My Life As Philippe LeBlond: A Bumble Experiment

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No matter how I approach it, my Tinder/Bumble conversations tend to go something like this:

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In this instance, I was completely honest with this woman. To be met with such hostility proved frustrating, not to mention soul crushing. In her pursuit of cunthood, this individual pissed all over the image of someone I loved (for better or worse). Ah well, the risks of vulnerability as a man in a post-modern world...

...but, as the stick-wielding guy from TWD is fond of saying, 'Everything gets a return'. So why shouldn't I help the karmic process along and post her here for all to see?

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Rate her, if you're so inclined.

In the aftermath of this failed interaction, I followed in the footsteps of many a Sluthater by creating a fraudulent Bumble profile with real-esque pictures of a male model. The initial intent was to play with (and ultimately quash) the hopes and dreams of those who, for so long, had done the same to me. The results of such an undertaking, however, were hardly what I expected.

On top of my overall goal, I set a few ground rules in order to keep the charade going as long as possible. These days mobile dating is a little tricky. Bumble, for example, gives women full control over whether a conversation will occur, but also makes it more difficult for normal/ugly men to get their foot in the door by implementing an optional verification process. This is more a detriment to people like me who desire to game the system, but probably also sucks for people playing their bullshit game.

Provided the individual I would be portraying (Canadian model Philippe Leblond), acting immature, erratic, or contrary to a man living a life of validation would all but guarantee a quick boot from the platform. To combat this I would take a 'slow burn' approach, evading questions regarding Philippe's Instagram and/or other social profiles until absolutely necessary, at which point I would lead the interested party to believe I, in fact, was Philippe and was using a pseudo identity to avoid the onslaught of female admirers who only wanted me for my fame.

Absurd as this tactic sounds, I was surprised at how often it worked - and quite swimmingly at that. It was a reminder that women are hard-coded to pass on their likeness with the healthiest suitor possible. It also became evident that these women wanted to believe Myles (the pseudo) was real, much to the dismay of their gut instincts. But enough mental masturbation...for your enjoyment I'll begin with a short clip to illustrate the scope of Myles' success:



I did attempt to demonstrate Myles' consecutive match pattern in real time (in and of itself an unreal experience), but for whatever reason no one was biting at 3am. This experiment took place across a 2-week time frame and spanned the cities of Austin, New York, and Montreal (thanks to a GPS selector app). What follows are some of my favorite conversations.

I know Bumble lets women make the first move, but the disproportionate ratio of my messages to hers was startling. This also marks the debut of one of Myles' favorite phrases, the obligatory 'haha'...

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So much for theories like 'trying'. Also, emojis are only creepy if you're ugly...

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Starts off innocent enough...

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...but escalates quickly (#metoo)...

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The first of many challenges...

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Though, as I said, they WANT to believe (Fox Mulder Syndrome). I attempted to raise her hopes...

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She challenged again, so I resorted to the above method...

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As a side note, I had initially stuck a picture of Tim Williams (aka Trivago Guy) in my photo stream and claimed he was my mentor. Here is the exact picture:

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At this point it doesn't matter if I live out of a panel van...which LeBlond actually does...

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Pick a hobby...any hobby...

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I'm no segue genius, but we were talking about hiking...

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Added a little creep factor in just to see...

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Wtf...

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I knew women could be desperate, but it's nice to be reminded. Since I'm a writer, I responded in character...

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...and was showered in verbal praise...

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...Then she lies about loving to ski to either a.) test that I'm Philippe (whose Instagram reveals he went skiing recently) or b.) try to get in Philippe's pants...

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Literally call her an elf...

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She loves it, of course...so I bring out the clichés...

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Number time...only to cancel...

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...But she's fine with that. I sit in awe of life on God mode...

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I guess women do 1.) make the first move and 2.) come on strong...

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Google voice to the rescue...

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...Followed by infinite forgiveness...

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It was time to come clean about my living situation...

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She wants so badly to believe I'm Philippe, even after testing my knowledge of a place he just visited...

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So many possibilities...

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I went with my gut...

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More suspicion cast on the presence of Trivago Guy...

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But not enough to dissuade an attempt at fucking...

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It began to feel redundant...

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...

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Effort and women?

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I pressed for answers...

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Her profile was adamant about not being asked about the weather...

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Since Philippe can do no wrong, I was able to share a little of myself without being skewered by assholery...it was nice...

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Though I'm fairly certain she doesn't really watch Curb...

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Despite the topic...

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...The conversations just flowed...

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One more point for Trivago Guy...

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This seemed good a place as any to retire Philippe...

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In all honesty, I wasn't prepared for the euphoria associated with this process. I set out to destroy and expected to remain indifferent, but in many instances I succumbed to the simple pleasure of having the upper hand. I was not only mistaken for a human, but one who merited adoration. Though I knew my role was fraudulent in nature, and therefore more akin to Sisyphus (I would never be able to enjoy the spoils of my labor), I found myself enamored with the opposite sex's prowess and desire for Myles/Philippe.

I know there are far better examples of woman's duality, cold-bloodedness, and downright savage nature sprinkled all over this site. There was something else I learned from this process, however. When a person advances in a class system, their reality is reborn. The rage I had for Jamie in the beginning, for example, was replaced by an easygoing and tempered nature as I took on the narrative and likeness of LeBlond. Most surprising was how quickly my anger dissipated.

As the experiment proceeded, I noticed my outlook in real life becoming lighter. I laughed more and dissected things less. All temporary, of course, but blissful nonetheless. I would suggest all incels go through such an exercise, if only to derive a volatile sense of worth.

Until next time (though probably never)...

TLDR: Online dating is a rigged system in favor of women. I used this construct for a psychological boost by playing on womankind's desire/expectation of a 10/10 prince, and you can too.




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