Experiences – Life – Inspiration 🇨🇭🇯🇵

Lonely men exist everywhere. Lonely women do too. What differs is not the presence of loneliness, but how societies interpret it and what stories they offer people when life does not unfold as expected.

I did not set out to think about this topic. It found me by accident.

I was browsing through my YouTube feed the other day, clearing my viewing history to reset the algorithm. A small digital reset. As the feed refreshed, a title about incels appeared. I realized I had never heard the word before. Curiosity kicked in, so I clicked and started reading.

At first, I assumed it might be the Western equivalent of hikikomori, the Japanese term for people who withdraw almost completely from social life. But the more I read, the clearer it became that this was something else. Loneliness was part of it, yes, but it had taken on a very specific and unfamiliar shape.

Loneliness itself is not new. In the 80s and 90s, many people struggled with dating, felt invisible, or wondered why life seemed to work out more easily for others. Men and women alike. The difference was that loneliness stayed personal. You carried it quietly. You did not turn it into an identity. There was no shared language for it, and no online space constantly reinforcing it. You simply hoped time would do its work.

What surprised me about incel culture was not the loneliness. What surprised me was how loneliness had hardened into a story. In some spaces, romantic frustration no longer appeared as something painful but temporary. It became a fixed explanation for how the world works. Responsibility shifted outward. Blame found direction. Loneliness stopped being something someone experienced and became something someone was.

Living in Japan made the contrast clearer. Japan has no shortage of lonely men. Some withdraw almost completely and are described as hikikomori. Others remain socially functional but disengage from dating and relationships, sometimes referred to as sōshoku-kei danshi, or herbivore men. There are also men casually labeled hi-mote, meaning unpopular in dating, often said with a touch of humor or self awareness rather than anger.

What stands out is not the absence of loneliness, but the absence of an ideological identity around it. These terms describe behavior or circumstance, not grievance. Anger is rarely directed outward. Loneliness here tends to turn inward. Shame rather than outrage. Withdrawal rather than confrontation. Silence rather than visibility.

This difference becomes even clearer when looking at lonely women.

Lonely women exist in both cultures, but their loneliness is framed differently. In Western societies, female loneliness is often understood as emotional rather than sexual. It is talked about in terms of connection, disappointment, delayed partnership, or unmet expectations around family life. Women are generally more permitted to speak about loneliness, to seek support, to share vulnerability with friends or therapists. That does not make the loneliness easier, but it gives it a socially acceptable outlet.

In Japan, lonely women face a different kind of pressure. Expectations around timing, marriage, and life stages weigh heavily. Loneliness is often internalized as personal failure or bad timing rather than something openly discussed. Like men, women are expected to endure quietly and not burden others. The difference is that women are often still more socially connected, even when romantically alone, while men are more likely to fully withdraw.

Across both cultures, a subtle pattern emerges. Men tend to experience loneliness as a status failure, something tied to identity, worth, and external validation. Women tend to experience loneliness as emotional absence, a lack of depth, safety, or intimacy. Neither is easier. They are simply different shapes of the same pain.

Over time, loneliness does not remain a single experience. It compounds differently depending on age, expectations, and the windows a society quietly opens or closes. That changes not just how loneliness feels, but how it is interpreted.

This helps explain why there is no real female equivalent of incel culture. It is not because women are never lonely. It is because loneliness framed as emotional absence, rather than entitlement or injustice, is less likely to harden into ideology. When pain has room to be spoken, it is less likely to turn into something rigid and resentful.

None of this suggests that one culture has it figured out. They simply fail in different directions.

In simplified terms, Western loneliness often gets externalized. It looks for causes, systems, someone to blame. Japanese loneliness is more often internalized. It becomes quiet endurance, disappearance into routine, carrying things alone.

The deeper issue, I think, is not sex or dating success. The real issue is meaning. What story does a society offer someone when life does not unfold the way they imagined. When they fall behind expectations around relationships, work, or adulthood.

Does the story say you were wronged. Or does it say endure quietly. Neither leaves much room for healing.

Loneliness becomes most damaging not when it exists, but when it has nowhere healthy to go. When it cannot be spoken honestly. When it is either amplified into identity or buried into silence.

Lonely men have always existed. Lonely women have too. Loneliness does not mean someone is broken. It also does not mean the world owes them anything. It means they are human, navigating expectations that did not quite fit.

The real question is not why loneliness exists. The question is what kind of stories we give people when they fall behind the life they thought they would live.