Camgirl shower

2020.10.02 02:53 SchinaBaby #onlyfans #black #ebony #sexy #slimthick #thick #bigbooty #camgirl #damngina #dominican #curlyheaded #nudes #promo #naked #shower #fans

submitted by SchinaBaby to u/SchinaBaby [link] [comments]


2020.09.24 10:41 vvvvfl Shower camgirl

Be lonely, watch her, look her up and down, have a little fun. Leave. Every week you come back, tip, she says your name and thanks you. You get a little more used to her, you become a regular in the chat.
She's hot, you like her. You don't have any other female attention in your life. You tip more, it's normalized. You see other guys doing it, why shouldn't you? No one in the chat is saying how weird this is. Certainly a lot of other guys do this and just don't talk about it.
Eventually you do a private 1 on 1 with her. She tells you how mean her bf is to her and how lucky she is to have you and all the guys that tip her. You tip her more. You start checking in on her Monday, Wednesday, Friday.
Your income can't keep up, she always tells you how she's in dire financial straits and so stressed. Her boyfriend cheats on her all the time. You tip her more, you hope she can get out of the situation she's in.
She tells you she's trying, you tip enough that she gives you her number. You start texting her while you're at work, thinking about her. She slips you a few naughty pictures here and there, it almost feels like a real relationship. She's even sent you a few regular clothes shots. Two nights a week after work you're doing a private 1 on 1 cam show with her. It's not even sexually anymore, she's just telling you all about her life.
You start falling behind on your mortgage. You refinance and take out a second mortgage to keep tipping her. Eventually, you forget to pay the water bill, but that's okay. You start going to work a little earlier to take showers in the office. No one notices. Things at work aren't going well. You start staying later but you're texting her telling this. She's telling you how she's having a lot of trouble, too, and just needs a little bit more money to get by. You tip her more. This continues for months.
You start to fall behind on your mortgage but you feel guilty, she keeps telling you she just needs a little bit more money. Whenever you stop tipping her? She sends you selfies. Sometimes you see bruises, you ask her about it. She says it's from camming, but you think you know better. You ask her how much it'd be to leave? She says how much. It's a lot. You think about it, you take a loan out of your 401k, you give it to her. You tell her to leave.
You think it's over. She's not on for a few days, then a week, then two weeks. Just when you think she's escaped, she's camming again. You can't afford it anymore, the bank forecloses on you, you lose your house. You get a gym membership and start living in your car. She keeps texting you, asking where you've been. Telling you how much she's missing you. You say you lost internet, but you promise her you'll be back. She leaves you hearts and kisses and tells you how much she misses you.
You have to find a place for WiFi. The cam site is blocked at the library and McDonalds. You finally find a way to steal from someone's unsecured WiFi network. You finally get back on, and start tipping her. Now that you don't own a house, well, it's not a money issue anymore. You try to keep your car nice, but it's hard to watch her on your laptop and tip her like you used to.
You need to make more money, you can see how hard she's struggling. One of your coworkers tells you about some dark web site. You look it up. It sells a lot of illegal stuff. You buy some, getting it delivered to the neighbor's house. Your coworker gives you an intro, you start reselling. You have some cash flow now, but you can't deposit it at a bank, she has a PO box. You start mailing her cash with your screenname.
You start falling behind at work, you start using for a little edge. It starts out just on Mondays, but then you're using a bit more, and a bit more, and a bit more. It's not long until the only thing getting you through the week is doing drugs, watching her stream and slinging dope. You start buying burner phones with data and you use the mobile data on the phones to watch her streams.
That's how it all went down, really. You didn't know it but one of your buyers was undercover and they traced your burner. The subpoenaed the website, got your credit card number, and found the unsecured WiFi network you were using.
You're in jail now, trying to get released on bail. You give your friend this number, 8675309, and tell him just to text her that you're in jail and that you're really sorry. Your friend, trying to be understanding, tells you he will do it.
You find out months later that he started talking to her, she told him her situation and everything you did for her. A few years later and your friend is in jail with you, too. At least you're not alone now.
Camgirls. Not even once.
EDIT: by u/Szjunk
submitted by vvvvfl to copypasta [link] [comments]


2020.08.05 20:18 6Augdacket Camgirl shower

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https://preview.redd.it/w9jtw1ugs8f51.jpg?width=259&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=6ab381f2cc086d1ee5fa24c0b69b49072d6b06bc
submitted by 6Augdacket to u/6Augdacket [link] [comments]


2020.07.28 14:12 throwitallaway8787 My story of progressively worsening porn addiction, prison, and how I am still struggling every day. If you have started watching extreme porn, especially "younger" stuff like loli etc, please read this - it could save your life. Possible trigger warning.

