Eddy & The Incel / Part 1

Eddy carried a fan. An outdated tool, perhaps, but one wielded with ruthless efficiency. Behind its silk screen hid a distasteful moue, as he rendered judgement on the assembled strangers in the coffee shop like a queen judging her courtiers and finding not a single one suitable. The fan waved in miniscule movements, as the heavy A/C required no additional circulation.

Every few moments the fan would snap shut with finality, as Eddy sipped his nonfat-mocha-latte-extra-hot-no-whip-and-cocoa-sprinkles-please-and-thank-you with poise and deliberation. Conversation vexed Eddy. Yet he could sit idly by no longer.

His subject sat next to the window grasping a cell phone with chubby, clumsy fingers and wearing a facial expression that screamed “coddled and confused” to Eddy’s knowing eye. Already the telltale signs clicked together like so many Lego bricks in his mind, building the blueprint of a character as yet unassembled but easily defined.

The sweatpants hid an average overweight American youth gut. The anime t-shirt depicting some raging male steroidal character signaled a lack of realistic gender standards. The sloppy, uncut hair and granola chin betrayed a loss of self care and a weight of self loathing that screamed “still lives at home” while whispering “mother lets me let myself go so it’s OK” in tones that made Eddy tsk. Breeders, indeed.

It was not Eddy’s burden in life to correct these errors of human judgement.

And yet...

Said youth had spent nearly two hours drinking an iced frappuccino that had left condensation rings all over the lacquered fake-wood tabletop, refusing to spend more than the minimal amount for free wi-fi access and a safe space to hide from the outside world, all whilst frantically posting into the virtual one. He jumped at sudden movements like a squirrel, eyeing happy strangers with a glare that bespoke resentment as well as envy, particularly when his gaze fell upon women.

Eddy couldn’t take it any longer.

“Boy,” he said, loading the word with every ounce of polite ridicule he could muster, “have you ever seen a coaster?”

Another jump and this time the youth appeared absolutely terrified to be spoken to. His eyes drank in Eddy’s designer outfit - a loose white blouse over black slacks, gracefully accented by bracelets and reinforced black pumps - then landed, regretfully, on the fan like a fly might spy a swatter. “W-what??”

The fan snapped. “A coaster - that small square there, next to your grossly sweaty beverage? You’re meant to put that under the cup, sweetie.” He pointed with the fan for emphasis. “It keeps the table from getting wet.”

“Oh,” the youth looked down, his pale ears turning pinker. “Sorry - I didn’t know that’s what they were used for.” He fumbled to put plastic to cardboard, making futile wipes at the water droplets already accumulated on the table.

“Your poor mother. I shudder to think of her abused dinner table.” Eddy tsked again, the fan snapping back open as he wafted away his utter disappointment.

“I eat dinner in my room,” the youth muttered, barely audible as if trying to escape the conversation by audibly retreating from it. Sadly, Eddy’s hearing was a fine-tuned thing.

“That’s not healthy, you know,” he chided, still at full volume. “Distracted eating leads to overeating.”

The youth’s expression turned to outright horror. “That’s body shaming! I’m not fat!”

“I said ‘health’ not ‘heft’, deaf child, and my suggestion is nonetheless true.” The fan wafted, sending coffee shop vapors and disdain in equal portions across the room.

“You’re only saying that because I’m a boy,” the youth repeated stubbornly, and Eddy’s assumptions began clicking neatly together. “If I were a girl you wouldn’t judge me for being chubby.”

“I only judge people who don’t own their body image. You,” he gestured vaguely at the sad state of sweats, “obviously aren’t happy with yours, so don’t complain if I offer constructive criticism.”

“I never asked for it!”

“Honey, that shirt is asking for it. Are you aware they make tops that don’t start with ‘T’?”

“Please leave me alone,” the boy griped, turning away towards the window and clutching his phone like a lifeline.

“Suit yourself, darling, but I’m the only person here who’s bothered talking to you. If you wanted to be left alone why come out in public at all?”

“I just wanted to get away from my home, okay? It’s stressful sometimes.”

“Oh heavens, not stressful - how terrible for you.” The flatness of Eddy’s tone provided the perfect ramp for his eyes to roll down.

“You don’t understand!”

“I don’t understand what,” Eddy said, the edge of his tone now razor sharp. “Growing up as a constant disappointment to my father? Hearing my mother tell me I should act ‘more like a man’? Hiding who I was and accepting their judgement, telling me that God would smite me if I ever accepted who I was?”

The boy stayed silent, apparently unsure of how to respond so opting not to at all. His eyes remained defiant, signaling an internal monologue that made Eddy’s own go Oh, no you didn’t.

Out loud Eddy continued, “Look, you want to escape? There are no safe spaces in this world. You have to own the space you’re in.” He waved his fan in a wide, expansive arc. “Take this coffee shop. You’re sitting in my shop. Therefore if I deign to speak to you, you should count yourself lucky. Out of the dozens of people sitting in here you’ve merited my actual time and attention. Instead of taking it personally, you could at least feign polite interest and engage in a conversation. Even if you don’t like me, you could still learn something if you actually listened.”

.........

And to Eddy’s surprise, he did.

Unfortunately, every Friday afternoon at the same hour that Eddy made his regular appearance. Like a clockwork chick popping out of the nest to sit at its mother’s feet.

Oh lord...Eddy groaned inwardly after the third week. What have I done.