I've also been laboring to determine the exact relationship between the person in front of me and the website he runs. "I don't know," Michael says again, then looks me in the eye. " MICHAEL FIRST discovered in his final year at a small liberal arts college in western Massachusetts, where he studied film.
For several weeks, I'd checked in on almost daily, and much of what I read there was blithely misogynistic—nothing as extreme as what Rodger posted, but pretty dark. Four years prior, he'd arrived anticipating, like so many, a fresh start with dating and sex.
He frequently went off the record or sidestepped answering me directly. It's late, the sun has set, and we're both exhausted.
He emphasized that he'd never liked the "incel" idea in the first place ("It's just a dumb term") and that he no longer even thinks of himself as love-shy. Michael is tired because, on and off for more than 24 hours, he's been stitching together a story he rarely tells in full, even to those closest to him.
Now they're losers, weirdos, and potential monsters.