I mean it. I love Ferris Bueller, but this whole modern nice guy is entitled to the girl thing originated with him and convinced an entire generation of boys who didn’t have the qualities women wanted, or allowed themselves to be spineless doormats, that somehow, they were entitled to whatever girl they were into, without any regard for the girl’s own agency.

And if she doesn’t want him, then it’s always what a bitch. Or why does she always go for the asshole?

Well, maybe he’s not an asshole. Maybe he’s confident. Maybe he’s funny or intelligent or takes care of his physical appearance better than you. Maybe desperation isn’t a good look.

All I’m saying is John Hughes taught a generation of boys that it was not their fault that a woman wasn’t into them; that they were entitled to a woman’s body without putting in any of the effort to become the kind of person to whom that woman might be attracted.

And these same boys secretly held, whether consciously or subconsciously, the same misogynist beliefs that they claimed to abhor, by assuming that any woman was theirs by sole right of their maleness.

Pathetic, ain’t it. Fuck Ducky. Fuck Sixteen Candles. Fuck any of the spineless “nice guys” who think turning themselves into pathetic little bitches entitles them to a goddamn thing.

Fuck incels.

But not literally.

That’s kind of the point.

Target: 1000 words
Written: 1865 words, short story: Forest Edge

Read: Radical Acceptance, Tara Brach
Comics: Pitt: In The Blood 1, Pitt 12-13, Hulk/Pitt 1
Music: No Code, Pearl Jam