I walked out of prison more than three years ago, and have really turned my life around. I have a wonderful girlfriend, a new house, and a great job...but I still struggle daily with porn, and in the past few months things have gotten really bad. This addiction does not simply go away. I posted this a few days ago in several other subs because I myself need serious help and didn't know where to turn, but I'm posting it here mostly because I think reading my story could actually help people. Also, it is helpful for me to hear that people can relate to my story.
If you've starting watching porn that makes you think, "I shouldn't be watching this", then you need to read this. You will continue to seek out more and more extreme porn, and could eventually find yourself in jail. Your entire life can turn upside-down in a millisecond, but right now you have the chance to turn it around.
I relapsed yesterday. This is day one for me of being porn free. Write it in stone.
-------
I'm really struggling right now, and have been for the majority of my life. If I keep heading down the path I am currently on, I know I will once again find myself in a prison cell, thinking about how amazing my life had been, and wishing I had gotten help before it was too late. I have already gazed once over the smouldering ruins of a life I had worked hard for, only to lose everything in one defining moment. I've risen from the ashes once; I don't think I can do it again.
As a first step, I just need to put the full truth of my behavior out there. I have never told anyone half the stuff I'm about to write here, not even therapists. I really just need to type it out, all of it; I need to see it. I'm not looking for a diagnosis from anyone, but maybe just some thoughts from those who can relate to what I've been going through my entire life. There are crimes mentioned here, but I have already been convicted and served time for every one of them, and I am not currently engaging in any illegal activity.
I am currently in no danger of harming myself or anyone else, unless you count consistently violating the trust of all the people I love. This will eventually lead to me ruining the life I've worked so hard for, as well as destroying everyone I love. This issue, in various forms, has been going on for almost twenty years - all of my teen years and adult life. I don't know what it's like not to be handicapped by this. Enough is enough.
1. Sexuality in my childhood and early teen years.
I grew up financially privileged household with parents who both supported me, and I believe did they absolute best they could. In terms of their treatment of me, I don't ever recall them being anything but supportive in every possible way. As an only child of well-off parents, I was spoiled, and to my memory I really never had to earn the things I wanted. I think that my parents felt guilty for reasons mentioned below, and buying me stuff was seemingly an easy way to make me happy, especially since they both worked full time. A series of full-time babysitters helped take care of me early on. To my memory they were all great.
My parents were constantly yelling at each other. Never any physical abuse, but the yelling never stopped between them. At best guess it was all financial stuff due to my dad buying any car or motorhome or boat or house he liked. I counted once that they split up at least ten times before I was a teenager, and I lived in over twelve different houses (in the same area) before I turned 18. I had normal childhood friends, but I ended up spending a lot of time alone in my room with the door closed; it was a safe space. I was a very fearful and timid child, and never took chances to do anything that made me uncomfortable. This lack of confidence was strong into my late teens, and was still present until my mid-twenties. I was nervous and anxious all the time, and my parents did have me in therapy various times for depression. It might be worth noting that I regularly wet the bed until probably age 8 or 9. I don't know how much a normal person remembers of their childhood, but I think I remember a lot less than average. I have no reason to think I've repressed any abuse.
I was always extremely well behaved, and never once had to be disciplined in school. I was quite literally never "in trouble". Growing up, I remember adults around me would constantly remark I acted and talked like an adult. The way other kids acted out was very strange to me. I started reading books by myself at a very young age. I was nice, fairly quiet, and unassuming. I guess the best way to describe me would've been "stoic".
I was fascinated with sex a very early age, and my parents gave me "the talk" sometime in elementary school because teachers had noticed my sexual behavior. I have no reason to believe I was ever abused by anyone during this time. Around age 11 I found a page of Hustler magazine underneath a sink in a local grocery store. I had never seen anything like that before, and can still remember exactly what the page looked like - full penetration, cum on faces, anal. Like I said I don't remember much at all from when I was young, but I remember this; it felt like something snapped in my brain.
At best guess, around the age of 13 or 14 I started watching several hours of hardcore internet pornography every night - binge sessions that would keep me up until the early hours of the morning. At the time I didn't think this was abnormal.
