Hey there, I’m an uncle to a soon to be 15 year old niece who recently got into sewing and has a starter sewing machine. (Hope it’s ok that I post here!)

I want to get her something for her birthday next weekend that has to do with sewing or similar since that’s what she’s expressed interest in. She’s never really had hobbies before but seems genuinely interested in modifying clothes and up-cycling (I think that’s the term) thrift finds.

Can someone help me with ideas on what I could get her? She is relatively new to things and she lives in Texas (US).

I’m ok spending up to $150. Could go higher as I’ll just split costs with her dad or grandparents if the gift is excellent.

Update: thank you all for the thoughtful suggestions! tildes always comes through with advices/tips/ideas for me! i ended up buying Gingher 8” Fabric Scissors, Kai seam snips (detail scissors?), Clover seam ripper, 3-pack of pink Singer tape measures, and a grumpy cat tote bag. i think i’m going to take her out to the thrift store to grab some clothes she can work on too. next year if shes still into it i think me and her dad will go in on a nice sewing machine someone mentioned in the comments. thanks again everyone!

Hi Tilderinos,

I've got to ship some wrought iron to a blacksmith in another country to be reforged and properly heat treated. I've worked with them before and they're far better than anything that is available in my country.

They've asked me to ship the pieces in a wooden box, that is not real wood (I don't know the English term for it). It must be processed wood, the names in our hardware stores are multiplex and plywood underlayment etc. This is to avoid customs issues with untreated wood.

I have been advised to make the sides of the box multiplex, with underlayment for the top and the bottom. I have my dimensions, but I have never done a woodworking project before and I am nervous the men in the hardware store will laugh at me for my inexperience.

I have some basic questions like:

• Is it okay to go to the hardware place and ask them to cut my pieces to size?

• The box must hold together fine, but it doesn't need to be beautiful or lasting. I am thinking of putting the top and bottom on like the back of an IKEA wardrobe, with tacks, but my wife says hiring a staple gun might save a lot of time. Would a staple gun be too aggressive and potentially wreck the rather soft treated wood?

• Lastly... Could someone just reassure me this will be fine? I associate woodworking as a very masculine 'father' skill and I did not have one of those. I have very poor spatial awareness and my wife is the furniture assembler in the house, so she will be helping me, but this is my first time trying this craft that I find very intimidating.

Thank you for any input anyone is able to provide!

So I know that house inspectors only look at surface things. In the UK it seems like structural stuff are checked by professionals before a house sale. In Canada what are they called?

In buying older houses, I would want to evaluate how much I will expect to spend on things like well, septic, roof. But I also want evaluation on if this is a money pit with foundation, structural, or water issues that can't be fixed.

Like @Captcha_Code, I've tried calling structural engineering firms that seemed confused or give $5000 just to take a look estimates. What are they called in Canada and if possible can you provide examples of a firm in any Canadian area so I know what to look for in Atlantic Canada? Searching for geotechnical professionals bring up major infrastructure type of firms.

I'm going to try to make a very long story short, but we had a large structural retaining wall replaced. The driveway sits on top of the retaining wall. It is about 7 feet tall at the highest end and tapers down over about 30 feet.

We selected a contractor who was at the higher end of the price range but not like the highest highest. It's not like we cheaped out. But we are SO not happy with the work. There are sagging "deadman" posts, there are a ton of shims forced into it to make it lean the correct direction, and it is visibly not dug out enough.

We have tried to work with the contractor but he keeps cheaping out and "jerry rigging" it further to fix the defects. At this point, we are thinking small claims court. We want an expert to come out and tell us if it is structurally sound and document the defects.

I thought maybe a general home inspector could just inspect a part of it, but we contacted three and they said they only do whole structure inspections, like the whole house. And even if the retaining wall was included they would not really look much further than making sure it's not rotten. I tried a structural engineer but the two I contacted almost seemed confused at what I was asking. One just told me they don't do things like that and the other one I'm pretty sure just wanted me to go away and said $10k.

What kind of speciality can tell me if this thing is going to collapse or not? I feel like this is important information if we sue the previous contractor. Any help would be appreciated.

Hello!

I need some advice about work. I'm 34 and I have a child. What direction do you think I should be looking in job-wise? Because of AI, I'm not sure whether it's worth staying in IT and on top of that, my department was recently shut down at my company, so I'm out of work.

My goal is to be able to rent a decent place, cover health/medical costs, food obviously and to take my child on holiday at least once yearly (I couldn't affort it before).

I'm based in Europe. Right now I'm actively learning to knit, just in case.

Could you suggest what kind of work you'd recommend so that I can be that "man of the house" for myself and support myself properly? If it matters: I'm celibate and I don't plan to enter into a relationship, but I need to get my child on their feet and I honestly have no idea which way to move.

My salary has always been low, I'm tired of it and I'm responsible for a child. So I'm ready for anything. Ready to learn anything, do anything!

Thank you!

Hello, I am using a throwaway account since I don't want this account publicly associated with the rest of my Internet persona. Some identifying info will be fudged for the sake of keeping as anonymous as possible.

Me and my partner of nine years have been constantly fighting about little things these days. The fights have started from shallow stuff. From my perspective, it usually starts out of silly things. One recurring thing is that sometimes, working from home, I want some hugs every now and then during the day. The problem is he's watching Netflix or whatever and doesn't want to be interrupted midmovie. He complains I asked for them too frequently, which is fair. But I think the cause is when he does accept my proposal to hug, I'm just the one hugging him and he's still watching the movie. Gives me a tap in the back of what objectively could be a hug but there is just no emotion.

Alright, getting annoyed is one thing and should be easy to fix. However, he does some variant of "escaping the conversation". Whether it's leaving the room suddenly or answering questions in what I think is bad faith. All of these, in his head, I know he has a rationalization. Leaving the room, according to him, is good for calming down. And he's read that somewhere. Can't refute that. But what I try to explain, and am probably not explaining well, is that he just can't leave me like that because it feels like he doesn't care about it. I find it very disrespectful, it makes me angry, and it just elevates what could have been a quick discussion to some big blown-up fight where no one is really sure anymore how it started or why it dials up to 11 very quickly.

I've recently started opening up to friends out of desperation. He "does not like" that our friends know about our business. Relationship troubles and all. I understand, and I tried to respect this wish for the nine years we've been together. But now I'm desperate, I did start talking about it with friends. They gave me a lot of insights that I didn't have before and they pinpointed that the biggest obstacle we have is proper communication.

In the beginning, I talk and let him talk. But his responses are one-liners like "yes" or "sure". Which is completely ambiguous if it is in agreement to what I just said or if it is just to signify that he's listening. This gave me the tendency to talk more. Because either the conversation finishes there, which according to him is already concluded because he agreed to what I wanted. The thing that is lacking is some sort of feeling of warmth or empathy. In principle, "yes" already does the "admin part" but "yes I understand what you mean and I will try to do better" takes care of the emotional side. This is something that I have tried explaining but unfortunately in vain. Maybe it's his blind side.

I don't think anything of what he's doing is malicious or intentionally done to make me angry. I think it's just how he is. I don't think he realizes it. And as someone who cares for him, I hope he does.

The status now is that we are "broken up". I'd like to mark that with an asterisk because our fights these past few weeks end up with someone saying they want to break up. It has since elevated to "we are breaking up". It's getting tiring. I know that this relationship is down in the gutter. However, I am still optimistic for that Disney ending where we all realize our problems and live happily ever after.

But yeah. I really don't know what I want in posting this. I think I just need to pass the time since we are both currently in the same apartment. It's big enough that we have our own rooms for these trying times. Advice and analyses and opinions are certainly welcome. Obviously, there's bias for me since I wrote it. So yeah. Open to anything. Thanks for reading in any case.

My 55lb German Shepherd / Husky mutt is an absolutely wonderful dog with one fatal flaw: he is deathly afraid of my irrigation system.

From inside the house, he can sense when the valves open and starts panicking before water even starts spraying. He starts running, pacing, hyperventilating, and generally won’t settle. I sit with him and pet him and try to calm him but he won’t relax until the cycle is done.

This is so much of a problem that I simply didn’t run irrigation last year or the year before.

I’ve tried desensitizing him by sitting outside with him and running one of the zones, sitting inside and running a zone, or walking him around the block while I run the sprinklers so that it’s not a surprise when they turn on. I’ve tried showering him with treats, letting him go hide wherever he wants, working on his tricks, and singing to him. Nothing seems to work.

