pain6batch9
Chronic
- Aug 25, 2024
- 184
Catfished By My Ex
Originally written Sep 2023. (Not from this site.) Requested.
Today the messages in the chat disappeared. I knew for certain then, the person in a darkened room on the other side of the keyboard was indeed my ex-girlfriend. I typed the word catfish into the search box and as it happens, I'm not alone. So, with a little pain still in me, instead of deleting my profile, (which is what I would normally do, but can't this time) I thought I'd seek solace in the avenue best open to me. My writing. Using the little, un-flourished skill I have, let me paint you a picture as a cautionary tale. Because as we all know, the internet is a vast ocean full of krakens, ready to reach up, crushing ships and pulling un-suspecting sailors to their deaths.
My story begins five days ago. I decided, as lonely as I was, to reach out into this ocean and see after a long time single, if I couldn't pluck myself a nice golden fish of the kind you get in exotic markets. Looking around at all the internet has to offer, I decided on this site, because it seemed to have the kinds of communities I was interested in. Transport themes, writing, and of course the other things. Now, I should explain, I'm not big on social media. I never have been. One of my worst nightmares is becoming famous, being recognised. I enjoy a certain level of anonymity. When you eventually read my book, it will be published under a pseudonym. What reinforces this is the amount of times I've seen famous people say they wish they never were. Anyway, I digress here for importance because you must remember this fact later.
The first message came on the second day. (Three days ago.) Confused already? Well so was I, because honestly, I never get much traction in the chat box, so I'm always a little surprised when someone else sends the first message. And of course, you get all the usual feelings coming into your mind about who this person could be, what they want, how many people they've really killed, etc. And the person on the other end of the chat, she came across as very intelligent. She presented as a normal, well-educated, balanced individual. So, she couldn't possibly be anyone I knew. Now, this is the worst part and I'm not going to lay the whole conversation for you here, suffice to explain about me. I've been a lonely kind of guy recently. I'm a forty-year-old, telling you which should trigger the 'life starts at forty' charade. Please, I'd rather you didn't try to make this old geezer feel better about this. Besides, your wrong, life started for me at fourteen. Way back in 1997, and there was much going on that year. The other thing you should know about me is that I have OCD, as anyone would know about the condition, the current dating trends of catfishing people and ghosting them are two of the worst things you can do. Especially for those with uncontrollable thoughts and suicidal ideation. I go on.
Things got heated. Initiated by this other party indeed, although I tried to control the conversation to some extent, I won't say I wasn't delighted by the idea of a new person in my life having fun with me in a closed environment. I was a little dumbstruck. But also interested to see the degree I could take it too. You'll know what I mean in a second. So, I want you to imagine two people typing in separate rooms across the country. Nothing is happening at either location, other than the typing, people with dirty minds may leave the post now. There were two messages within the space of the erotic conversation we were having, that began to ring alarm bells, and the first one came here. She asked a certain question, the nature of which I won't replicate in its original form.
My reply, I gave as honestly as I could, stopped the conversation dead in its tracks and triggered something inside me I can only describe as an extreme feeling of sadness. I was this lonely guy talking to this beautiful girl (at least she was in my imagination) and it suddenly dawned on me, the ridiculousness of the situation. My immediate reaction was one of despair and horror. I wanted to end the conversation right there by throwing my laptop into a river. I, thinking clearly insofar as that moment had not completely destroyed my judgement, managed to regain a certain level to myself. I wondered for a second what to do. Explaining how stupid I felt just seemed to trigger her to encourage me back into the conversation which she did with the skill of soviet spy from the cold war. I have to hand it to her, to be frank. The second of these comments came soon after. She wrote something that engaged my memory about how she didn't think I had the capacity to write what I was writing now. Indicating, in a box tucked away in my sub-consciousness that there had been some past association. I filed it away in the compartment in my head marked 'to do'. I won't be specific in the exact wording here dear reader, your indefatigable imagination might be doing the work for me.
Fast forward, the following day. After the weird night I had going to sleep alone, again, no message was there in the chat, so I assumed the person was working and laid combat at the feet of my OCD all day trying not to message her and it was I can tell you, an indescribable torture the likes of, without this affliction, you may never understand.
