At 14, James* would lie awake at night, scrolling through forums that told him what he already feared: that he was broken, and no girl would ever want him.
He started shaping himself into someone he thought they would notice. Someone they couldn't ignore. Someone who knew how to manipulate, dominate, and control.
He thought it would make him powerful. At least, that's what the internet promised.
Instead, it nearly destroyed him.
First, listen to this episode of The Quicky for more on how young boys are being exposed to dangerous online ideologies and incel culture. Post continues below.
It started, like it does for so many teenage boys, with a crush.
James was awkward, a little heavier than the other kids, and desperately craving connection. A target of school bullies, James always felt as if he was on the outside — someone they'd "fly in for fun but not for serious topics".
When a girl showed him attention, it meant everything to him. But when she chose someone else, the hurt cracked him wide open.
"I felt like I f***ed up something and blamed myself," he told Mamamia. "Seeing other classmates getting into relationships, I really got the FOMO feeling and I really thought, 'Something is wrong with me'."
In his desperation, James stumbled across "pickup artist" content — a murky corner of the internet offering dating advice that quickly morphs into a toxic ideology.
The promises were seductive: Follow these rules. Say these lines. Control the interaction. Never be rejected again.
At first, it seemed like a harmless way out.
Then came the jargon: alphas and betas. Naturals and AFCs (Average Frustrated Chumps). HBs (Hot Babes) ranked out of 10. It was a whole language built around the idea that women were prizes to be won — if you played the game right.
"Eventually, it became all women are creatures driven by their natural instincts and if we can manipulate them, we can get laid," he said.
It was a trap that dragged him even deeper.
It never went as far as extreme incel ideologies like an outright hatred of female independence or that all failed dating attempts were proof of how he was destined to fail in life, James stressed. But it came close.
He started seeing every social group as a hierarchy.
"If someone was way below my league, I never even talked to him. Worse, I used them as a punching bag sometimes to look good for the girls," James said.
"If someone was just a little below my league, those were the guys I wanted to form a friend group with, because it made me the coolest guy in the group, all girls wanted to be with. And if someone was above my league I avoided him."
He wasn't connecting with people. He was strategising about how to look like the "alpha male".
And it worked — briefly. James could make a good first impression. But genuine friendships slipped through his fingers. Real intimacy was impossible.
It was a vicious cycle. Each rejection sent him spiralling deeper into red pill spaces, where manipulation was encouraged, and loneliness was treated as a personal failure.
Eventually, James couldn't pretend anymore.
"I became suicidal because no matter how I adopted these PUA stuff, I was a feeling creature underneath. I was lonely, had no friends, I fell in love with someone who didn't love me back."
Despite this, he still saw blindly himself as a "cool guy" who was improving his life with each pickup artist article he'd read.
It was his mother who saved him, encouraging him into group therapy. Even there, James struggled, trying to 'game' the group into liking him.
But solo therapy at 17, and time, helped him finally dismantle the walls he'd built.
"Therapy helped me understand myself better and it moved my self-centered view towards having more empathy," he said.
Today, he has healthy friendships, loving relationships, and no desire to ever "game" anyone again.
Now, he views PUA culture for what it really is: "a scheme to lure in unsuspecting lonely guys, feeding them buzzwords and luring them into money pits."
Hitting rock bottom
James' story isn't rare. In fact, it's frighteningly common.
Omar*, now 30, spent most of his teens and twenties stuck in the same spiral.
For the majority of his youth, he had "no idea" how to approach women.
"I felt like anyone who knew I was into them would feel creeped, betrayed, or burdened," he said.
Omar wasn't a loner — he had friends, a sense of humour, a good heart. But that internal voice, 'You're not enough. You'll never be enough', was loud.
At 25, Omar hit his lowest point. But he also hit a turning point.
"I am fundamentally tired of my own personality," he said. "I know deep down incel theory is incorrect. My friends are slowly giving up on me. I am willing to admit and revert any part of myself to get out of this pain."
He turned to therapy — specifically, one that focused on men's relationship issues. Slowly, he learned how to connect with women, rather than perform for them.
"I needed to just try to connect with women rather than be with someone hot to feel better about myself," he said.
Today, he's had two long-term relationships and says he finally feels "like a normal person — even hot sh** sometimes." But he's honest about where he came from.
"I'm pretty open with everyone about having been a former incel. It's a flaw, but people love the growth arc. People who judge it are usually hiding crude beliefs themselves."
In a corner of the internet, thousands of young men are still being taught the same lie: That domination is strength. That vulnerability is weakness. That women are something you win, not someone you love.
James and Omar proved that escape is possible. But the fight for connection — real, messy, human connection — has never been more important.
Especially for the boys who are still out there, scrolling at 2am, wondering what's wrong with them.
*Names changed for privacy.
To see more documents/articles regarding this group/organization/subject click here.