He never chews up the system or shows aggression to it. He knows where the heads are and avoids them in the yard.

More broadly, he doesn’t like being in or around water. He’s good at taking baths. He will get up on the tub and stand there quietly, but he will be shaking and stressed. If we take him to the lake or pool, he will get in the water after a ton of encouragement (and then he proceeds to love the water).

Does anyone have advice for dealing with this kind of behavior?

Not the worst. Not outright criminal, maybe small time stuff. But I mean in terms of moral ethics, is a bad person who's hurt people in the past. And hurts people right now. There might be extenuating circumstances why they grew up like this, but nevertheless the person is a bad person who hurts people. They are a decent parent who I believe do really love me and my sibling, but not selflessly and they don't trust us siblings and is suspicious of us because they project that we must also be terrible people after their money.

I am certain that they grossly misrepresented their age when they met my other parent. I am certain that they had been unfaithful. There are many lies and I do not feel like us siblings or anyone have ever successfully been able to engage with them honestly. They have many facades. My other parent was an honest and good person who deserved much better than how they were treated.

Advice not unwanted, but I'm not really sure what I expect, just airing out a sentiment I do not feel okay to express to any of my friends, and I am trying not to wear out my partner from having to hear it over and over as well. Yes I have an appointment to talk to a therapist

Hi tilderinos! We all love a good relationship drama thread, so I wanted to add my own. I'm posting from my main account because all this dirty laundry is already open and out between both my partner and all my friends and family. Thank you for any advice or support you can offer <3

The current problem

My partner and I are going through a very difficult point in our relationship, and I would really appreciate some outside perspectives.

The short version is: my partner of nearly four years recently told me that our relationship has always felt suffocating to her. She said she has tried to look for positives from the last few years and cannot find any. At the same time, she cried heavily while saying this, has booked herself into therapy, and says she does want a partner eventually. She just does not know whether that partner is me, or whether she can be in this relationship as it currently exists.

I love her deeply, but I also feel ignored, pushed away, and emotionally starved. I am trying to decide whether I should stay and give her space, leave, or take a formal break by moving out for a few months.

Background / how we got here

For context, I have had three serious long-term relationships before this one, and I think I have become much more emotionally mature through them, though I’m sure I still have plenty to learn. This is my partner’s first serious relationship. She has not dated much before, and in my opinion, she has also not had many deep, emotionally close friendships. She is also strongly suspected to be somewhere on the autistic spectrum, though she has never been officially diagnosed.

We met online and were extremely into each other. When we met in person, the chemistry was great, and afterwards we missed each other constantly. After almost a year, I started asking how we could make the relationship work long-term. She said it felt like a big jump, but we talked about it a lot and she eventually seemed fine with the idea.

Not long after, I moved in with her, which also meant moving country. To her credit, she was extremely helpful and considerate during that process.

Just before I moved in, she broke her leg badly and spent over a week in hospital. I helped as much as I could, but it was a very stressful start. I was moving country, taking on more chores, and trying to care for her at the same time. I did it because I love her, and I knew she would physically recover eventually.

What we did not expect was how much the recovery would affect her mentally. She became quite depressed, which is understandable, and it really took the wind out of the first year and a half of us living together. She had very little energy for me or the relationship, and intimacy was limited. I was not getting my needs met either, but we talked a lot and I felt like I understood what she was going through.

Around a year ago, things started to improve. Her mood was better more often, she seemed more present, and when we were intimate, she seemed to put in more effort. I was still the one initiating anything physical, which bothered me, but I hoped that would improve over time. Dates, time together, and our general friendship also seemed to be getting better. I felt like she was slowly trusting me more and letting me in.

Our living situation probably has not helped. I work from home all day, every day, in a room next to the living room. It is a very public space, and I think neither of us has really felt alone. Sometimes I would also play video games after work in that same area, which meant I was still in her space.

Her emotional difficulties

One of the hardest parts is that my partner has extreme difficulty understanding her own emotions. She talks openly about this. She often says she bottles everything up and does not really understand what she feels or why. She has also said she used to feel a lot more when she was younger, but at some point her difficult relationship with her parents caused her to start repressing things.

She often cannot answer direct questions about what she wants. Most of the time, her answer is “I don’t know.”

Sometimes, if we sit down and talk through it slowly, I can help her get to a clearer answer. But it takes a long time, and it is obviously hard work for her. I am also worried that this dynamic can become almost like therapy, where I am trying to guide her into understanding herself. I do not think that is healthy for either of us.

Another thing that scares me is that she seems unable to hold onto positive emotional experiences. We have had romantic dates and close moments where I know she felt something. I could see love, warmth, energy, and joy in her. But if I ask her about those moments a day, week, or month later, it is like the feeling is gone. She will just say, “It was fine.”

That makes the situation very confusing. When she lets her guard down, the relationship can feel genuinely loving and connected. That is part of why I am struggling to walk away. But she often makes an effort to avoid these moments.

I also have a strong suspicion that I might be the first supportive relationship with anyone she's had in her life before. Her family and her close friends (the same friends all the way from high school) do not offer any kind of emotional support or affection. They are the kind of people who don't say "well done!" but "...You could have done this better." There's been lots of instances during the relationship where she's reacted with confusion or surprise at what I would consider basic levels of kindness and support. 

The recent breaking point

This past winter, her mood dropped again. She became increasingly cold and shut me out. We went a long time with no physical contact, not even cuddling. She did not seem interested in anything I had to say, whether it was important or not, and she had very little to share with me either.

After a few weeks, I sat her down and asked what was going on.

That is when she told me the relationship was too much for her, and that it always had been. She said it felt suffocating and that she did not know how to “come up for air.” She said she had tried to find positive things in the relationship but could not find any, not even one, from the last three years.

At the same time, she was looking me in the eyes and crying extremely hard. We talked for hours, and I think she got a lot of catharsis from finally saying it.

After that conversation, she immediately booked herself into therapy because she said she needed someone to help her understand herself. I think that is a good step. But it also feels very much like an “I need help now” decision, rather than her having any clear long-term idea of what she wants.

She has admitted, through tears, that she thinks she would be lonely and unhappy alone. She does want a partner. She just does not know if that partner is me, or if she can be with me in the version of the relationship we have had so far. Honestly, I agree that the relationship as it has been is not sustainable.

What has changed since

Since that conversation, we have drifted apart. I am sad about it and I miss my girlfriend, but right now it feels like we are two separate people living in the same building.

The first practical thing I did was move my office outside the house, because I thought that would give us both more breathing room. I think that was a good step, but it has not fixed the deeper issue.

She has also become completely glued to her phone in a way I have never seen before. She still uses her usual apps, but she also downloaded a random stranger-chat app, similar to Omegle, where she talks to people about their lives. She seems fascinated by it, almost like it is a real-life sitcom.

I was obviously concerned by that. I challenged her on whether it was appropriate to be using an app like that while our relationship was in such a bad place, especially when those apps can easily become sexual. She said she deletes anyone who gets sexual and that she just wants to talk to people, but does not know how to do that any other way.

She offered me her phone, and from what I saw, the conversations were shallow and non-sexual. I do not think she is cheating on me. What it looks like to me is that she is seeking low-pressure connection with strangers while avoiding the pressure and emotional weight of our actual relationship.

She does not seem able to tell me what she wants from me or the relationship. When I ask whether she wants to stay together, move apart, take a break, reduce contact, stop physical affection completely, or work on things, the answer is usually “I don’t know.”

For my part, I want to support her, but she is not really accepting support from me. In fact, I think my care may sometimes make her feel more pressured, upset, or resentful. I have stopped being romantic and I am not initiating physical touch. I am trying to give her as much space as possible. But even small thoughtful gestures, like making her a cup of tea, can be met with coldness or irritation. I understand why she might feel overwhelmed, but it still hurts.

What I am considering

The practical side is not a major barrier. I have a good financial buffer, my job is secure and remote, and I could rent an apartment or potentially move in with someone we know. I have options, and moving out would be reasonably low-risk for me.

So I think my options are:

1. Stay, give her space, and support her when she asks for it.

   This might give therapy a chance to help. But it could also leave me waiting indefinitely for someone who may never be ready, or who may eventually decide I am not her person.

2. Leave.

   This would hurt both of us, and she would lose a major source of support. But it might also be the cleanest option if she genuinely cannot be in the relationship and I am only prolonging the pain.

