Carefree bachelor or incel: men are judged for being single too
Reports of widespread “dating burnout” and a cultural shift towards heteropessimism – a feeling of disappointment or despair at the state of relations between men and women – have caused panic in the media and dating apps.
Cultural debates have emerged around an alleged “rise of lonely single men” and what it means for society and future generations. Some have suggested that male singleness is a social problem partly caused by women’s supposed reluctance to “settle” in heterosexual partnerships.
For women, singlehood has largely been rebranded as a time for self-love and personal growth. The “single positivity” movement has removed much of the stigma around being a single woman (at least in one’s 20s). Women are allowed to embrace freedom and reclaim singlehood as a chosen identity.
My research on singlehood in Manchester found that single men had equally chosen to be single and were happily so. But they did not feel they could embrace this positivity. Instead, they remain polarised by harmful masculine ideals that misrepresent single men as either carefree bachelors or socially dysfunctional incels (involuntary celibates).
I interviewed ten men, aged 21-55, about their experiences of being single. Lamenting the lack of nuanced or positive portrayals, Simon, in his 40s, commented that single men are typically seen to be “having sex with half the town, or one rejection away from blowing up a school”.
From the playboy trope, characterised by Barney Stinson in How I Met Your Mother, to Theodore in the 2013 film Her, a divorcee who turns to AI for companionship, single men are represented in superficial terms. This can leave men feeling as though they must prove they are neither bachelor nor incel.
Bachelors and incels
Research on men and masculinity has long shown that young men are assumed to experience a period of sexual freedom before eventually “settling down”. Masculine ideals presume men commit to a monogamous relationship only once they have “sown their wild oats”.
On this basis, we might assume that young single men rarely face judgement for being single, and are instead celebrated for pursuing a liberated and carefree lifestyle.
However, in my research, men in their 20s spoke of the challenges they faced being single. Their singlehood was often assumed to be a result of “commitment-phobia” and a reluctance to settle down, rather than their lack of desire for an intimate relationship. In comparison, single women in their 20s did not face the same assumptions, with their singlehood rather understood as “a time to put themselves first” and enjoy freedom from being “tied down”.
Distancing himself from stereotypical representations of single men as “bachelors”, Harvey, in his mid-20s, explained:
You feel like you have to justify being single at times, and it’s because you have to differentiate that you’re not one of those stereotypes, you’re not one of “those guys” who mess girls around.
Several participants noted that masculinity and sexuality felt inescapably linked. Being in a sexual couple was understood as a key marker of masculinity. As a result, some young men worried that, if they were not visibly pursuing a relationship and not regarded as a “bachelor”, they would instead be questioned about their sexuality or desirability.
Stuart, in his early 50s, described how these pressures shaped his experiences in his 30s. He was content being single as it afforded him time to focus on his career and the ability to prioritise his friendships and hobbies. But Stuart’s friends questioned his sexuality and suggested he must be gay or asexual. This experience compelled him to participate in speed dating, not out of personal desire, but to demonstrate that he was “normal”.
Others preferred to remain single as a time to “find themselves” after experiencing difficult relationships, to accommodate caring responsibilities, or simply because they enjoyed their solitude. However, their reasoning was rarely accepted by peers, who failed to accept that their singlehood was by choice.
Pressures on women to couple up are often linked to the biological clock. But accounts in my research suggest that men, too, face age-related expectations.
The expectation for men to settle down in their 30s appears less tied to biology, and more to cultural norms that view coupledom and family life as markers of successful, responsible adulthood. According to my participants, settling down with a partner is seen as conducive to “growing up”.
Read more: Why being single might feel empowering as a woman in your 20s, but not your 30s
Sexuality and masculinity
While men were expected to display sexual interest, being perceived as too sexually active beyond a certain age was also stigmatised. Evan described how he enjoyed the experimentation of singlehood in his early 20s, but by his late 20s felt that remaining single was no longer acceptable. He felt he was increasingly viewed by peers as “sad” or “desperate”, revealing the narrow norms governing masculinity.
When mainstream culture offers few credible or positive narratives about single men’s lives, the search for recognition and belonging can be redirected elsewhere – sometimes with harmful consequences.
Simon, 41, described joining the online group “Men Going Their Own Way” (MGTOW) in search of community with other men who were single by choice. He quickly became concerned by the group’s misogynistic orientation and its links to the broader manosphere, where MGTOW can act as a gateway to incel communities. However, while Simon recognised the risks and disengaged, he worried that younger men seeking belonging might not.
It’s time we challenged reductive stereotype of singlehood and asked: why is being single treated as a social problem? We must create space for nuanced portrayals of single men beyond the bachelor or incel.
Alicia Denby does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.