Discothèque Juliette

Shut up and dance with me.

She completed all her homework assignments with a plastic giraffe pen. I would steal something from her bedroom every morning, forcing her to call me later that day. Today I had stolen her giraffe pen. You piss me off so much. I pulled her closer and kissed her and she tried not to smile, feigning indignation. When she said that I knew I had stolen her heart. Summer would come a few weeks later and we would wordlessly part ways as separate atoms racing through the immeasurable void.

In the event that you find yourself without a social circle following your high school years (an all too common fate), the entirety of your future female connection will be sourced through online dating applications. Here more than anywhere else, your sexual value as a man is reduced to the capricious whims of distracted girls swiping through your profile in between bored glances at Netflix. If you are not photogenic, or worse, genuinely mediocre in appearance, your prospects are dismal. Tinder is the Colosseum and you are the lowly gladiator whose survival depends on appeasing the vapid egos of the patrician caste.

The matches you do get invoke a thrilling, short-lived dopamine release; that is until you view her sixth picture and discover she’s obese. Gone are the lithe, fourteen and fifteen year old blondes who pined after you in high school. The metaphysic of filth we inhabit taints their little souls with a rapid, unrelenting savagery. Your high school girlfriend, should you have been so fortuitous to have experienced young love, is now a single mother: on methamphetamines and with a tattoo reading LIVE LAUGH LOVE displayed furtively above her mons pubis.

Certain Internet forums, the names of which I am disinclined to mention, propose that men have but four bargaining chips in the sexual economy: appearance, status, wealth, and social skills in descending order of importance.

Your appearance is, more or less, at the mercy of biochemical reactions that occur before you are even born. The face, rather the unalterable geometric proportions that constitute your countenance, is irrefutably the largest determinant of your attractiveness. Euclid was a bastard.

Second only to this is height, again a factor dependent on your genes and childhood diet. Frame is the third constituent of appearance and the most readily alterable. The weight room is filled to capacity with young men, who lacking suitable facial aesthetics and heights starting with the number six, spend hours per week lifting weights in order to make amends with Nature’s cruel machinery.

Now, status, wealth, and social skills are much more nebulous concepts, not as easily quantifiable as appearance (save for wealth), and lacking all three, I am not qualified to discuss them at length. We all know of rich men with bitch Asian wives, henpecked at home and at the office, who in a last ditch act of desperation either commit suicide or flee to Thailand and spend their remaining days drinking cheap beer and sleeping with prostitutes (a form of suicide in its own right). Likewise, status is no longer a guarantee of a fulfilling sex life unless you were born into a powerful family and given the access code to the secret Illuminati Tinder app full of fifteen year old American Apparel models.

We are thus left with social skills, or ‘game’, as it is referred to in the aforementioned forums I am disinclined to mention. ‘Game’ has been the subject of many an e-book, hawked online to lonely subcontinental men lacking entirely in the other three bargaining chips. However, I will argue, social skills cannot be taught. Like appearance, your ability to navigate the intricacies of the sexual economy is largely based on early childhood experiences. Appearance and social skills go hand in hand. Beautiful people can do no wrong. This is why attractive women, though they may not deign to sleep with you, are wholly more pleasant to talk with than less attractive women.

If you were ugly as a child, you missed out on many of the formative social experiences enjoyed by your more attractive peers. You were not invited to the parties, the dances, the trips to the beach. Through no fault of your own, your exclusion from these outings ensnared you in a vicious circle: exclusion reduces your opportunity to improve your social skills, poor social skills result in your exclusion. Blizzard, realizing this troubling social trend, graciously released World of Warcraft during your adolescence, providing you with a simulacrum of community (if you rolled Alliance, stop reading).

The mass shooting is the last shocking act of post-modernity. Aside from those massacres of a sectarian nature, episodes that have become all too familiar in the West in recent years, the mass shooting represents a lashing out of the repressed violence and unfulfilled sexual desire dormant in the young men of our society. Our society, one accustomed to fictionalized representations of sex and violence via the media, is appalled to witness the fuming reaction when the two mix in real life.

Young men shoot up their schools and universities for the deceptively simple reason that they’re not getting laid. Parents and the media are swift to blame guns, video games, and a lack of proper mental health care (as if boys aren’t being prescribed enough medication already), but in reality, like all things, it comes down to sex. If a boy is sexually active, he’s not emptying a loaded magazine on his school cafeteria.