At some point on the following day, I get one message saying she was busy, etc, and of course I send three in return. Don't worry, I'll be here. Nothing yesterday. At all.
Today I woke up with the information I needed. I'm disappointed with myself for not being able to piece it together sooner, but going over the episode in my head again and again and again, I was able to understand what had happened. So, I woke up and chose violence as the kids say. Or rather I was woken up by the mobile ringing. They had called to say they were sending a man out to fix the intercom system in my building. While I'll stumbled around in the afternoon light, looking for my house front door keys, it struck me, I had been duped.
After I came off the phone, I sent the message. I figured it out, I said. I'm so stupid. This I sent and collapsed back onto my bed in a fit of profound depression. Because if I had got it wrong, I may have destroyed the embers of what could have become a glowing fire. I did reason, after some more time that if a person was a stranger, they would at least have asked for an explanation for the message, but alas, I found later, I was correct in my assertion and the phantom removed herself from my inbox with no further communications. Woe is me. My fear of being recognised had come to be. Now I did not want to end this here, but I wanted to give you my quick thoughts about this experience and how I'll learn from it in the future. Maybe if she is reading this, (I doubt it, she may be too embarrassed) then she may pick up some tips on how to do it better next time. I have considered this eventuality but if we lived our lives without a little courage, we would find ourselves in a very dark place indeed.
I found some separate items suspicious about the ordeal, which I will share with you good people here, if only they serve to give you some signifiers as to what to look for in your own battles with krakens of this internet ocean. The first was the date that the profile was created, and although it didn't stand out to me at first, when I checked her profile on that first day, later I checked and noticed the coincidence, marking it up on the wall as just that. But, tallied with the two messages and that fact she didn't continue with the encounter past that day, and the fact that the whole situation was too good to be true, led me to my conclusion that I had been involved in a horrible charade. I should also point out here, with the weight of the ocean above me, the name she gave me, was the name of a child we had together once, that died at birth.
It's a punch in the gut, it really is. Or a kick in the balls. Neither assault would be more painful than having the heart ripped out by the old other half. Because I was trying to move on. I haven't actually spoken to her in some time. I won't tell you what happened there, only that we are better off, both of us, in separate cities.
Should I have detected these flags earlier? Most probably yes. I'm a reasonably intelligent fellow, but her creation was nearly impeccable to the point where she was suspiciously good at coaxing my mind into the drama. It beholds me now to assume that, at times in my life when similar events have previously occurred and I have been ghosted after, events with no explanation, could this have been her? Masquerading as my next true love, to gain my confidence, my attention. My darkest desires? But, in all this, I'm not angry. I've come to expect these sorts of things. I feel a bit stupid, even though I'm sure somebody will tell me I'm not the one in the wrong in this scenario. This may be true, but I hold no animosity towards her. I want her to be happy, just not around me. I don't want her to suffer, be in pain, be upset. I just need to be away. In a new life. Without the past there to cripple every action we take. I'll say this one last thing. I'm going to be happy, no matter what happens. I hope she is too, I really do. I should be angry that she did this with no real explanation of why. But I already know. I require nothing more from her. That's how I know she won't mind this.
I'll take one further point here, then I'll leave you my friends. Catfishing is a horrible thing to do whatever the reason you are doing it. Especially in the way it was done here. It is painful and degrading and makes you feel a hundred years old. And, especially to people with OCD who can become attached to things and people quickly. To have them ripped away from you quickly or discover that it was never there in the first place is the complete, ungraded height of depravity in the most uncommon form. Certainly, it makes it worse that some of the people who do this have their own mental health battles and know exactly how it feels to be played with and used. These people from our histories may have grudges against us, or we may have done them wrong on some level, I wish I could atone for everything I've done. But alas, the chance at redemption could very well be behind me. As could the ability to stop writing. I wanted to get this published before midnight on September 25th. Unfortunately, I was too late.
This is my story and I can assure you, every word of it is true. Thank you for clicking on this post and reading it, you had many posts to choose from, you clicked on this one and for that, I appreciate you.
Minor editorial changes. I didn't know whether to mark this as NSFW, hopefully won't make a difference.