3. Take a formal break by moving out for a few months.

   This feels like a possible middle ground. It would give her space to understand herself without the daily pressure of living with me, and it would give me some emotional distance too. The idea would be to check in after a set period and keep only light contact in the meantime.

What I need advice on

What would you do in my position?

More specifically:

• How much space is reasonable to give someone who says the relationship feels suffocating but cannot say whether they want to leave?
• At what point does being patient and supportive become abandoning my own needs?
• Is it appropriate to push her, even gently, when I feel like I know how to help?
• Is there a better option I am not seeing?

I love her, and when things are good between us, the connection feels rare and real. But those moments are not happening enough, and I am struggling with how cold and uncertain things have become.

Spouse and I are trying to get bids from local solar installers and we'd appreciate some crowdsourced knowledge from Tilderinos. Questions first, then some context...

• In the current market, is "no, your equipment can't talk to the Internet" actually an unreasonable demand?
• Is there a term or phrase we should be using to look for, or guide installers towards, solar setups that fully function without Internet access?
• Are there any equipment types -- microinverters, for example -- that definitely will not work due to architecture?
• Are there battery controllers, or central inverters, that are known to play nicely (read: can be expanded later) with batteries from other manufacturers?

For each installer, we start the conversation with "it's essential that the system work entirely offline, without Internet." We're flexible on nearly everything else: system size (probably ~15kW), number of panels, battery, etc. Our first concern is making sure that a 25-year investment is not dependent on some company's cloud servers; secondly, that we're not inverting our dependency graph by making our electric power reliant on the whims of our ISP. There's also the privacy angle. But we're not looking for a totally off-the-grid setup, just trying not to lock ourselves into a bad purchase.

So far, one third of the installers (3/9) have immediately told us we're unreasonable and to just go away. Two others said "sure!" and ghosted us afterwards. One was a little more forthcoming, saying that the equipment requires periodic connections to the manufacturer for monitoring and they couldn't provide a warranty without it. The last two provided bids, but it's difficult to tell if they're telling the truth given the conflicting info we've seen.

Some people here know me, I’ve been open about having been a virgin until I was 24. I didn’t really think about this too much before I had sex, in that there are various skill levels. The person that I lost my virginity to was my age, but she had been having sex for over 10 years. We had a fling for a few months, so for a while she was the only person I was having sex with. I had nothing else to compare that to, and so to me what I was doing with her was the baseline of what sex was. It wasn’t until I started having sex with other people that I realized that she was actually significantly skilled in the area, and was quite a bit above average. So in that way, I lucked out on how I was introduced to sex.

Subsequent sexual partners have been lackluster. For a bit I thought, okay maybe they’re just not experienced even if they are quite a bit older than me and have been supposedly having sex for twenty some odd years. But after more people who claimed to have experience came my way, I started to think okay maybe experience doesn’t matter if you’re just doing the same thing over and over.

I’m going to try to describe what the issue is. Out of the partners that weren’t particularly good in bed, it feels like they can’t move their bodies very well. Like they’re stiff, movement isn’t fluid and they don’t have strong energy, there’s no vigor to them. I came to a theory that if someone can’t dance, that that translates into their performance. Because I think being able to dance, suggests that you have rhythm control, body control, and more explicitly hip control. As well as endurance. The first girl was someone that could dance, so we would dance together a lot and I think my dance ability translated to me being pretty good despite my inexperience. But with women that can’t dance I often find that they struggle to keep up with anything I’m trying to do. Like if I’m trying to set a rhythm they fight against the rhythm, not on purpose, it’s like dancing they just don’t have the rhythm.

Another thing is I last a really long time, like minimum an hour. The first girl was able to keep up with me even as the sessions went on for over two hours. A lot of other women I’ve been with are done by the 20 minute mark. Which to me is just like getting started.

So far this sounds like I’m bragging. But the point I’m getting at is that, I was not physically attracted to the girl I lost my virginity to. While we got along, generally, I also wasn’t super into her personality nor was there that much of an emotional connection from my side anyway. And since then I’ve been with women that I am both physically and mentally attracted to, but because of our lack of sexual compatibility I’m really not as keen on seeing them.

This kind of came into my brain, when I was looking at Reddit posts where people were discussing the former partners of both Ariana Grande and Sabrina Carpenter. Both singers are known for dating unattractive men. So when I saw a user say that, if you listen to how many of their songs are about sex, they likely prioritize sexual compatibility/chemistry above anything else. Which made me realize I think I do too. Maybe it’s just because sex is still a relatively new thing for me, and it’ll dissipate as time goes on. But, I wanted to know if other people were in the same boat.

So the Summer Solstice of 2026 concludes the 30th year that spouse and I have been married. We're in the queer bin, no offspring, two cats, and have both had miscellaneous careers, now on the bumpy path to elderhood.

Relationship advice - ups, downs, and all arounds, is a perennial theme of Tildes discussion.

This is your opportunity to throw down your questions about how to manage keeping it together this long.

Full disclosure: I've had two glasses of wine for our intermediate celebration (we decided to have a small one on the actual date since it's a Monday, the blowout is Friday night), so the immediate answers may be a little fuzzy.

I've been thinking a lot lately about burnout, ADHD, autism, work, and where I go from here.

My background is in entertainment design, print-focused graphic design, commercial printing, project management, production coordination, and over the years I've picked up a multitude of tech oriented skills with automation, software development and programming, mostly at hobby levels but still extremely useful.

I started out designing graphics for sets, props, and production, then gradually moved into the coordination and project management side by filling the gaps between creative teams, vendors, printers, clients, and production crews. Over time, that turned into a career built around helping complex visual and print projects move from idea to finished product. And I like it, I like being able to turn intangible ideas into reality.

But a lot of what has worn me down has not just been the workload itself. Print is stressful by nature, and I understand that. Deadlines move fast, clients change things, files come in wrong, and problems have to be solved quickly.

What has worn me down more is the pressure to work in a way that does not match how I work best, while also being hired for skills that depend on me seeing systems differently in the first place.

A major part of my career, especially as I moved into coordination and project management, has been my ability to understand systems, notice inefficient workflows, and find ways to improve them. I tend to see where information gets lost, where effort is duplicated, where confusion is being created, and where a better structure would help everyone.

A lot of this has actually stemmed from me adapting to my ADHD to create frictionless workflows for myself to help myself manage my life. But it translates well into systems and workflow because I understand where that friction is for a lot of people and how things get missed.

The frustrating pattern is that I often get hired partly because a company wants better organization, better workflows, better communication, or more efficient processes. Then when I start identifying those issues and trying to improve them, the follow-through fades.

Management may not fully support the changes. The existing culture may push back. Or one coworker who is deeply embedded in the company reacts badly and turns the situation into a conflict.

Eventually, I end up being pressured to operate inside the same inefficient workflow that was causing problems to begin with. Then I start looking ineffective in the exact environment I was hired to help improve.

That is where ADHD and autism make the struggle especially difficult. It is not that I cannot work hard or solve complex problems. I can. But when a workplace is unclear, reactive, socially political, inconsistent, or resistant to process improvement, I spend a huge amount of energy just trying to function inside it.

Then the anxiety builds. I start worrying that I'm going to be blamed, misunderstood, pushed out, or fired, even when I'm trying to help.

The hilariously frustrating thing is that I used to have Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria from relationships stemming from my ADHD, I would get anxious and paranoid when sensing a change in behavior patterns or tone or whatever, and I am very happy to say I have overcome that in my relationships and am much more secure. HOWEVER, in a hilariously frustrating turn of events, those exact rejection sensitive dypshoria senses have moved entirely to work. And I start panicking at a manager's tone change, or email.

I get in this mindset of expecting to be fired at any moment, where I can hear and see my manager pulling me in to give me "the talk" before being let go.

And frankly I think that burns me out more than anything.

Like right now in this current job, I was hired to improve the processes and inefficiencies, because the print shop I'm working at is using software literally from 2001 all run on ancient Windows 7 computers and has been unsupported for over 15 years, and their process is so painstakingly inefficient that I was hired precisely because they knew.

However here I am 6 months into the job, and I haven't even touched any process improvements and I am now expected to work entirely off of paper and a 25 year old unsupported software, both of which is so far away from my skillset and how I function that I'm struggling every day just to keep up.