I often forget just how terrified I was of girls at this state in my life, because I am now very confident with women. But from puberty and into my early twenties I was painfully inept with girls. If a pretty girl talked to me my face would turn BEET red and I'd start noticeably sweating. With the few girls I felt comfortable with, I was a friend zone extraordinaire. Just like most male teenagers, I was extremely horny, and lusted after every single cute girl, but I never did anything with any of them...not even close until late high school, not even a kiss. Everyone I knew was having sex at 13 and 14 years old, and I felt like a total loser in this regard. Asking a girl out was simply impossible, let alone knowing what to do if they wanted to have sex. This was a constant source of crushing stress, and porn was a temporarily band-aid for the pain. I would like to know if this might be part of the reason I find the jailbait and ageplay stuff so exciting.
I did have one girlfriend for almost two years from age 18 to 20, but I had serious issues getting it up when we had sex. I think my brain was so used to the constant stream of porn every night that real girls were now just boring, intimidating, and a lot of work. She cheated on me, but I stayed with her because she was hot and she told me she loved me. Then we both went to college near each other, but she broke up with me like a month into the first semester via text. I was crushed and didn't get into another relationship until I was 25. Before my mid-twenties my level of confidence with girls was simply abysmal.
To the best of my knowledge, my movement outside normal pornography started during my late teens/early 20s with hentai, then into paying camgirls, then to making posts on Craigslist in all the personal sections, but mostly m4m because the people were real and looking. At some point later on I started looking at loli hentai, which I've recently learned actually appears to be illegal in the USA. This seems like a defining moment because prior to this I had no urge to seek out anything "young". The girls looked young in hentai, and it seemed at some point to just slowly progress to drawings which were meant to actually resemble children. It was a very long, slow, and imperceptible shift from regular porn to extreme, but to me, looking back, the path is very distinct.
I consider myself straight, and not even bisexual. But I also talked to hundreds of men during this period of time by way of the Craigslist personals section (probably age 21 at this point). Most I just talked to, and never intended to meet. I ended up giving blowjobs to two of them in cars, and I fucking hated it each time. I compulsively created and responded to these posts on Craigslist. I recently deleted that email account - there were literally thousands of those Craigslist emails.
2. Worsening compulsive porn use in my early twenties.
At this point I started venturing more and more into "deviant" porn. After a huge binge session I would finish and just sit there numb, wondering why I was continuously doing this, even if it was just regular porn. Shame and guilt hit me like a truck after every session, but when I would wake up the next day I seemingly forgot about everything, and just would go on with my normal life. Nobody realized I had any porn issues whatsoever, and from the outside I appeared as a normal dude, and really I didn't think I had issues. Every night was the same, and every night I ended up going to bed hating myself, but would be just blissfully ignorant come the next day.
It was like some Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde shit where I would just transform into some slimy reptile at night, who had full control of me until he finished a smut binge session. And I'm always in the background, trying to get him to stop. I was "happy" at this point; I had tons of friends, and was liked by girls. Though at that time, a girl would have to literally throw herself on me to let me know she was interested. I was totally oblivious to any attraction toward me. A number of girl have told me in recent years that they had a huge crush on me, but I was just oblivious.
Also, I think I had this warped perception of sex because I had been exposed to thousands of hours of hardcore porn. I thought my dick was tiny and that I'd get laughed at. Also, no one had ever property taught me to care for my uncircumcised penis, and therefore I had phimosis at this point (unretractable foreskin). Sex with my one long term girlfriend was painful for me because of this, and it was just so much easier to jack off than deal with all this humiliation.
3. Things get bad.
Around 2009 Chatroulette and Omegle came out, which was a turning point. I found myself calling in sick to work to browse Omegle all day and night. Like eight or ten hours worth, which is sometimes what it took to find a girl willing to help you finish. There were girls who were definitely younger than 18, but I was so desperate for any sexual attention that I somehow convinced myself that talking to these girls was OK. "If they don't say they're under 18 then it's ok, right??" I didn't have a preference for anyone younger, but if some girl was willing to watch me, apparently I didn't really care what their age was. At the end of all these sessions I would think, "uh, what the fuck are you doing dude", followed by the normal torrent of shame.
The rational me is always there, literally begging myself to stop. I consistently participate in things I am ashamed of, all the while telling myself that what I'm doing is wrong and hoping that I can somehow stop myself. I feel like I'm down a dark well, screaming up at the guy who is in charge, but all he wants to is consume the dirtiest and kinkiest smut he can find; only after that will he let me climb out.