Originally written Sep 2023. (Not from this site.) Requested.
Today the messages in the chat disappeared. I knew for certain then, the person in a darkened room on the other side of the keyboard was indeed my ex-girlfriend. I typed the word catfish into the search box and as it happens, I'm not alone. So, with a little pain still in me, instead of deleting my profile, (which is what I would normally do, but can't this time) I thought I'd seek solace in the avenue best open to me. My writing. Using the little, un-flourished skill I have, let me paint you a picture as a cautionary tale. Because as we all know, the internet is a vast ocean full of krakens, ready to reach up, crushing ships and pulling un-suspecting sailors to their deaths.
My story begins five days ago. I decided, as lonely as I was, to reach out into this ocean and see after a long time single, if I couldn't pluck myself a nice golden fish of the kind you get in exotic markets. Looking around at all the internet has to offer, I decided on this site, because it seemed to have the kinds of communities I was interested in. Transport themes, writing, and of course the other things. Now, I should explain, I'm not big on social media. I never have been. One of my worst nightmares is becoming famous, being recognised. I enjoy a certain level of anonymity. When you eventually read my book, it will be published under a pseudonym. What reinforces this is the amount of times I've seen famous people say they wish they never were. Anyway, I digress here for importance because you must remember this fact later.
The first message came on the second day. (Three days ago.) Confused already? Well so was I, because honestly, I never get much traction in the chat box, so I'm always a little surprised when someone else sends the first message. And of course, you get all the usual feelings coming into your mind about who this person could be, what they want, how many people they've really killed, etc. And the person on the other end of the chat, she came across as very intelligent. She presented as a normal, well-educated, balanced individual. So, she couldn't possibly be anyone I knew. Now, this is the worst part and I'm not going to lay the whole conversation for you here, suffice to explain about me. I've been a lonely kind of guy recently. I'm a forty-year-old, telling you which should trigger the 'life starts at forty' charade. Please, I'd rather you didn't try to make this old geezer feel better about this. Besides, your wrong, life started for me at fourteen. Way back in 1997, and there was much going on that year. The other thing you should know about me is that I have OCD, as anyone would know about the condition, the current dating trends of catfishing people and ghosting them are two of the worst things you can do. Especially for those with uncontrollable thoughts and suicidal ideation. I go on.
Things got heated. Initiated by this other party indeed, although I tried to control the conversation to some extent, I won't say I wasn't delighted by the idea of a new person in my life having fun with me in a closed environment. I was a little dumbstruck. But also interested to see the degree I could take it too. You'll know what I mean in a second. So, I want you to imagine two people typing in separate rooms across the country. Nothing is happening at either location, other than the typing, people with dirty minds may leave the post now. There were two messages within the space of the erotic conversation we were having, that began to ring alarm bells, and the first one came here. She asked a certain question, the nature of which I won't replicate in its original form.
My reply, I gave as honestly as I could, stopped the conversation dead in its tracks and triggered something inside me I can only describe as an extreme feeling of sadness. I was this lonely guy talking to this beautiful girl (at least she was in my imagination) and it suddenly dawned on me, the ridiculousness of the situation. My immediate reaction was one of despair and horror. I wanted to end the conversation right there by throwing my laptop into a river. I, thinking clearly insofar as that moment had not completely destroyed my judgement, managed to regain a certain level to myself. I wondered for a second what to do. Explaining how stupid I felt just seemed to trigger her to encourage me back into the conversation which she did with the skill of soviet spy from the cold war. I have to hand it to her, to be frank. The second of these comments came soon after. She wrote something that engaged my memory about how she didn't think I had the capacity to write what I was writing now. Indicating, in a box tucked away in my sub-consciousness that there had been some past association. I filed it away in the compartment in my head marked 'to do'. I won't be specific in the exact wording here dear reader, your indefatigable imagination might be doing the work for me.
Fast forward, the following day. After the weird night I had going to sleep alone, again, no message was there in the chat, so I assumed the person was working and laid combat at the feet of my OCD all day trying not to message her and it was I can tell you, an indescribable torture the likes of, without this affliction, you may never understand.
