and hadn’t ever shown the maturity to make any healthy decision before, no doctor would agree to do it. I tried half the surgeons in Mineral County, but those sneaky snakes all play golf together, or whatever, so I never stood a chance. But Viola was a trouper. She kept calling for appointments, and driving me to the ones that at least agreed to a consult. In the end, I never got it done, but now I don’t think I have to, thanks again to Viola Woods. I don’t think she ever believed that my family had a curse, but it wasn’t in her nature to argue with people’s convictions. If I couldn’t get a vasectomy, than there was really only one option for me, according to her. I just had to never have sex for the rest of my life. Sure, I could try to just be celibate, but one drunken night sitting next to a pretty stranger at a bar, and I’ve just doomed an innocent child to go through what I did. I had never really put much faith in religion, but it was my last resort. After high school, I’m going to join a monastery. Being around other people who are in an exclusive relationship with God is the only way I’ll be able to get through it without screwing it up. I don’t know why, but Viola planned it all out for me. They’re already expecting me this summer. Here’s a picture of the place; isn’t it lovely? Maybe there isn’t really a curse at all, but if there’s even a chance it’s true, they are the only people I can trust to help. The only question now is, what am I going to do with all this money? Viola would know.