Meanwhile, the HR woman who is also a project manager, has outright refused any process improvement and has forced me to work EXACTLY like she does. She's forced me to use her spreadsheet, she's forced me to handwrite everything(I have dysgraphia too, I struggle writing by hand but typing is second nature). She has thrown me under the bus. I created a synced spreadsheet using Microsoft 365 so we didn't have to send emails with spreadsheets every single night that clogs up our inboxes, and she just straight up said "I'm not using that." I can't even search through my emails for client or project keywords because it picks up her daily "Schedule" emails because her spreadsheet has an archive sheet with 20 years worth of jobs and clients. Every time I search my email I have to sift through 100s of her daily schedule emails, and I've been told I'm not allowed to delete them in case we ever need to go back.

Meanwhile I have been self hosting ERPNext and on my own time wrote a custom Printing App with custom forms for estimating, jobs, and project management, even tracking equipment maintenance, to mimic our current workflow as closely as possible while keeping everything digital and consolidated, yet nobody seems interested in that.

So now I'm coming into work every day, struggling to be functional, and questioning if it's me, the job, or what. And it's frustrating that this has happened at just about every single job I've had since 2020.

I have real experience and real value. I've worked across graphic design, commercial printing, production, prepress, project management, account management, estimating, vendor coordination, branding, marketing support, workflow systems, and automation.

I know how print projects go wrong. I know how to prepare files, coordinate specs, communicate with printers, work with clients, manage production details, and help avoid expensive mistakes.

That is part of why I've started seriously thinking about freelance work, print brokerage, design support, print consulting, and workflow automation.

On paper, it feels like it could make sense. It would let me build something around the parts of the work I know I'm good at: helping people plan print projects, prepare files correctly, source vendors, manage production details, improve workflows, automate repetitive tasks, and make the process less confusing.

I'd also get to manage my own time, my own processes without being judged or worried about being fired. I have so many ideas on finding clients, helping clients, and I've got skillsets that would set me apart from my competition.

I see a need for design teams and people to need help with print, because I've worked with so many clients in my jobs that struggle with what comes second nature to me. And because schools seem to always teach how Print is dying, the majority of graphic designers know very very little about how to design effectively for print, which a lot of my career has been geared towards helping.

The part I'm unsure about is whether this is a real next step or just another big ADHD idea that feels urgent because I'm burned out.

I know I'm capable. That isn't really the question. The question is whether going out on my own would actually give me the room to use those skills in a healthier way, or whether I'd end up running into the same patterns without the safety net of a regular job.

That is the part that makes me hesitate. Freelancing feels like it could be a way to finally build work around how I function best, but it also feels uncertain and risky. If the same issues around anxiety, conflict, communication, or feeling unsupported still show up, I would be dealing with them on my own.

So I'm trying to be realistic without talking myself out of something that might actually help. I can't keep going the way I have been. I feel burned out and stuck, and this idea feels just practical enough and just uncertain enough that I keep coming back to it.

If anyone has experience with freelancing, print brokerage, consulting, ADHD/autism in the workplace, burnout, or building a career around a skillset that does not fit neatly into traditional jobs, I'd appreciate your perspective.

I'm especially interested in hearing from people who have made some version of this work. Not in a "just quit your job and follow your dreams" way, but in a realistic way. What helped? What did you have to figure out? What made it sustainable?

I could use advice, but honestly, I could also use some encouragement and success stories from people who have been in a similar place and found a way forward.

I'm curious about things in your life (things you do, objects owned, rituals observed) that may seem silly to outside observers (or even to you) but have objectively practical purposes or an internal logic that just needs a bit of explaining?

I was thinking about my Batman t-shirt that I'm wearing today, and my other graphic logo t-shirts that I know a man in his mid-40's isn't supposed to wear because it's childish. Now, granted I only wear these around the house and if I'm going out to run errands, and I'm sure I look a little foolish to most folks, but I've found that the graphic tees serve far more purpose than I ever imagined when I originally purchased them.

When I bought them, it was because:

1. I knew I'd be wearing them under a jacket all day as the office I worked in at the time kept the HVAC set in the high 60's (Farenheit) and they'd go unnoticed.
2. They cost a little less than high quality individual plain shirts as I happened to catch them all on a clearance in my size; extremely rare since I'm a tall dude who's half torso.
3. I had always wanted to wear super hero logos and stuff as a kid, but even into my 20's I could never justify the price even when working full time.

I've got around 10 shirts that I rotate through, along with a bunch of plain ones because when you buy them in packs of 6 they're still way cheaper. And I've found a few odd benefits I wasn't expecting.

• I often dress in dim light, without my glasses on. Having a logo means I rarely turn my graphic t-shirts inside out and I never put them on backwards.
• I'm a big dude, tall and broad and I take up a lot of space. I believe that people treat me as less imposing when I'm wearing a funny little t-shirt.
• They're surprisingly comfortable and well-made, and they've lasted me a decade at this point and will likely last longer than that.

So back to the main topic at hand: is there anything you have or do that's silly to yourself or others that actually has practical benefit or a logical reason that lets you suspend embarrassment?

In a few days my dad will have been gone for 2 months. I'm his only biological child and he has 2 stepsons. I've been feeling like I'm grieving 'the wrong way' but that in itself is not a source of stress or anything. I've been spending so much time doing other things that I've been distracted from having enough quiet moments to reflect on his passing and remember all that I can about him. I'm also not the type of person that can cry easily (not a sociopath lol). We weren't super close but I believe we had an understanding; this is a common father-son dynamic I think. Although, I do feel terrible that he won't be around to see me hit all the milestones of adulthood that I know he would be proud of. But I do know that he was proud of me for some things because he made sure to tell me. I also feel like I don't know how to fully be there for my mother who just lost her partner of 30+ years; I can't imagine the scale of her grief. Any words of wisdom are appreciated.

It might be worth mentioning that he was an alcoholic, as am I (sober 1 year next month). This of course was a factor in his death but not the only thing. I'm very grounded in the reality of what happened and why it happened which I think makes others surprised by my 'tough exterior' or whatever. I feel like I can go on forever but I'll leave this post short.

Others are welcome to share cool stories about their dads :^)

There's something small that you've been meaning to do but, for whatever reason, you haven't done it. Rather than just forgetting about it, however, your brain has decided to make it take up a minor amount of space in your awareness -- not enough to make it an immediate concern or something you plan to act on, but still just enough to be annoying.

Well, this is your call to address the issue head on! Pull that mental splinter out and get rid of it for good!

Maybe you need to...

• change an air filter
• tighten your showerhead
• go through that stack of mail
• box up a return
• put more air in your bike tires
• rearrange a bookshelf
• throw out some expired cans
• vacuum behind the couch
• clean the dust out of your computer fan
• etc.

Whatever it is, this topic is your call to GO DO THE THING.

And then, come back here and tell us what you did.

One minor annoyance solved for only one person? Not a big deal.

LOTS of minor annoyances solved for LOTS of different people? GIGANTIC DEAL!

This topic is our space to communally revel in the glorious shared feeling of being slightly more annoyance-free, together.

IMPORTANT: Clearing up multiple annoyances is explicitly allowed!

Solved!

I'm trying to replace the light pull switch on the ceiling fan. Breaker is off, light bulbs are out.

The old switch has two black wires that run into the light socket, out of the socket comes a white and black wire. The black wire seems to be connected all the way through, the white wire obviously starts in the small socket fixture.

How do I connect these wires? Further up is a crimp connecter on the white and black wires.

I thought this was going to be easier.

Edit: pictures hopefully fixed.
I also don't have any wire nuts or similar connectors apparently so, I am running to grab that.

Edited: link to pics deleted for my sanity

I've wondered before what it means to be anti-racist. I recall once asking online and got a not so helpful response of "well maybe you should think about that". But today my friend exemplified the idea.

He was sitting in a bus in San Francisco when an older white man started yelling racist shit at someone else on the bus. My friend is a model citizen. The kind of guy to call in issues to 311 as he's walking home. A frequent volunteer as well. So when he saw this altercation he stood up and got in front of the yelling man. That was enough to interrupt him. But more action was needed. Justice was needed.

He just so happened to have a need to relieve some gas. And so he aimed... and fired right onto the guy. When he walked off he turned to the racist and said "To be clear, I farted on you intentionally because of what you said". I'm told the face he got in response was exactly the same as Hide the Pain Harold's.

We should all strive for this level of bravery. And maybe, one fart at a time, we can end racism.

A problem I have every summer is either going to sleep cool and waking up in the middle of the night hot or going to sleep warm and waking up in the middle of the night cold. I used to have a similar problem in the winter, but I was able to solve that by getting a down comforter. Any recommendations for a good summer blanket for midwestern summers?