Sex serves as the ultimate demarcation of social status in early adulthood, effectively separating young men into castes based on their attractiveness. A boy with minimal sexual experience will gradually find himself unable to connect with his male peers. Social isolation ensues, and with it a slew of mental health issues. You can guess what happens next.

Were the young men of our society not so thoroughly anesthetized with pornography and electronic entertainment (arguably the two most effective forms of social control), there would be a mass shooting every day. Nobody playing League of Legends into the early hours of the morning and jerking off three times per day is killing anybody.

One cannot fault young men for dropping out of society. We are caged lab rats in Calhoun’s great behavioral sink experiment. Childhood friends will stab each other in the back for the opportunity to become some drunken floozy’s fourth sexual partner. Participating in the sexual economy yields a diminishing return; and in the majority of cases, no return at all.

39 thoughts on “Discothèque Juliette

  1. serious question, if one was an incel at 24 and had nothing going for them at the moment, should they just do steroids?

    I realize there are many factors, but really what else is there to lose.

    1. Gymceling is a dead end in my opinion. Most people date from within their social circle and its periphery. It may not be possible to acquire a large social circle at 24 (assuming out of college). I would recommend getting blood work done and then trying to raise T with hormones in that circumstance.

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  3. The spirit of Dostoevsky lives on in you. I love your writing. If I lived in the states, I’d hunt you down and buy you a beer.
    Will be reading this roll for the next while.

    Take care

  4. Beautiful prose. I very much relate to the notion of living in death that modern culture has become.

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  6. ” Nobody playing League of Legends into the early hours of the morning and jerking off three times per day is killing anybody.”

    How does Elliot Rodger fit into this theory? (Not asking critically/rhetorically, I’m sure he does somehow.)

  7. I think it’s about time that someone posts something really autistic on here about how the Rothschilds or the CFR or the Jews created this nightmare society, DELIBERATELY, in order to DEMORALIZE and ENSLAVE us SHEEPLE for ETERNITY

  8. “Were the young men of our society not so thoroughly anesthetized with pornography and electronic entertainment (arguably the two most effective forms of social control), there would be a mass shooting every day. “

  9. ” Childhood friends will stab each other in the back for the opportunity to become some drunken floozy’s fourth sexual partner”

    14th actually. Despite everything she was a nice girl but I wonder if she was worth ruining all my friendships I’d had since high school. I spent my 19th, 20th and 21st birthdays alone because I decided to fuck this girl. At least I’m not a virgin

  10. This piece resonates with me a lot, the whole part about in the absence of a social circle post-college, the way to meet the female race is through internet dating, and how shitty that is. Maybe I should hang out on campus at a large public uni to get pucci. I’m sure you do fine tho, u seem like sweetheart

    Just lift weights and learn game brah

  11. Out of all the guys who struggled getting responses and/Or dates with girls who are >5 online, 9 times out of 10, he had something wrong with him that was within his control, over/under weight, min wage job passed appropriate age, unkempt appearance, ton of badly lit selfies, etc. The 1 out of 10 exception is usually in a shitty area where men out number women 2 to 1.

  12. I was born in 1998, that first paragraph seems like complete and total fiction. Did things like that actually happen in the past? The rest rings fairly true and is probably already familiar to anybody that’s on this blog.

        1. “it” being my own experience, “it” equating to times gone by, “it” referring to things extinct.

          innocence. connections i longed for and regretfully threw away. loving relationships ravaged by pornhub and facebook. a social circle decimated by pharmaceutical opiods and Afghan heroin. the vacuous reality of daily existence. the spectre of my own mortality.

          the short blonde who put me to sleep. the tall blonde who woke me up.

          1. Can’t imagine the damage opioid/heroin epidemic has affected the East Coast. As if it wasn’t bad enough, these academics can’t seem figure out why people are opting out of pain, out of life when the answer is right in front of them.

    1. Yep. I was born in 1980 and I had the opposite reaction. The rest sounds like some sort of dystopian nightmare. No wonder kids are fucked today. I feel sorry for you. I should have done something to prevent this from happening.

      1. There was no stopping this, it’s a result of the inevitable march of technology. If somebody has to be blamed, Steve Jobs would probably be a decent candidate. Smartphones almost certainly would have become popular and all the garbage from them without him, but he’s the bastard that kicked this all off in our timeline, so it’s his fault. I just wish I had been born a few years earlier.

        1. Same, even the late 80s would have been preferable. If Steve Jobs hadn’t popularized the smartphone someone else would have. It was inevitable.

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