The phrase incel gives the impression that the person in question has sex as their sole or central goal in interacting with certain groups of people, with the main or exclusive goal being the sensations accompanying short term fluctuations in several bodily systems. If they cannot be satisfied by beating the bishop, maybe the government or non-profit sector or whatever could make a tablet, capsule, implant, kit, or what have you which gives the person taking it a bell-ringer of an IV shot of Sexy Trihexy mixed with C-Jam and Captagon at the outset, then a very steep blast of morphine or purified human and raccoon endorphins if they are furries, then a steady flow of the M for several hours, all the while strumming the acetylcholine, serotonin, and all the other metabolic and endocrine levels followed by a short nap induced by nitrazepam, dipipanone + cyclizine up and propranolol delivered as a liquid or colloid up the arse from a vibrating buttplug with Bluetooth and IrDA remote controller and the buttplug can be repurposed later to dose other medications and C-Jam or Angel Dust, get samples for haemoccult and parasitic disease testing if needed in the future.
For full disclosure, I was inadvertently or involuntary celibate once for about five days after shooting up iodomorphine and tritiated levorphanol for an experiment because I would irradiate people whom I I was in very close proximity. I inquired if there were lead condoms and how long it would be before Astatine 223 could be used for these kind of things as it decays much faster . . . my attempt to have my nutsak self-photograph itself by sitting on a stool on a photographic plate for several hours did not produce significant results, and marked the only time I ever took a picture of my schlong -- what is up with these sports people taking pictures of their junk and sending them to people? At least then-Congressman Anthony Weiner (Democrat, New York IX. District) did it because that is how he signs his name . . .