Kings of the losers

Incels imagine a world in which they can only lose. The result: no girlfriend, ever. We met them in the saddest places of the internet— and in real life.

A report by Philipp Daum: https://www.zeit.de/autoren/D/Philipp_Daum/index
Translation of the online version, last updated May 30, 2026 08:55 UTC+1 by @Grzmot.
Originally published in German in ZEIT am Wochenende, issue 22/2026.

Gifted link to the German original: https://www.zeit.de/digital/2026-05/incel-bewegung-internet-maenner-depression?freebie=84491b05

1. Rejection

The boy was new in class. A shy teenager, interested in hiking alone and watching anime. He had the telephone numbers of two classmates to talk over homework. No friends otherwise. One day, a girl asked him in front of the entire class if they wanted to do something together. He was immediately suspicious. He thought: if I say yes, everyone will laugh. Later, it turned out that the girl lost a bet.

He said no. The class laughed anyway.

This boy is a man today, 29 years old. To this day, he hasn’t forgotten this story with the girl. In this text I’ll call him sprixxles, by his username on Reddit. No one in his analog life knows,that he is an incel, and that shouldn’t change.

Sprixxles remembers when he came across the term incel online. He remembers thinking, “I hope that doesn’t describe me,” and how he slowly and painfully realized that it did.

Incel means involuntary celibate. Men who can’t find a woman and believe they never will because they are too shy, too ugly, not worth loving, but also because they believe that women today have way too high standards. In the past, men hid their virginity. From that the internet forged a collective identity.

Incels carry within them something shameful, apparently full self aware. They gather in online forums, Discord servers, and on reddit. They have usernames like subhumanDNA or invisiblebeta. Scroll a bit through those forums, join some discord servers, and soon you’ll see someone celebrating Adolf Hitler’s birthday. Someone posts a video where a woman is beaten up. The incels do everything they can to enrage the normies, which is what they call us.

But their world also contains surprising places. Essays and philosophical debates, where incels respectfully debate feminists. The American journalist Naama Kates once described the incel world as “multi-layered, eloquent, incredibly funny, enraging, and deeply heartbreaking.”

When I was a teenager, I let my hair grow down to my shoulders. I listened to sad music and played The Dark Eye with my other long-haired friends. We sat at big tables, imagining, in week-long planning sessions, dwarven warriors and elven mages, and rolled dice with twenty sides to play out their complex battles. The dark eye is the German variant of Dungeons & Dragons, on which the musician Marilyn Manson once commented: “If a cigarette shortens your lifespan by seven minutes, then every game of Dungeons & Dragons delays losing your virginity by seven hours.” We played every weekend, sometimes three parties spaced out across two days.

What exactly differentiated incels and me? At which crossroads of life did we take separate paths?

2. The revelation of FaceandLMS

In 2016 the user FaceandLMS uploaded a video to YouTube, that “changed the internet forever and which very few people ever realized.” At least, that’s what a comment under the video says.

Hailing from Britain and identifying as an incel, FaceandLMS disguised himself as an attractive man on the dating platform Plenty of Fish. He named this persona Carl. He used pictures of a male model. With this experiment he wanted to contradict what society tells shy men, and what my mom always told me too: women like someone who’s friendly and confident, someone with good character.

Quickly, Carl is overwhelmed with requests to talk. He chats with many women at the same time and tries his best to do everything wrong. He writes that he is on antidepressants, that he is incredibly insecure, that he’s broke. He is unfriendly, sometimes racist (”ching chong chang, do you want to bang?”)—and still successful. The lesson appears clear: women pretend that they care about character, but really they only value good looks.

At the end of the video, FaceandLMS reveals what makes a male face attractive, with drawn in lines, angles and squares that should show the ideal proportions of different parts of the face:

• Short philtrum (the tiny valley that connects the upper lip with the nose)
• Predator-animal-like eyes
• A high facial width-to-height ratio; the higher the value, the more attractive the man is
• Defined maxilla (upper jaw), mandibule (lower jaw), and chin
• Body fat percentage between 10 and 12 percent

A commenter under the video is impressed and writes: “The true godfather of the black pill.”

The black pill is the ideological core of the incel movement. Summarized, it means: forget status, forget money, forget confidence. Good looks are everything, and for those that aren’t attractive enough, the search for a partner is over before it’s even begun. The metaphor is a reference to the film The Matrix, where protagonist Neo has the choice between a blue and red pill. Blue means he keeps living his life, happy to be lied to and naive. Red is harsh. Brutal. It means looking reality in the eye.

Black is the pill of the incels, because black is the color of hopelessness. Destiny and your bone structure can’t be changed. Or can they?

The first who told me of the black pill was Luis. 23 years old, he was the first incel I talked to. I met him on the subreddit DebateIncelz. The interview was conducted via video chat. He lives in Southern California, in his parents’ house. The sun shone through the window; a cat prowled through the room behind him. Luis was one of the few incels who showed me his face. Most disable the camera.

Luis has a fine, slightly feminine face and long, wavy hair. He reminded a bit of young Keanu Reeves, if Reeves had parents from middle America. A lot better than I imagined meeting my first incel.

He grew up in a working-class home. His mother comes from Mexico, his father from El Salvador. “I love my mom very much,” he says. “I love my sister very much. I do not despise women.” Luis didn’t appear hateful at all, a trait he shared with many incels I would later talk to. He appeared defeated.

He was an insecure, overweight child. He was bullied a lot in school for his looks. As a teenager he discovered FaceandLMS during the pandemic. Luis was fascinated by his clarity and logic. He told me: “It offers me a framework to understand how dating and life even work.” The well-meaning advice from his immediate surroundings (“go out and be around people,” “talk to a girl if you like her”) didn’t land. “I need numbers,” he says. “I need logic.”

Luis says that he spent a lot of time on Looksmax.org, a forum where men rate each other’s looks. There he was graded as a high low-tier normie. So fairly average, which surprised him in a positive way. He also learned that his philtrum was too long, that he had a receding chin, and that his upper incisor teeth covered his lower ones too much.

Incels really only see two ways to react to the revelations of the black pill. Either they accept that they have a low chance of success as unattractive or very average men, or they try to change their appearance.

Luis chose the latter. He started looksmaxxing. He lost weight. Bought medication against hair loss. Bleached his skin. “On one hand I couldn’t believe what I was doing to myself, but I knew that looked better afterward.”

Luis finished every step possible when softmaxxing. He took all the options of changing his appearance without surgery. Now hardmaxxing was supposed to begin. Luis had a whole list of planned surgeries: multiple jaw surgeries, hair transplants, transplants of his own fat, correcting his ears. And then? “Then I’ll look for a partner.”

Luis did what many women already do: he looked at his own appearance without mercy.

Why is Luis so convinced of his own bad appearance? I am fifteen years older than him and grew up at a time when beauty standards for girls were hard, but less so for boys. No boy from my school class went to the gym. I wasn’t on any social media that bombarded me with rock-hard abs daily. Back then it was impossible to inject Hyaluron into your jawline on your lunch break.

Like Luis, I was insecure; I didn’t feel pretty. But I was not reminded every single day, how much more beautiful other men were.

3. The scientist

For a long time, the public and academic researchers talked about incels, not with them. That changed a few years ago, when Andrew Thomas, an evolutionary psychologist from the University of Swansea in Wales, found a way to talk to them. Until that point, researchers had stuck to analyzing online forums where incels met. When I talked to Thomas, he said that approach is like looking only at the tip of the iceberg. A majority of the posts in forums stem from a few super-users. If you only base your research on those, you won’t understand what’s going on in the heads of most incels, only what their most extreme representatives write about.

Thomas interviewed 561 men from the United States and the United Kingdom for his study. He learned that incels are pretty diverse: some are working class, some upper class. About half of them are people of color: Latinos, Black Americans, Arabs. Politically they placed themselves slightly left of center. They were pro-gay equality. They supported a well-equipped welfare state. On one point they held similar views: the overwhelming majority of incels rejected feminism. Many made light of rape.

How dangerous are incels? Thomas says that the highest danger is in the digital space. Some incels abuse women online, sending them hateful emails or comments on social media. Most of them are so repressed, they rarely become violent outside the internet.

Deserts of love

There are exceptions. Incels have produced terrorists. The most infamous example was Elliot Rodger. He killed six people in 2014 in Santa Barbara, California. He left a manifesto behind, where he complained that he was still a virgin as a 22-year-old college student. He wrote: “I will punish all women for keeping sex away from me.” As if women owe men sex. It’s an ancient pattern: a man talks to a woman, is rejected, and feels ashamed and hurt. He channels those feelings into hatred against women.