Which brings us to when I started looking at non-nude jailbait photos around the age of 23. I'm not sure when I discovered the "Newstar" and "Tinymodel" photo sets, but to that reptile dude in my head they were extremely exciting.
Historically, I have never had any intense sexual attraction to girls younger than me, and I have always sought out girls within my age range. But being honest, part of me loved looking at these pictures of young scantily clad girls. Vanilla porn was now just uninteresting, and didn't provide me the same excitement, and this jailbait stuff was literally like I had found a new drug. I loved it and I fucking hated it. I never walked around in public and saw young girls and thought "wow I want to have sex with her". It was all photo and video based. It was like the girls I was looking at online weren't even real people to me.
It was not long before I started seeking out actual underage pornography. I have intentionally searched for and masturbated to actual child pornography. I have never actually said that sentence to anyone, despite the fact that I was eventually caught and charged with possession of this shit. I only got into this stuff for a few weeks, but I fucking hate that I participated in it at all. A lot of it was just videos of young girls solo on webcams, but there were a few times I sought out, watched, and masturbated to girls probably as young as ten participating in sex acts with older men, presumably their fathers. I cannot un-see these images; I want them ripped from my brain, and for these kids to have normal lives. I want their abusers jailed for life.
After these binge sessions the shame was so great I considered suicide. I would go on binge sessions on the dark web, looking at whatever I could for hours, only to be met with the worst shame you could possibly imagine when I was done. I would lay in bed for days afterwards, not eating or drinking. I remember the thing that finally woke me the fuck up was coming across a video where a young girl was on camera and started to cry and looked at someone off screen and said "dad, can't we just play with legos?". WHAT THE FUCK. I have tears in my eyes just remembering this. How could anyone actually do something like this to a child? This is a real person.
Right then and there I broke down completely and sobbed my fucking eyes out. I felt completely out of control with my own actions, and though the thought of abusing a child disgusts me to my core, by watching this stuff I was supporting it. I don't want to fuck kids or young teens, so why am I watching this stuff? A few years prior to this I would have never considered looking at this stuff...what the fuck was happening to me? How do you even get help for this stuff? If I tell someone I'm looking at this shit they'll just lock me up. Instead of talking to anyone about what was going on in my own head, I moved 2,000 miles away from my home town to a town I had never visited before. I didn't even have a job lined up. Literally I hit rock bottom, panicked that the only solution was to fundamentally change my life, looked up the "happiest and healthiest town in America", and moved to #1. I'm now in my mid-twenties.
4. Moving away from home. Peace. Happiness. Misery. Police.
Initially, moving away from home did "the trick". I could actually call myself truly "happy" for the first time I think really ever, and I was healthy to boot. The possibilities in my life seemed absolutely without limit. I started working out and doing a bunch of stuff outside (rode my bike everywhere cause I didn't have a car). It was a mountainous town and I got involved in climbing, skiing, and everything else I could. I felt "clear" for the first time in decades, and my porn use pretty stopped almost completely. But I never dealt with the actual problem (and still haven't), and everything came back eventually.
I met a girl in the apartment complex one street over who I quickly fell head over heels for. We started hooking up, but it became apparent we wanted different things (I wanted commitment, she didn't), and I drove myself crazy over the next two years pining after her. I'd ask her to make things official, she'd run off, I'd date someone else, she'd get upset and sleep with me and tell me she loved me, then she'd start sleeping with someone else. We were in the same friend group, and she refused to let anyone know that we were intimate with each other. Eventually I just ended up feeling like a shameful secret. We were basically best friends who spent all our time together, and sometimes slept together. The story is long, and I think I'm at fault as much for not giving her space as she is for constantly vacillating between "loving" me and sleeping with other guys. Nothing was ever malicious on her end, but I think we were both a bit fucked up in our own ways, and eventually I found myself in a serious emotional decline. I felt hopeless and worthless; previously I had been filled with a newfound massive confidence, but now found myself just wanting to feel wanted. Before all the shit hit the fan I found myself sometimes calling her dozens of times in a night because I knew she was over some guys house. I drove around town looking for her car in front of dudes houses. I literally felt like I had lost my mind. During these times I had the same voice in the back of my head saying "uhhh, dude? this is fucked up and you need to stop".
