An interesting thing happened to me on the NYC subway last week. It was the 6 train to be specific. Me and the lovely Vita were going home from one excursion or another when I sat down and I noticed that across from me there was a guy. A man I would describe as being “generically ugly”—a thoroughly mediocre looking bald headed white man with piggy eyes, big ears, and weird distended lips. Throughout the very long subway ride to Vita’s place, I couldn’t help noticing that this man was giving us dirty looks—and more specifically, me.

I would occasionally look up and see him glowering at me, and then averting his eyes. This repeated until we got off.

I did not say a word to him, and vice versa. But as a manosphere writer I like to think I’m capable of seeing virginal pathology and thus if I had to spitball a guess, I would assume that this man was something of a virgin with rage; glowering at me as if in disbelief that this not-so-attractive guy was capable of bagging a woman as beautiful as Vita Bathory.

I cannot vouch for why, exactly, he was so angry at me. Perhaps he was as I stated above: a virgin with rage upset at “that feel when no girlfriend”, as many men of all races and ethnicities do.

Or perhaps he was specifically angry because I, the hapa that I am, was capable of bagging a beautiful white woman and he, the angry wignat, was not capable of doing this. His bald pate and cargo pants would seem to speak to this but I don’t know for sure so I don’t want to jump to any conclusions.

Obviously we read about dorky men and their dorkiness quite a lot in this part of the internet, but it’s a bit different and much more meaningful to see it face to face in person, on a subway or anywhere else. And in doing so I learned a few things:

The first is that, angry Reddit and Sluthate diatribes aside, most incels are not going to act out upon their base, angry desires. And contrast to what leftist news rags will tell you, most of these guys are not going to go on a shooting rampage—99% of them will glower in silence and go home to tearfully masturbate.

The second takeaway from this is that: I felt pretty good about this. I like to think of myself as a nice guy who wishes everybody the best, but after spending so much of my life at the bottom of the totem pole, as an involuntary celibate (the difference between “involuntary celibate” and “incel” is the same as the difference between “men going their own way” and “MGTOW”)…yeah, it feels good to let the world know that I’m a sexually viable man and I am dedicated entirely to this one beautiful woman.

What makes it even more interesting is that, as we left the subway and we were were walking to her home, I asked Vita if she noticed the dorky wignat giving me dirty looks. And she didn’t even notice that there was a guy there at all, to say nothing of dirty looks.

I found this strange because she is usually extremely aware of her surroundings, to a much greater extent than I am myself. Often when we’re out and about, she’ll notice weird things and people much faster than I do. She is not oblivious in the slightest.

And yet she completely failed to notice this head shaved cargo pants wearing dweeb 3 feet away from her. Again, I don’t know why this is, but if I had to guess, it is because women (and in particular high value women like her), just don’t notice dorky men. Whether it be something inherent or something they learn to do, women just have this mental block with regards to low value men.

It’s as if those men exude “dork rays” that turn off a woman’s brain.

If I had to guess, her brain just shut down in the presence of this bitter and angry involuntary celibate, like something out of a Lovecraft novel (except, y’know, with hunched over weenies instead of gibbering tentacle monsters).

A lot of dorky men will use this same terminology of being “invisible to women”. It may very well be literal! Perhaps beautiful women are so used to beta orbiters kissing their asses that they mentally train themselves to compartmentalize and ignore them.

And as for whether or not that’s nature or nurture…that’s a matter of debate.