text: “One day, men will no longer have nipples.” “Why do you say that?” “Because male nipples are not evolutionarily necessary.” The hypothesis was put forth by Michael for the benefit of Jake, his friend. Dressed in immaculate suits, they were sitting in Jake's BMW drinking a coffee in the parking lot of a midtown coffee shop. They had been talking about sex and women, young specimens of which they were observing walking in and out of the coffee shop. It was a hot summer afternoon, and the ladies dressed lightly. Michael continued to expound his views on the sexual body: “I don’t understand the appeal of sex. It’s a sweaty, smelly act. The sexual organs are repulsive. Nothing shows that humans are animals better than sex. And the way two people become delusional about each other when they fall in love! I can’t stand that; the day before they were just some average Joe and some dumb cow, and the day after their magical conversion to love they are suddenly the king and queen of the universe. Talk about delusion.” “That’s your subjective view,” said Jake, “you can feel whatever way you want about it, but the fact is, sexuality is what potentiates the species. Without it, we go extinct in fifty years. So, the value of sex and of love is objective.” They were on a coffee break from work. They both worked in the downtown high rise of Stanford, an accounting giant. They were both single and in their mid-twenties, so of course they would talk about women. Jake was known to be a player. He changed girlfriends often; he dressed meticulously; he went on expensive vacations. In short, he spent the bulk of his energy and earnings in attracting women. Many women, not one. Michael was nothing of the sort. He had two sisters, so maybe that’s why women didn’t exert on him that charm that springs from mystery. How exactly was his relationship with his sisters, no one knew, but he certainly gave out a mild misogynistic vibe. At any rate, Michael did not try to impress women, though he could have. He had the same high-earning job as Jake, and he was as good in the looks department too. Jake opened to Michael about his romantic conquests because Michael didn’t get envious. Jake, to demonstrate his emotional sovereignty, told his stories with ironic detachment - he would describe victories as though they were not a big deal, and he would describe breakups as planned or at least expected on his part. Really, Jake’s stories were spiked with quite a dose of pessimism, and not much passion. And really, Jake also made up a lot of stuff, both to add to the bitter note, which Michael relished, and to embellish his accomplishments. They were corporate workers after all; embellishing one’s resume was a matter of common practice and unanimous suspension of disbelief. All things considered, it was hard to figure out whether Michael or Jake disliked women more. Michael however went more radical. He had been a regular on an incel forum on the deep web. That weekend, he was to stumble upon a post by a user named The\_Archangel that would change his life. At first the post read like another rant about the sexual degeneracy of the West. It lamented the devastating effects of the sexual revolution and pined for the days when a man had to marry to get access to a woman’s body. The post differed from the usual fare of the forum in that it ended in a big take on what religious tradition had to say on the question of sexual morality. It talked about how every human body is a temple of God, not to be defiled by carnal passion. It talked about Saint Augustine’s struggle with lust. It mentioned the saint’s famous Libertine’s Prayer: “Lord, make me chaste, but not yet.” Michael had never read a single piece of theology and was surprised that a major saint, a Doctor of the Church, would be a self-admitted former sex addict. Furthermore, he also found that he had not a few points of agreement with the religious revulsions towards sex, at least as they were described in the post. He downloaded Saint Augustine’s confessions and several other books of theology The\_Archangel recommended in his post. He searched for his references to see if they are true. The quoted text was indeed found, but he had to read around it to understand the context. On that first night he spent some twenty minutes on reading Confessions. “What a strange world!” thought Michael, “These old school dudes held some ridiculous beliefs, but in their own twisted way they were spot on with so many social issues. The way they talk about sexuality, it’s as though they had a Tinder account!” But that was not the end of it. Over the next week, he would read a little every night, and that little would expand gradually until he started reading theology every day, in the office and at home. He was addicted and curious to understand the worldview, though he often got bored and impatient with the whole God talk. His feelings about religious ideas of sex grew ambivalent. He appreciated the need for a strict moral