Is it actually possible to talk about inceldom/blackpill in real life without dying of embarrassment?

Imagine: At a convivial dinner at a local food joint with some fellow and his family, I get bold and introduce incelosphere subjects. I was having a meal with Bob, his wife Mary, and their twin sons.

I go on to explain taboo blackpill theories and throw out phrases like "sexual marketplace," "ovulation cycle", "Sexual Revolution", "female erotic capital hoarding by Chads", etc, with a level of panache and flow rare for me and which filled me with a little pride. It's pleasurable having an audience. It's pleasurable holding forth! However as I developed my points and went deeper into the topic I began to lose my confident tone on noticing their patient faces changing to reflect some mixture of unease and pity. I felt it in my bones that they came to perceive my little weird lecture as the rationalizations -- the shameless self-justifications -- of a lonely weirdo as to why he was a lonely weirdo. Before getting into the social and political implications of sex robots I bailed and pretended I had nothing else to say on this topic I deeply regretted raising.

Bob's wife Mary pauses a few seconds and says "that's interesting. Huh, never thought of these things."

One of the twins snickers.

I know I've ruined the evening for myself so I make an excuse about having to get home early. As I exit the restaurant, Bob--genial, avuncular Bob-- follows me out to the sidewalk to have a little word with me. He leans in close and, with his characteristic gentleness and intimacy, says, "hey buddy, look, it's going to be alright, okay? Most people will find someone and I'm certain you will too. My friend Eric is very sociable and he could hook you up!" I say "thank you, thank you Bob. We'll talk about it later. I'll see you later." The feeling of humiliation is out of control.

I keep having this nightmare. I don't know any of these people.