Since moving to this city I had landed a great job with a company where I was well-liked and respected. I had tons of friends, and was like a goddamn social butterfly; I was always somewhere doing something with good people. I was so happy in almost every aspect of my life. I had been such a "scared" person my entire life, the fact that I was able to move here and succeed filled me with a confidence I had never experienced. If I could have just gotten my head out of my ass and focused on how amazing my life actually had become, I'd probably still be in this town.
But instead I dug myself into an emotional grave because the girl I wanted didn't want me in the same way, and I couldn't cope, or something. I had several other really fantastic women I was seeing on and off, ones who really liked me for me and would have been up for actual relationships, but they weren't her. In a very short period of time, towards the end of the two years of living in this new town, I got right back into the type of porn I ran away from. I started posting on Craigslist in multiple sections with both fake ads and real ads. I went from 0 to 1,000 with everything in the span of probably six months. I gave two more guys blowjobs, and once again fucking hated every second of both experience. I got right back into non-nude jailbait, and towards the end found myself on the dark web once again seeking illegal porn.
During this time I had posted several ads on Craigslist looking for actual women to sleep with, or really even just talk to; I just wanted to feel wanted. I never posted any ads actually looking for an underage girl, but one responded claiming to be 13, and against ever fiber of my being, I responded. We talked over the span of about five days, email and then through text. She complained about how all the girls at school made fun of her and she didn't have many friends and just wanted someone to talk to about "stuff". I seemed "cool" and "interesting" and she said she liked talking to me. We eventually talked about sexual things (this in itself is a felony), but fortunately no pictures were exchanged. Eventually the topic of meeting each other was brought up. I vacillated between thinking this was some old greasy dude in his basement, and thinking that I was actually talking to a young girl. This doubt gave me permission in my own head to talk to this girl. But also my own head was telling me "DUDE WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, STOP THIS." The thought of sexually talking to a 13 year old girl excited me, and I need to be honest about this. The idea of meeting up excited me as well. "She" tried to get me to meet her, but I did not make any attempt, and never actually set anything up. The rational voice in my head won out, and I stopped talking to her.
Right before I stopped talking to her I found myself driving down a long beautiful mountain road after work and Norah Jones's "Come Away With Me" came on the radio. It was so beautiful. All of a sudden it really hit me how fucking stupid I was in talking to this girl, but also how long I had been struggling with doing things I didn't want to do for so long, and how I just didn't know how to escape it. I pulled over to the side of the road and bawled my fucking eyes out. "Is this how you're going to find happiness, dude?" I just wanted to find someone to love and to love me back, to be in a healthy relationship for the first time, to feel "clean" and wholesome and proud of my actions and decisions. I didn't want any of this stupid shit I was now suddenly back into.
A week or so after I stopped communicating with this girl, five detectives woke me up at 6am banging on the door of my apartment. I was not under arrest, but they took all of my electronics and informed me that I had actually been talking to them, not to a 13 year old girl. I thought the life I knew was over (I was right), so that night I held a kitchen knife up to my arm. I thought of my parents and just couldn't go through with it. I've never seriously thought about anything like this since that moment.
I didn't hear from the police for about four months. I told my parents what had happened the day after the cops showed up, and how I had been struggling with pornography addiction my entire life, and it felt good to be "honest" (really I didn't tell them half the shit I had issues with, but even halfway felt great). I got a lawyer and just sat around for a few months waiting to be arrested, sitting with the severe anxiety of not knowing if or when my life is going to be totally destroyed by committing a sex offense.
5. Arrest. Conviction. A promise to myself.
They arrested me outside my home in broad daylight, two plainclothes officers driving an old shitty Honda Civic. If they had just told me to come to the station I would have turned myself in, but they got all theatrical with it, and called me and made up some story about how they were from my old apartment complex and wanted to drop off my security deposit at my house. To this day whenever I hear a car door shut outside my house, or see an unknown car park nearby, or even dudes in public who look like undercover cops, I immediately get a severe rush of anxiety in the fear that I'm about to be arrested again. I'll go from totally relaxed to severe paranoid paralyzing anxiety in a microsecond, heart beating out of my damn chest.
My arrest should have been a small blip in the news, but because of some other factors it would take too long to go into, I ended up on the front page of every paper and TV station in the state. Sitting in jail, I didn't know this until the next day. I remember sitting in the bond hearing court room, just staring at the line of media photographers in the audience with all their telephoto lenses, capturing my face to put it in the papers underneath words like "predator", "pedophile", and "sex offender"....and they did. My lawyer came in and just said some shit like "yeah, sorry dude, you are everywhere". It's a very unique feeling knowing that from this point forward, absolutely everything in your life will be different. Every relationship you have will be affected. Nothing will ever be the same.