code. He recalled watching his mother and his older sister live through romantic catastrophes, and he thought that in a more conservative world these things would never have happened. They would have been spared the emotional devastation they suffered. On the other hand, he was really bothered by what he saw as a tyrannical encroachment on individual freedoms, by the idea that the church should get involved into someone’s personal life. He was also bothered by how big of a deal they made of sex and everything else, and all those threats and fears of divine judgment and perdition. The more he read, the more his ambivalence turned into anger. “These religious people are a joke!” Michael said to Jake at another coffee run, “The hypocrisy is staggering! People hook up because they have uncontrollable animal urges and people get married to establish a social standing. That’s it, for the most part. Yet you talk to a priest and all he talks about is sin and punishment, totally disconnected from the real world.” “Yeah,” agreed Jake, “I don’t see how my relationship with this new girl Deborah has anything to do with holiness. Or heaven, or hell.” Michael started getting into arguments with The\_Archangel on new forum posts. Michael’s stance was that religion was not the answer to modern licentiousness because it could only cure it with deranged magical beliefs, which are not worth it, while his counterpart insisted that Michael is misinterpreting theological context because he was not properly trained in the discipline. “What a moron,” thought Michael, “I don’t even know who this Archangel dude is. For all I know, he could be a fourteen-year-old beating it off five times a day in his mom’s basement, and here I am arguing with him and upsetting my life. He clearly doesn’t know the first thing about how the sex game works.” His last polemic with Archangel was on Friday, throughout the workday, and it upset him to a point where he needed to blow off some steam. Jake suggested they hit a nightclub that night. “You need to get off Reddit, bro, or whatever it is you are on,” said Jake, “and join the real world. You come with me and we will do some hands-on research on the game. How’s that?” Michael normally hated nightclubs, but he went that night out of spite for The\_Archangel. He wanted to go out and observe what he knew happens in every nightclub: a general, drunken, and open struggle for mating partners. A Darwinian battle of all against all. Sometime past midnight Jake and Michael were quite drunk and standing at a bar of a packed nightclub. Jake worked restlessly to attract women to come and talk to them. His efforts eventually yielded two pretty girls, both slim and tall, one wearing shorts and another one a short white dress. The first talked to Jake, the second with Michael. “You look a little grumpy,” the girl said to Michael. Her name was Monica. Michael saw that the girl was beautiful. She had long legs and a curvy body, and her long hair spilled in rich curls down her smooth, shiny dress. Her smile made her face gleam, especially her eyes and her mouth. She smelled so nice, too. In response to her comment, Michael forced a smile, which wasn’t so hard. They introduced themselves to each other and did a few rounds of small talk. When Monica asked about what he thought about the club, Michael said that it was okay, but he didn’t really like clubs. He said that clubs are for people without social skills; they keep them too dark and too loud to communicate, so the only thing left to do is to get wasted and whore out. Monica said that he was maybe being too harsh, but Michael pushed on. He picked out people in the crowd and mocked their drunken, horny attics. Monica was amused. She said she didn’t go out often but liked coming out to clubs to dance with her girlfriends. “And I like the attention from the boys, but only if I like them,” she said, “But I think your opinions are funny. I can see where you are coming from. You are right, there is so many guys in here who are ridiculous! I can tell you some crazy stories about how they hit on me.” “There is no harm in that, I guess. I mean, you liking to have fun,” said Michael. “If I could meet a girl like you every time I go to a club, I would definitely come out more often, too.” Michael bought another round of drinks, then another. They danced together. They forgot where Jake went with the other girl. By two o’clock, they were making out in the washroom. By three o’clock they were in Michael’s downtown condo. The sex was amazing. All that anger built up on the online forum, all the resentment and rebellion Michael felt against Church fathers and all prigs in general, all of that became pent-up energy that he released while making love to Monica. He felt like a rebel, like he was giving a big-middle finger to all of them. And he felt like Monica was the only one who understood his feelings, the only one on his side against an unfeeling, idiotic world. He had never felt like that before.