At some point on the following day, I get one message saying she was busy, etc, and of course I send three in return. Don't worry, I'll be here. Nothing yesterday. At all.
Today I woke up with the information I needed. I'm disappointed with myself for not being able to piece it together sooner, but going over the episode in my head again and again and again, I was able to understand what had happened. So, I woke up and chose violence as the kids say. Or rather I was woken up by the mobile ringing. They had called to say they were sending a man out to fix the intercom system in my building. While I'll stumbled around in the afternoon light, looking for my house front door keys, it struck me, I had been duped.
After I came off the phone, I sent the message. I figured it out, I said. I'm so stupid. This I sent and collapsed back onto my bed in a fit of profound depression. Because if I had got it wrong, I may have destroyed the embers of what could have become a glowing fire. I did reason, after some more time that if a person was a stranger, they would at least have asked for an explanation for the message, but alas, I found later, I was correct in my assertion and the phantom removed herself from my inbox with no further communications. Woe is me. My fear of being recognised had come to be. Now I did not want to end this here, but I wanted to give you my quick thoughts about this experience and how I'll learn from it in the future. Maybe if she is reading this, (I doubt it, she may be too embarrassed) then she may pick up some tips on how to do it better next time. I have considered this eventuality but if we lived our lives without a little courage, we would find ourselves in a very dark place indeed.
I found some separate items suspicious about the ordeal, which I will share with you good people here, if only they serve to give you some signifiers as to what to look for in your own battles with krakens of this internet ocean. The first was the date that the profile was created, and although it didn't stand out to me at first, when I checked her profile on that first day, later I checked and noticed the coincidence, marking it up on the wall as just that. But, tallied with the two messages and that fact she didn't continue with the encounter past that day, and the fact that the whole situation was too good to be true, led me to my conclusion that I had been involved in a horrible charade. I should also point out here, with the weight of the ocean above me, the name she gave me, was the name of a child we had together once, that died at birth.
It's a punch in the gut, it really is. Or a kick in the balls. Neither assault would be more painful than having the heart ripped out by the old other half. Because I was trying to move on. I haven't actually spoken to her in some time. I won't tell you what happened there, only that we are better off, both of us, in separate cities.
Should I have detected these flags earlier? Most probably yes. I'm a reasonably intelligent fellow, but her creation was nearly impeccable to the point where she was suspiciously good at coaxing my mind into the drama. It beholds me now to assume that, at times in my life when similar events have previously occurred and I have been ghosted after, events with no explanation, could this have been her? Masquerading as my next true love, to gain my confidence, my attention. My darkest desires? But, in all this, I'm not angry. I've come to expect these sorts of things. I feel a bit stupid, even though I'm sure somebody will tell me I'm not the one in the wrong in this scenario. This may be true, but I hold no animosity towards her. I want her to be happy, just not around me. I don't want her to suffer, be in pain, be upset. I just need to be away. In a new life. Without the past there to cripple every action we take. I'll say this one last thing. I'm going to be happy, no matter what happens. I hope she is too, I really do. I should be angry that she did this with no real explanation of why. But I already know. I require nothing more from her. That's how I know she won't mind this.
I'll take one further point here, then I'll leave you my friends. Catfishing is a horrible thing to do whatever the reason you are doing it. Especially in the way it was done here. It is painful and degrading and makes you feel a hundred years old. And, especially to people with OCD who can become attached to things and people quickly. To have them ripped away from you quickly or discover that it was never there in the first place is the complete, ungraded height of depravity in the most uncommon form. Certainly, it makes it worse that some of the people who do this have their own mental health battles and know exactly how it feels to be played with and used. These people from our histories may have grudges against us, or we may have done them wrong on some level, I wish I could atone for everything I've done. But alas, the chance at redemption could very well be behind me. As could the ability to stop writing. I wanted to get this published before midnight on September 25th. Unfortunately, I was too late.
This is my story and I can assure you, every word of it is true. Thank you for clicking on this post and reading it, you had many posts to choose from, you clicked on this one and for that, I appreciate you.
Minor editorial changes. I didn't know whether to mark this as NSFW, hopefully won't make a difference.