I vowed right then and there to never give up no matter how tough the road ahead gets. I'm going to live a life I can be proud of; this will be my success story. Maybe I'll write a book about it, but it would be pointless without an ending I could be proud of and honest about. I will be the guy who, against all odds, moves beyond a criminal sex offense, and has people who love and trust him, and who can eventually look back and say "look at what I achieved". I've made great strides toward this life, and have worked my ass off to get where I am now, but the the mental issues which led to my eventual imprisonment are still inside my head, and I finally need to admit that I need serious help.
6. Finding happiness while everything around me is on fire.
My parents bonded me out the next day. Though my boss tried his best to keep me, the widespread news of my arrest and the fact that we were one of the most respected (and well known) general contractors in the area meant I lost my job. I was friends with over a dozen guys I worked with, always drinking some beers behind the workshop after a day of hard work. I was there fore over a year, building relationships, and I had started going out to bars and going over the bosses houses for family dinners. Save for the three main guys, I never saw any of them again. Lots of friends stuck by me, but the town was ruined.
I fought the case for almost a year. What started out as my lawyer being confident that I would just get a few years probation turned into me pleading guilty to internet solicitation of a minor and possession of child pornography. I had I think like seven nude images of girls who were under 18 on my computer, and one video. My lawyer dropped the ball several times when communicating / meeting deadlines with the district attorney, and the situation became way worse than it should have been. Under my lawyers advisement I signed a plea deal which meant there was no question I would get a prison sentence between 2 and 8 years. I did commit crimes and it is my opinion that I did deserve punishment. I mean, from the outside, I can see how I looked like a run-of-the-mill child predator. However, spending a few years in prison is probably the least helpful thing for someone in my situation, in my opinion.
While I was home fighting my case I was filled with a sort of "I have nothing to lose" confidence, and started taking any girl who would accept out on dates. I thought my friends sister was cute, so I asked her out. It took a good number of tries, but she eventually agreed to let me take her to dinner. We had a really great time. After a couple dates I was honest about the legal situation I was in, as well as my mental struggles. She was a bit shocked of course, but she had known me for a long time. She stuck around, and we had the most beautiful summer together before I had to fly 2,000 miles away to serve an unknown amount of prison time. She, as well as my parents, sisters, and friends flew out with me to the sentencing hearing. My girlfriend and I told each other "I love you" for the first time the night before the hearing.
We're still together, and she's been by my side through everything the past five years. I've never met someone who was so easy to be around. How I could ever get so lucky, I will never know.
7. Prison. Gangs. Solitary confinement. Making the most of it.
I was sentenced to four years in a medium security state penitentiary. The gangs pretty much run the prisons in this state, and you'll get immediately extorted by the gang which coincides with your skin color if they find out you're a sex offender. I stayed under the radar for a few weeks, but some gangs save newspaper clippings with sex offenders photos, and I got found out. They threatened to kill me, so I told the guards I was in danger; they agreed. I spent a month and a half in solitary confinement for my own protection. This was "the hole", a cell with no window to the outside where they never turn the lights off). I was eventually transferred to a different facility which was much safer, though one sex offender was murdered during my stay there. Prison could be a book in itself, but most of it was just groundhog day. It would be best described as long periods of mind-numbing boredom interspersed with occasional moments of sheer fucking terror. I was extremely fortunate to talk to my girlfriend every single day on the phone, as well as very regularly my parents, relatives, and friends. I had a ridiculous number of visitors, despite being a 2,000 mile flight and hours long drive through the desert away from everyone I cared about.
I had started taking mindfulness meditation classes after the initial search warrant was served. This habit continued into prison, and most of my month and a half in the hole was spent meditating. Solitary confinement can be maddening; you could occasionally hear guys screaming or crying in other ~60 cells in the solitary cell block. But honestly I've never been more at peace than how I was during those 45 days. I remember my girlfriend told me over the phone that she had heard that my ex girlfriend (long term one from when I was ~19) was going around telling people the news that I was a child molester. At first I felt panicked, because this firestorm of people I went to high school with "finding out" about me was totally out of my control. But then I came to the realization that that's pretty much how life always is, even if you're not a convicted sex offender sitting in the hole because the Aryan Empire wants to kill you. You could just be a dude minding his business, and then bam, you get run over by a bus. I can't control what people think of me, or the things they say, and that's ok. But I should be able to control which thoughts I turn into actions, and meditation helped me greatly in this.
