Nick lets readers know in chapter one that he’s a hypocrite. He tries to withhold judgment, but these folks right here… get a load of THEM! He casts such strong judgment on these characters not just because of how they treat Gatsby but what Gatsby represents, something that Nick strives to emulate—the idea that working for something you want pays off. Nick’s idealistic view of Gatsby mirrors Gatsby’s idealistic view of Daisy (and the work he’s done to “earn” her), which their being cousins also enhances. After everything goes down, Nick hates these city slickers so strongly because Gatsby’s failure to successfully reinvent himself is HIS failure to reinvent himself.
The back-home gossip of Nick’s broken engagement status… him gabbing with the girls the whole book… the failed attempt to pair him with a (queer foil) female character (masc-coded Jordan)… his inner monologue about entering his 30s, a decade of loneliness with “a thinning list of single men to know”… all signs.
Nick (albeit hesitantly) attends the party/orgy with Tom and company, does more than just “watch,” goes home with the “artsy” guy, wakes up to his hookup droning on about fairy tales (Beauty and the Beast—an unrealistic story of romantic, idealized love after being suppressed) and loneliness, and leaves feeling “cold”. Just as Gatsby’s foray into the pursuit of the American Dream doesn’t meet expectations, neither does Nick’s foray into the freer sexual opportunities of city life. If Gatsby could succeed, Nick could. Since Gatsby couldn’t, Nick realized he couldn’t.
The circumstances of one’s upbringing—the poverty of Gatsby, the Midwestern marriage ideals/expectations of Nick—hold them back. Turns out the city and its ideals weren’t as accepting and opportunity-rich as promised. Gatsby is a victim of circumstance and rejection, and Nick is, too. Gatsby’s dream is killed, and Gatsby (Nick’s dream guy) is killed.