But most incels, Thomas says, internalize their emotions: they develop immense hatred against themselves. Terrorists form a vanishingly small part of the community. Even men who commit sexual violence are rarely incels. “Many studies show: it’s the sexually most successful men that commit the majority of sexual violence,” says Thomas.

Then Thomas talks about the suicides. Incels who participated in his study were often deeply unhappy. Forty percent of them reached the threshold for a clinical depression in questionnaires. A fifth thought about suicide daily.

4. 80/20

I talked to a user called bright spring. An Indian man, 20 years old, he told me he studied English and lives at home to take care of his ill father. Bright spring is the name of his latest Reddit account; the previous were banned. In the past, he moderated some subreddits, which also got banned. It wasn’t easy to convince him to do an interview, but at some point he wanted to talk. He wanted to, he said, correct the record on “what most incels think.”

What he thinks: dating apps changed everything. An overwhelming amount of matches went to a few percent of the most attractive men. Those not attractive enough—too small, too dark, too autistic—had no chance. That’s not an opinion, he says, that’s a fact. The entire incel worldview is built on data. Statistics. “Brutal statistics.” He only hinted at his personal story in our conversation. Supposedly he’s very social; he just doesn’t fulfill the minimum standards to even be noticed by women.

At some point he complained. It’s a “softball interview.” He wished for more confrontational questions. We agree to a second round. I show him posts from the community that he supervised as a moderator. In them, men disparage women as “foids,” “female humanoids.” He says that it’s a loud minority and that I’m cherry-picking four cases out of thousands of posts. He overlooked those posts, or he would’ve deleted them. He is strictly against dehumanizing women in posts. It does nothing for the cause. Then I show him a post which he wrote himself. Women are incapable of loyalty. Romantic love is an invention of men to humanize women, like how many people humanize their pets. He laughed nervously when I read him the post. He said that he gender-swapped a misandrist post from a feminist subreddit. He couldn’t show me the original.

He was angry back then, he says, about the posts in which women complain about white men, about Indian men, about neurodivergent men, and are celebrated for it. He wanted revenge.

This dynamic rules many parts of Reddit. Many incel subs are dedicated to posting screenshots of women that denounce men on Instagram or TikTok. Places like inceltears in turn live off sharing the most hate-filled comments from incel forums. I ask him: you keep this vicious cycle going, right? He responds: “I try to avoid it. Sometimes I don’t succeed.”

All incels I talked to told me of their experiences with dating apps. The digital rejection seems to be a core building block of every incel biography. One tried it for one week only: “I got a single match, and she never responded. I guess she matched by accident.” Another one told me he needed years to get a match. “You swipe for hours and nothing happens. Dating apps are a wonderful way to hate yourself fast.”

In 2015 an anonymous author wrote a blog post detailing the spread of likes on dating apps. He described Tinder like a national economy based on attractiveness. He surmised that the most attractive 20 percent of men receive 80 percent of all likes of women, while barely anything is left for the remaining 80 percent of men.

The post’s factual basis is very narrow at 27 female profiles analyzed. But even more dependable studies show that attention is very unevenly divided on dating apps. According to a study from Queen Mary University of London (PDF), likes from women are seventeen times more likely to lead to a match than likes from men. An analysis by the dating app Hinge (which was later deleted off their own blog) came to the conclusion: if female Hinge were a national economy, then wealth there was divided about the same as Western Europe. Male Hinge would be among the top ten worst performers in regard to wealth parity. Put differently: dating apps are great for attractive men. For average or ugly men, they are deserts of love where nothing ever happens.

The Medium post was canonized into the 80/20 rule, made it into the Wikipedia article on inequality, and appeared in the Netflix incel drama Adolescence, a story of a student radicalizing on the internet and murdering a female class mate. Many incels believe in the 80/20 rule. They’ve constructed their entire belief system around it: a majority of women is into a minority of men, whom the incels call Chads. The less attractive men, the betas, can hope for a lukewarm relationship without real passion. Unattractive, shy, neurodivergent men are damned to a life as incels. There is no hope for them.

And, as it so often goes with viral things on the internet, sometimes they contain a grain of truth.

5. Men as office staplers

The scientist Andrew Thomas told me of the matching hypothesis. Men and women try, when it comes to long-term relationships, to find partners that are similar to them: similarly attractive, intelligent, similar sense of humor. Attractive long-term partners are friendly, potentially good parents, financially stable. Men and women look for identical things.

It’s different for flings. Thomas says: “Women become pickier and men the opposite.” Traits desirable in long-term partners are less important for one-night stands. It’s not that important how nice someone is, and completely irrelevant how good of a father he’d be. What matters: how attractive someone is.

Women, on average, are less into casual hookups than men. For them, casual sex is also less casual and more dangerous: they can get pregnant. They are often weaker than men and expose themselves due to that. They can also contract sexually transmittable diseases that lead to infertility much more often than in men.

Andrew Thomas told me: “Because casual sex is connected to more risks, the thought goes: I’ll only accept this risk for someone that is exceedingly attractive.”

The exact opposite happens for men. They lower their standards, because they’re more into casual sex on average. So they’re fine with sleeping with women they wouldn’t marry.

“The 80/20 rule has a grain of truth.” says Andrew Thomas, but the crucial mistake of incels is that from this strategy of selecting short-term partners they create an immutable psyche that all women supposedly possess, and in that one move exclude all women who did not meet their partners through apps. Who were friends first, who met them through mutual acquaintances, where they meet regularly and first impressions can change. That is also an important finding of psychology: attractiveness is not static. The more time people spend with another, the more attractive they find each other.

Dating apps complicate everything. They are, no matter what they try to market themselves as, apps for casual hook-ups because their basis is the optical first impression. Women there get so much attention from men, they have to radically filter. Andrew Thomas hints that this isn’t moral calculus; it’s not even a matter of taste; it’s simply a strategy to deal with an oversupply.

Andrew Thomas also works as a therapist. He has incels as patients. Sometimes he conducts an experiment with one. He asks him to search for office staplers on Amazon and narrate it step by step. Okay, says the patient, there are ten thousand results. So he filters; 4 or 5 stars, not too expensive, fits at least two hundred tacks, only in the color red. “And then I tell him: you picky bastard! What’s wrong with the blue staplers? How can you be so narcissistic and have such high standards?”

6. Digital cutting

The incels disappear. One user called fuckitall responds to my interview request: “Go fuck yourself.” Another does the same and appends that I should get a real job. Another posts a photo of me and calls me a soyboy: a man feminized by the overconsumption of soy products.

I had about the same experience as an average-looking man on a dating app. I sent a lot of messages, got few responses, and in the end got only one meeting in reality: with sprixxles.

I had huge expectations. Then I see him standing at the entrance gates to a park in Vienna and think again: that’s how an incel looks? (He had his camera off during the video interview.) He waits in front of the gate, in a shirt and sneakers, well dressed, a little grungy, a little hipster. He has a narrow chin. He wears designer glasses. He appears friendly.

We stroll through the park, and he narrates. He was a shy kid, a teenager with “nerd hobbies.” No friends in school. He moved for college, from the rural farmsteads into the big city, where it was equally difficult. He had time. A lot of time. A lot of time he spent on the internet.
It was, he explains, the peak of his inceldom. His days spent on the 4chan board r9k, where anonymous users share pictures and texts. It is one of the most culturally influential places on the internet. A favored way to express oneself there is so-called green texts, short stories about failing in social situations, filled with sarcasm and self-deprecation. The mood is extremely negative, but the place had a strange pull on him, says sprixxles. “This form of negativity can be addicting.”

One motto of r9k is: you are here forever. If you’re a young student reading posts from men in their 30s saying that it’s just not going to get better, you think, “Fuck, that could be me.” He felt something similar to an adrenaline rush, excitement over how pointless it all was.

“Sounds like digitally cutting yourself?” I ask.

“One way to put it.”

During those times he visited a therapist a few times, but she couldn’t really help him. Looking back, he likely was already severely depressed.

That’s behind him. He’s 29 now and works in a big company. He spends barely any time in the incel community. At some point the constant bemoaning and complaining became too much. “At some point it’s annoying.” He doesn’t have any time for it anymore. He rarely visits, mostly out of sentimentality. He never understood the hatred.