At this new facility I eventually petitioned the warden to allow me to start a weekly meditation group. He allowed it, and they gave me a quiet classroom behind the library to use for two hours every Wednesday night. It started out with pretty much just me alone, maybe one other person occasionally. Within a few months I had about a dozen regular members. Everyone from sex offenders, to men who had murdered their wives and didn't quite know why, to ex gang members. Twice we had meditation instructors come from the outside to teach for a day. We meditated and discussed how to find peace in a place as abrasive as prison. I taught these men that their thoughts do not need to dictate their actions, and that they have control over their own mind, not the other way around. Focus on the breath, observe your own thoughts coming in and observe them going out. At this point my mind felt healthier than ever had before; I could "see" the thoughts which entered my head and choose to either pursue them or just send them on their way. Through daily practice (I meditated every morning and night) I was becoming a master of my own mind, but now I seem to have lost it all. I can't even bring myself to sit on my mediation cushion; I feel like someone is physically preventing me from meditating. I based almost my entire practice around a fantastic book called "Turning the Mind into an Ally" by Sakyong Mipham. Right after I got out of prison I heard that there were recent multiple credible sexual assault allegations against him. This destroyed me a little bit. Is anyone actually righteous?
I called the prison a few months ago. The meditation group has more members than ever.
8. I shall be released (but with an ankle bracelet).
I was paroled at my first parole hearing. Overall I spent about twenty months in prison, out of a possible 48. This didn't just happen; I have never worked so hard at anything. I participated in every prison program I could. I worked 40+ hours a week as a maintenance technician at the facility, as this is my area of expertise. I was well known and liked by dozens of guards, probably partly because I never caused a single issue. I was in three bands, and after I played a live show for the entire ~1,000 inmate population the gangs left me alone because they liked hearing me play guitar (pretty much the only thing I've stuck with for the last 15 years). I volunteered to give a ten minute graduation speech to a couple hundred inmates in a certain program. At this time, public speaking was at the top of my list of fears. I took every single opportunity presented to me an capitalized on it. Not just because I wanted to be released, but because I felt compelled to. No more being scared. No more fucking around. I am ready to lead a life I can be proud of, and it starts now, not when I'm released from behind bars.
Thankfully I was allowed to parole to my home state. I moved in with my girlfriend (and her mom), and we started looking for places to rent together, finding one in about a month. My parole office was amazing, and when I was eventually released from parole, after about a year and a half, we shared a good number of beers together. I can't tell you quite how good it feels to cut a heavy cigarette-pack sized ankle bracelet off after wearing it for 18 months straight. This was almost a year and a half ago now.
It was finally done. I was no longer a number in the Department of Corrections. I was free, free to build a beautiful life with my beautiful girlfriend. And I never watched porn again. Fairy tale ending.
9. P.S. - Nothing has really changed.
I started looking at porn probably two days after I got home. I tried REALLY fucking hard not to, but it just happened like I was on autopilot. It started with just me giving myself the excuse I could jerk off to some scantily clad anime girls, then moved to ecchi ("I mean, whatever, it's just nipples dude"), and then to hentai. In my head I'm screaming at myself, "DUDE STOP, GO HAVE SEX WITH YOUR ACTUAL HORNY GIRLFRIEND", while I'm loading up Pornhub in the bathroom. I was not allowed to look at porn while on parole, but they did not actually monitor anything or ever actually check my devices. I was allowed a smart phone and essentially unrestricted internet access. I passed all my drug tests, passed my polygraphs, and presented no actual problems to the parole office, so I pretty much totally fell off their radar. I had to take state-sponsored sex offender therapy, but if I had admitted to looking at porn they would've just sent me back to prison because it was a parole violation. So much for getting help with your biggest problem.
I tried to stop, dozens of times. At most I could go about two weeks without looking at porn, which is pretty much a world record for me. But whenever I abstain for a long period, something will inevitably stress me out, and I'll dive back into the sexual compulsion. Soon, I got right back on Omegle, and found a new thing to search for: phone sex. In the past eighteen months I've probably have phone sex with at least three dozen women. In my mind, and I'm sure in the mind of my girlfriend, this is cheating, plain and simple. Again, what the fuck dude.
