A Red Pill YouTuber Tore My Article Apart

Canadian Feminist Writer DESTROYED By Ultra-Rational Pickup Artist

I live in a few bubbles.

I don’t go out much. I don’t know a lot about pop culture. I usually find out about current events long after they stop being current.

I also tend to think that no one has heard of me outside of Medium.

Oh, but how wrong I am about that last one.

Mr. Austin was poking around Google, trying to find one of my older articles. Instead, he came across an 18 minute YouTube video by a Red Piller who read through one of my pieces and tore it apart.

We dropped everything we were doing and sat down together to watch it. And we laughed and laughed and laughed. Then I read the 347 comments on the video and laughed some more. The whole thing punched me right in the giggle dick.

The article was I Dumped Two Nice Guys So I Could Date a Jerk. The YouTuber in question uses it to analyze the female mind.

Yep. My personal narrative of dating as a confused 17-year-old is apparently your window into the very heart of womanhood.

I’m not actually going to share the video or link to it. Although the whole thing made me laugh, it is absolutely hateful and vile misogyny. These are not ideas I want to spread at all, and I don’t want to give this guy any money beyond my two cents.

Even though he didn’t upset me, he did manage to make me feel old. I had to keep looking up the lingo he used (simp, orbiter) and the names he called me (thot, double dick clutcher). For that reason alone, I’d be willing to withhold the hyperlink.

I don’t want to share his video, but I do want to share a few choice quotes from it and offer my thoughts about them.

I’m Kind of a Big Deal

“Her name is Emma Austin. You might have heard of her from other controversial articles like I Wish I Never Faked an Orgasm and A Handjob Is Always Good Enough and I Showed My Husband How I Really Mastur-you-know-what.”

(Oh, by the way, he censors all of the swear words when he’s quoting my article. I guess he wants to make sure he doesn’t upset anyone sensibilities while he’s hardcore slut shaming me.)

Okay, so, am I like legit famous now? Red pillers know me from my controversial articles!? What have I done to deserve all this attention?

My SEO game must be more on point than I realized.

Hockey, Maple Syrup, and Women’s Rights

“She’s from Canada, the land of the feminists.”

That’s weird. I thought the land of the feminists was somewhere in Scandinavia.

It’s true that Justin Trudeau is nothing but a pretty face we hide behind to further our feminist agenda. I just wonder what gave us away.

Is it because of all the plaid we wear?

Or because we made the beaver our national animal?

(That one was a little on the nose.)

The Polyamorous Triad of My Dreams

“Wait. So you were double dick clutching two men at the same time?! Uh, Emma that’s called cheating.”

I wish I was double dick clutching two men at the same time!

This is my first time hearing the term “double dick clutch” and I know it’s meant to be disparaging but doesn’t that just sound fun?

I mentioned in the article that I went back and forth between two guys, dating each of them in turn. They were both aware of this. When I left one, the other was waiting around, eager to take me back. So, sadly, I wasn’t actually double clutching any dicks.

It’s something I strongly aspire to, though. My idea of domestic bliss is to have two men sharing a little home with me.

I’m a long-term relationship, loyal, let’s-get-married-and-stay-together-until-we-die type of gal. I just want it times two.

A dick for each hand — is that really too much for a girl to ask?

I can’t believe this guy repeatedly referred to double dick clutching like it’s a bad thing. My only concern is that I lack the coordination to do it well. But the practice should be fun — it’s kind of like skiing but with dicks and in the comfort of my own bed.

And I’m halfway there because I have married a husband who is in full support of my life aspiration. He’s quite fond of double handjob porn, so when I talk about what I’d like to do with my hands, he uses his to give me two big thumbs up.

(By the way, since we discovered this video, Mr. Austin and I have made repeated references to double dick clutching, including several times while walking through Walmart. Sadly, I found no dicks worth clutching at Walmart, but I’ve got my polyamorous radar on at all times.)

So, Can I Get into the Club or What?

(In reference to why things didn’t work out with my boyfriends) “Emma, maybe it’s you. Maybe you’re just not that interesting of a person.”