He lives in a small apartment in one of those old but well taken care of Vienna buildings. The center is a large kitchen. Against the wall, a vinyl record player. On a shelf, old game consoles he collects. On a large desk, filling out the entire wall, two computer screens.
He loves getting lost in details. He taught himself Japanese to better read manga. He also says that he has “autistic tendencies.” Sometimes it seems like our conversation tires him out a great deal. He swings his legs back and forth, runs his hands through his hair and wipes across his eyebrows. He never looks into my eyes for long. He yawns a lot.

Hope is vulnerable

He’s been living in this apartment for ten years. He can’t imagine living with someone else any more. Alone he doesn’t have to care about anything. He can cook at night, if he wants to. Freedom, it appears, is something he cares about a great deal. Maybe it’s also a shield.

Sometimes colleagues ask him if there is someone in his life. He responds with sentences that sound good in colloquial Austrian. Nothing right now. or You know how it is. Face-saving words making it sound like there was something, or that there could be something again.

I meet him three times, in the evening after work. He’s stressed and tired. Problems at work; he has to work overtime. I see him rush through his life, which he fills, like many of us, mainly with work. In the evening he quickly goes to the store, cooks, eats. If he has time, he plays some video games, reads, takes care of his Pokémon card collection. Then he sleeps.

Soon, he’s 30. If it keeps going like this, it’ll all be fine, he says. By now he’s noticed that life is more than missed-out-on relationships. He has his hobbies. He can travel. He makes money and doesn’t have any worries. He doesn’t plan on dating.

But sometimes, something flashes through. A life, how it could be. Eight years ago he kissed a woman; it was the first and so far last kiss of his life. She was a little smaller than him, dark hair, nose piercing, wearing a cardigan over a striped dress. They didn’t know each other; they started talking because she found his drinking choice of gin and tonic unconventional. She leaned against him. He was drunk. I’ll try, he thought. So he kissed her. “With tongue?”

“Yeah, like one does, first time round. Not very elegant.” He imagined his first kiss as a more romantic one. Not drunk in the club. “But it was beautiful.” He says, “It was great.” He went home without asking for her number, and was happy and relieved to have put this milestone behind him.

7. Crab bucket

I realize that dealing with incels and the black pill changes something within me. Within the editorial staff at work, I begin studying the faces of my male colleagues. Who has the most defined chin? Whose eyes look the most like a predator animal? At some point I uploaded a selfie to a website that determines the facial width-to-height ratio. It answers with a 1.7. My face is too long, like a horse.

I reduce men to their looks. What did Hamudi say, one of the most famous incel YouTubers? I don’t see people anymore, I only see genetics.

When you deal with the incel definition of attractiveness, you will develop an inferiority complex. You keep comparing and keep getting smaller and smaller.

There’s a discussion within the scene: who is a real incel? Who belongs? Is someone fucked enough to qualify? Multiple times my interviewees mentioned that they might not be “real” incels after all, because they have been on dates, for example. Because they don’t have an autism diagnosis, because they, god forbid, kissed a woman before. Online, men accuse each other of being fakecels or nearcels. Only who has tried everything without success is a real incel, a truecel. A subhuman.

Aside from this social Darwinism, there’s also surprisingly woke vocabulary in the community. Feminists are accused of gaslighting lonely men, talking them into believing that their solitude is their own fault. There is talk of “privilege,” like female privilege or sex-privileged men. Lonely women who want to belong to the community are accused of committing cultural appropriation. My culture is not your costume. I even discovered an inceldom pride flag. Lots of black and shades of gray.

Boys find each other on the web, the boys that in their class are at the bottom of the hierarchy. What do they do? The same that groups always do: build a status pyramid. They just invert it. The guy on top is the king of the losers.

They protect this inverted hierarchy too. Occasionally there are stories of incels developing hope or believing in themselves, and they are kicked off the forums. This phenomena has a name: the crab bucket.

Throw a few live crabs into a bucket and they begin to crawl up the walls. They step on each other. In their attempt to climb, the lower crabs pull the upper ones down. The same thing happens in incel forums. Those who hope are ridiculed, those who develop a strategy insulted, and those who make progress banned.

Incel culture is growing. Its engine is hopelessness.

I once talked with an incel that embodied this well. He lives in the north of Germany, his user name on Reddit is remarkable box. It was a joy to talk to him. He didn’t mention any studies; he talked of his “boys”: his friends, his sisters, college sports, loving parents.

I noted: “Happy incel?”

Then he said that if you put a thousand men into a room and him next to them, he’d surely be the ugliest.

Remarkable, 23, has stopped talking to his parents or friends about his relationships with women. They’d only encourage him. They’d tell him that he’ll find someone, that he’s attractive enough. He says it hurts him.

Hurts?

Remarkable fights with himself a little. If someone encourages him, it only causes the opposite. He could grow hopeful, which in turn leads to trying again—and getting disappointed again. To be sure of the future, that’s got a worth of its own.

He explains with an example. “The winner of the silver medal always looks sadder than the guy with bronze on the photos, right? I’m the guy with bronze. I’ve accepted how my life is.” With “his life” he means his friends, his sport, the good relationship with his family, and the fact he’ll never have a girlfriend. “If I start believing now that I could truly win gold and fail in the attempt, then I would be the guy with the silver medal. I’d be less happy than now.” So he doesn’t try. He keeps his bronze medal.

Remarkable exchanged hope for security. That’s the promise of the black pill. It protects: who doesn’t try can’t fail. Incel scientist Andrew Thomas told me that incels share a psychological disposition. They posses, what psychologists call “external control conviction”: the idea that what happens to you in life doesn’t have anything to do with you, but that outside forces are responsible, immutable forces: your own ugly bone structure. The impossible-to-fulfill standards of modern dating culture. That’s why incels collect hoards of studies. That’s why they built their own wiki, with an entry titled “The scientific black pill.” If you copy it into a Microsoft Word document, it’s nearly 300 pages.

All this work just to prove that they will fail, no matter what they do.

The black pill isn’t really a collection of studies. It’s not science; it’s not even ideology. It’s just the conviction that it’s safest at home. It’s depression, disguised as a way to view the world.

8. Intelligent, empathetic and cute

In Vienna, while meeting sprixxles, I started talking to a Russian woman on Reddit called pristine cost. Months back she dove into the incel world, seeking to understand these weird, unhappy men living in the privileged West. They are a puzzle her: how can intelligent men believe such a thing?

The smart and empathetic posts from sprixxles impressed her. She messaged him. They chatted. They became friends.

I wanted to talk to her, so we called on Discord. She told me she really likes sprixxles, that there are a lot of good things about him. His biggest problem is that he’s locked up emotionally. “He doesn’t show anyone how great he is.” It’s really difficult to break out of this pattern. He needs a helping hand. A shove. In the conversation it became clear that she understands herself as the woman to shove him. She encouraged him to buy new clothes. She’s gradually encouraging him to follow his dream of a doctorate thesis.

Believing in yourself doesn’t happen through thought, but through experience. By leaving your room and doing things that are hard and wonderful. By achieving things that could also fail and learning that you are stronger and more attractive than originally believed.

My roleplay friends and I, we once were crabs in a bucket. We tried for a long time to climb out of it. We even started a band; I was the bass player, because everyone knows how to play bass. A friend taught me the guitar and told me that I have a beautiful voice. On some weekends we no longer played role-playing games, but guitar. We sat around camp fires, in large groups that weren’t just boys. With one of my friends, we went on holiday, where we met two women, nearly thirty, both telling us how they had had enough of men. The hotel was otherwise full of old pensioners, and we had brought our guitars, so we helped make their evenings more interesting. After one such drunken guitar evening we both lost, as elderly men at the start of our 20s, our virginities. As if we had agreed to a pact to make it all appear like the plot of a high school comedy.

We climbed out of the bucket, but we offered each other our shears.

After my conversation with pristine, I met sprixxles a last time. I told him that pristine finds him intelligent and empathetic and nice. “She also said that you’re cute.”

“Okay,” he says and laughs in a shy fashion.

“And that it’s insane that a woman hasn’t snagged you yet.”

“Okay,” he says again.

Recently he hung up a full-length mirror in his living room. Pristine told him to work on his style. Could this perchance be a careful small step back into dating?

“Probably,” he says.

“Maybe,” he says.

“Let’s see,” he says.

In the near future he has to solve problems at work.

