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But here's the thing: While I wouldn't call Michael handsome, he struck me as a fine, average-looking guy.
"She started kissing me," Michael recalls, obviously still a little proud.
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.
But nothing ever materialized—not a single kiss in four years.
Looking back now, Michael blames his inability to read signs.
In his immediate family, which includes his divorced parents, a sister, and a brother, his mom is the only one he talks to about his nearly nonexistent love life, and then only sparingly.
I'm tired because it's hard to look directly at the fact that some people, for all kinds of reasons, end up desperately alone, feeling frozen out of the joys of love and sex—joys that our culture is forever celebrating.
Start envisioning a world where WOMEN FEAR YOU." Michael has nothing but scorn for Rodger, not just because of his senseless, horrific crimes, but also because his behavior demonizes chronically celibate men.
Guys who can't get women aren't just losers and weirdos anymore.
Almost everyone I told about this article asked me, almost instantly, whether he was ugly—as in ugly to an extent that it would explain his sexlessness.
The question made me sad, and resistant to describing Michael at all, as if to do so were to put my stamp of approval on our whole hierarchy of beauty.
I heard the woman calling Michael's name before he did. The woman, thirtyish and friendly-looking, was under-dressed for the cold October day and kept moving in place to keep herself warm. A member of the opposite sex was nerve-racking enough, and I figured that I was adding to his stress—that Michael feared I'd inadvertently reveal why I came to Boston to meet him.