Hey now wait a minute, Sir. I thought I was the girl writing all these controversial articles you red pillers are all reading and tut-tutting over. Give me some credit, here!

Soy Boy Love

“Uber metrosexual. Mhmm. That’s what they like nowadays. You know it’s funny because a lot of people make fun of soy boys, but I’ve noticed where I live — maybe because I live in a very feminist city — a lot of women love that soy boy look, that metrosexual / soy boy look.”

If you’ve never heard the term, a “soy boy” is this loose term that’s supposed to describe men who have been overly feminized. That usually just means not acting like an alpha asshole, wearing skinny jeans, or not being condescending to women.

You know how a broken clock will tell the right time twice a day? Well, he nailed it. I am a bona fide soy boy chaser.

The first time I met a soy boy, I married that motherfucker. And he was a full-blown, level 5 soy boy: long hair (trimmed now, thankfully), completely vegan diet, perfectly respectful, empathetic and not emotionally stunted.

I love everything about soy boys. They even have the nicest underwear. What’s not to love?

In fact, my ideal scenario is to double dick clutch a pair of soy boys and I spend a couple of hours a day manifesting it.

Emma Austin: Secret Junkie

(In response to saying that my boyfriend tried to limit my drug and alcohol use) “You would be a jump-off at best if I was dealing with you. These cokeheads, they’re everywhere.”

Okay, sir, get your facts straight. I have done cocaine exactly once in my life and I didn’t even like it. It just made me want to talk a lot, but not in a fun way. I much prefer LSD, shrooms, and ecstasy (though I haven’t done any of those in over a decade so you can get off my dick).

What I am is a pothead. I blaze every day of the week.

Who can even afford cocaine these days anyway? (Not a writer of controversial Medium articles, I’m sad to report.)

I didn’t actually go into detail in the article about this, but my abusive boyfriend got drunk about once a week. I did the same thing, but he tried to get me to stop. He hated it because he insisted that me being drunk would mean I’d cheat on him (apparently, he was the paragon of self-restraint and I was just a floozy).

But when the subject of him being controlling came up, the YouTuber and the other red pillers in the comments seem to assume that he was just trying to help me improve my life. Because, apparently, I was dating a life coach, not a complete asshole.

Make My Booty Clap

“Maybe it’s you. Maybe you’re just not an interesting person. Maybe they were just trying to clap your cheeks because that’s all you’re good for.”

Well, now I’m just not sure what to say. I’ve been called a PAWG and squats are part of my daily routine, so yeah, my ass is pretty clappable.

I can’t clap it myself, though, so does it still count? I have no idea. I don’t really know the ins and outs of cheek-clapping. I guess I could reach back and give it a spank. Is that enough?

And there was that time my husband went to town on my backside, so I guess I really do fit the bill.

I think this was meant to be another insult, but it didn’t bother. As a Medium writer, I really can’t take offense at being told the only thing I’m good for is claps.

A Picture Is Worth a Thousand Troll Comments

“Now I did try to find a picture of this Emma chick. I couldn’t find it. She is very secretive. She doesn’t really show who she is, so I don’t know what she looks like. I can’t really say.”

This is maybe the darkest part of the video for me. I can’t help but wonder just what the hell he would have said if he did find a picture of me. Nothing good, I’m sure.

And I bet the goat rodeo going on in the comment section would’ve somehow managed to become an even more offensive shit show.

I’m not thin. I don’t look like a model. I sometimes dress a bit frumpy. But I still have a fucking right to share my stories and have opinions, no matter what I look like.

I haven’t shared my photo yet — other than a wisp of hair — but I’ve been pretty honest about what I look like, so it’s not like some big secret.

At the risk of sounding like I’m typing out a profile for a dating app, here goes. I’m kind of chubby. I’m a watered-down hipster with rimmed glasses and purple hair. I have ghostly white skin. I’m in my early 30s with four kids but people often think I’m a young college student, not a mom (I’m not bragging, it just means I get worse service from waiters).

Oh, and most importantly, I’m a double dick clutcher.

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