Of course, pristine said, one can live life without romantic love, and be even satisfied with it. But with sprixxles, she says, it’s just a question of time till he finds a woman. “It’s just impossible not to, with him,” she says.

Let’s wish him luck.

As a kid and young teen I used to be the kind of smartass aspiring nerd that I assume some of you were as well and many of you encountered at some point: smart, interested in technology, cool music, and anything non-mainstream, but with less than stellar social skills, lacking the knowledge and wisdom that you get by actually doing things instead of talking about them, and with not many friends, because few people around me shared my interests.

I did have some friends in the offline world who were quite similar, but they each lived in a different town and we only saw each other a couple times per year. The upside of that was that we valued every meeting all the more, where we talked, listened to newly discovered music (this was pre-Spotify but also pre-Youtube), played video games either in splits-creen or just by taking turns in an interesting singleplayer game, rode bikes around and did lots of more or less dumb shit.

Most of us grew out of this phase and became... well, we became nerds, but ones who were more or less well-adjusted and social, with our own friend groups, girlfriends, interests and hobbies that we actually participated in and not just talked about.

Nick was less lucky. He was perhaps the most stereotypical of us all, both in the type and depth of his interests and in his inability to meaningfully participate in them or to participate in society in general, really. Looking back, many things about him make much more sense if I think of him as autistic - not something you grow out of. Perhaps a diagnosis would help him accept this and adapt, but he had a dislike of any kind of institutions and doctors specifically.

I didn't mind though. He understood some of the things I liked, much more than the average person, especially a person my age. I used to hate electronic music, and Nick was the guy who gave me a CD with some early jungle and drum'n'bass, which was my entry drug.

Of course, the file called something like "jungle <date> <author>.mp3" was actually terrible early drum'n'bass, and the file called "drum and bass mix.mp3" was actually a brilliant jungle set - I'm quite sure it was Kemistry & Storm, sounded something like this, only without the MC and even junglier.

He also introduced me to some instrumental hip-hop like DJ Krush, whose music I sometimes listen to to this day, and Art of Noise, which I'm frankly not a huge fan of these days, but it served as a great counter-argument in the early-to-mid days of online nerdom when many otherwise smart people thought that all electronic music is stupid.

Of course I gave him music that I discovered as well. And we also exchanged videogames, old DOS games, new releases, but also some great shareware and freeware games often meant for hot-seat multiplayer, with up to four kids sitting around one keyboard, which was amazing fun for many hours. Being twelve years old buys with access to a CD burner, we natually exchanged other things as well.

The interesting thing is that despite his in retrospect likely autism, he seemed quite socially resilient. When he was I think 8 years old, his parents travelled from a poor, only briefly free and democratic Czechia, to a large city in Texas for a year, where his mother was to teach at an inner city high school through an exchange programme.

That year brought a ton of interesting stories, it was a shock for all of them, but that's a different topic. He returned with drastically improved English skills, prejudice against obese people and mild racism towards black people. Hey, don't look at me, I'm just telling it how it is.

The interesting thing is that racism was very much alive and present in Czechia at that time, but not against black people. Our history is completely different in that regard, so it was very common for people to say "I hate Gypsies, but I have nothing against Black people, Black people are cool." This changed later as we basically imported American racism as a side effect of importing more and more American media, though we still neither commonly practice nor truly understand (likely applies to me as well) this kind of racism.

As we grew up and stopped meeting twice a year, for new year's eve and during summer vacation, we lost touch. The last good thing I did for him was sending him an invite to my favorite local discussion board, which is to this day the only general purpose discussion board I know of that is much better than Tildes.

I think I hadn't seen him for at least a decade when a friend of our parents', whom we also knew well, unexpectedly died. We all met at a memorial party some time after the funeral, talked and played board games. Nick was invited to play table football, but couldn't join because for some reason he was losing the ability to grip things firmly and accurately.

It was quite new, so he nervously joked about it. Some of the other people present tried to get him to a good neurologist early through their connections (and failed). It took I think about a year until he got his diagnosis: not a rare, aggressive type of multiple sclerosis, but ALS, the thing with the ice bucket challenge, the thing Stephen Hawking had. He was 32 years old.

To this day I have no idea if there's any medication that can at least slow it down, because his personality and "social resilience" meant that he rejected all institutional help. This made it quite hard for his aging parents too. He hated having his hair touched but also later couldn't really wash it or brush it himself. He hated getting help in general, so he dressed himself for as long as he could, even when it took him two hours to put on a t-shirt.

This is all irrational and stupid. It was also all granted to him untill the very end, and so untill the very end he was allowed to keep his dignity in that way.

The sad part is that I only know all of this from second-hand information. I can't say I was indifferent, but when he was diagnosed we hadn't been in any contact for a decade, we weren't friends anymore. And through all that time I have been battling a chronic illness of my own that is unlikely to kill me, but that limits my life a lot, and when it doesn't, I have so many things I want or need to do when I suddenly can. I also live on the opposite side of the country, however small it is.

That said, of course I could have messaged or visited him if I truly wanted to. By the time I thought about it, he was barely able to speak and at that point I frankly didn't have the balls to do it. Of course, he normally refused to see anyone, he did not want to be seen like that, but he did sometimes accept people he knew from childhood.

A few months ago, he started having breathing problems. It may not have been the ALS progression yet but an infection, so despite his hate of doctors and hospitals, his parents managed to convince him to get hospitalized. He was just barely able to swallow tiny bits of food at that point, so he still had something like a breakfast with his parents, very underweight but without a feeding tube.

During the night he died, aged 38. If you know about ALS, you know there is some mercy in this. Dying at home with your family is always preferable, but with ALS that commonly means gradually losing the ability to breathe and slowly suffocating.

The saddest thing about Nick is that his life was marked by unfulfilled potential. He was not very socially competent and very impractical, but also quite intelligent and undoubtedly capable... of something. But he never managed to find the something. Worked a basic tech job for which he was not overqualified exactly, but certainly sharper than the job required (though I'm not entirely sure how he felt about it). Didn't really build anything for himself. As far as I know he never was with a woman despite almost certainly wanting to. I don't think he was particularly happy with his life either. And he never got the chance to change that.

Seeing myself in the slideshow of photos from his life during the funeral only made it more apparent how important our group of friends was in his life. The funeral took place in a neighboring town because the town where he lived only has a church next to the graveyard, not a secular ceremonial building, and he wouldn't want to have his funeral in a church. We all came, his family came, and so did his work colleagues, some of whom cried as well.

After the funeral we talked and ate and drank in his parents' flat. One that they will be forced to leave soon after probably nearly 30 years, moving into a smaller one and getting rid of some of their stuff. Through a slit in the door I saw a glimpse of what I assume was furniture and/or machines designed to make care easier, obtained despite his hardheadedness.

Okay, wipe your tears.

When I was a kid, Pornhub didn't exist. At some point we got Shoutcast, online radios and TVs thanks to which you could literally watch porn in Winamp, but before that me and my classmates sometimes watched a porn VHS one of us found in their parents' bedroom, and we also swapped CDs with porn. Those were hard to come by (no, don't say it), so each was precious, and during breaks in school we would talk about who's hotter, whether Amanda or Natascha. We were probably 12 years old when this started and I think we all turned out fine despite that.

Well, the one thing I got from Nick and never returned is a CD with his handwriting saying "P.vids .mpg open". When the three videos he burned on the CD didn't fill it entirely, he didn't finalize the burning process so that more could be added later, he was practical like that.

After remembering that something like this probably exists, I went through a box of my old stuff at my parents' house and actually found it. I still own an old laptop with an optical drive, so I put the CD in, but it failed to read. I tried cleaning the laser lens with a q-tip just in case because it looked dusty, and it really worked. VLC, one of the best free applications ever, naturally came (no!!) through as well.

The "last modified" date on each of the three files said December 19th, 2003. Obviously I looked at the videos, and it turns out that we were completely normal heterosexual boys with completely normal tastes. Not surprising, but nice to have a confirmation. One of the girls had Garfield socks, something that I remembered and laughed when I saw it so many years later.

This CD truly is the only physical thing that I ever got from him, as far as I know. I mean, there may have been some small things we exchanged as kids, but those were lost to time, whereas the CD rested among CDs of 70s French avantgarde and old Manowar albums.

I really don't need to explain how sad the whole situation was. But this one stupid CD gave it a funny and honestly kind of cool twist, which also made it easier to share this whole situation with various friends of mine who never met him, and who very much appreciated the absurdity, wholesome and morbid at the same time.

So now you can too.