But I'm not thinking of this when we're together. I'm just being me, and enjoying her. There's no present thought in my mind going "hey I feel really guilty about having phone sex with girls right before you get home from work". I love her, and I love spending time with her, and none of the shameful shit I am involved in even enters my mind when we are together. Though occasionally during sex I'll get hit with a wave of shame and I'll lose my erection and can't get it back up. "I'm just really tired", I say. Ugh.
Probably 6 months ago I started looking non-nude jailbait photography again. It always happens the same - I tell myself, "ok you're horny so just jerk off for ten minutes to some vanilla stuff so you can think clearly and after that you're gonna get a bunch of shit done". Two hours later I've still got my hand on my dick, I'm all flushed and sweaty, and I'm looking at jailbait pictures while I'm screaming at myself inside my own head...
"Stop. Please stop. Dude you know you don't want to be doing this. Is this going to be the last time? If you need to finish just do it but make this the last time. You can still stop. Go take a cold shower and just stop. Please. You know this isn't what you want. Please stop".
I just burst into fucking tears typing that because I've gone through that loop in my own head literally tens of thousands of times. I just cannot stop myself. There is nothing I want more in this world than to stop all of this.
It just keeps happening, no matter how many strategies I use to stop, I always find an excuse.
"Just do it this once but then never again."
"Ok fine, jerk off to some legal jailbait stuff, but make it quick, no endless scrolling."
"Well you're a freak anyways, everyone thinks you're a pedo, so fuck it, prove em right. You know you can't stop so just embrace it and enjoy it. Let's find the kinkiest shit possible."
And when I DO abstain for a long period, when I eventually relapse it's just 1000x worse. I'll end up doing like an eight hour binge and missing an entire day of work.
And it's getting worse. I'll talk to girls and guys over the phone via Omegle, and I've started asking guys to roleplay a dad/daughter or brothelittle sister fantasy with me. I ask if they want to roleplay that we're dads and have "hot" stories to tell about our young daughters. I get turned on thinking about talking about something this kinky, but I end up hanging up every time within like a minute. Like literally I've never even gotten close to "finishing" on one of these calls. Probably done this like 15 times in the past 6 months. The other guy starts going into his fantasy story and it hits me how fucked up this is and I hang up. I don't want to fuck kids...this is not a thing that is on my mind, ever. I do not go to the beach and think "hell yeah look at all this ripe young ass". Almost all of my friends have young children and I've never once thought of doing anything with them. In fact I pretty much avoid children, because I now project what I think other people think of me onto myself.
When I ask these guys on Omegle to roleplay occaisonally one will ask if I'm "active", aka actually molesting a child, and it makes me want to throw up thinking someone would want to hear about actual abuse. When I read a news story about someone actually raping a kid my face curls up in disgust, which I feel like is pretty much the "normal" reaction. Weigh that against the fact that a couple times in prison I got horny and started writing a few sex stories involving young teens. I never finished any of these stories, and shredded and threw them out halfway through writing all of them. Again, what the fuck.
I'm just waiting for the FBI to show up at my house. Isn't asking guys on Omegle, "would you be into a fantasy where we roleplay as two dads telling hot stories about our daughters?" a huge red flag? But I always tell them, "this is 100% fantasy, and I do not want to hear about anything real. I do not want to receive pictures or participate in anything actually illegal." If they say they have real stories I leave the chat / hang up immediately. Even though I'm not doing anything illegal, whenever I hear a car door shut from a neighbor, my heart races and I have to get up from my desk to check if it's the cops.
I also sometimes ask the phone sex girls on Omegle to ageplay as a young teens for me, and pretty much all of them have been happy to. Like 15, 14, 13 years old, whatever they're comfortable with. Why do I want this? Why is there such a disconnect between what I find disgusting in real life and what I "want" to fantasize about? If I could pay someone my entire life savings to remove the part of my brain that harbors this desire to fantasize about the idea of sex with young girls, I wouldn't hesitate for a second. I do not and have not talked with anyone on Omegle or on the phone who says that they are actually under 18; at least prison taught me the lesson to never talk to an actual young person ever again. Maybe in some peoples opinions the ageplay thing is acceptable and nothing to be ashamed about, but I do not want it as a kink of mine. It brings me serious, crushing shame for days after I participate in it.
Shame really seems to be a constant theme of my sexuality throughout the years. Even after normal sex I feel a bit of shame. I've always had serious shame amount my body, especially my genitals, but even with just taking off my shirt. My parents were always open to talk about sex, and to my memory never did anything to instill shame in me when it came to sex. But stepping back it almost looks like the things that I find the most shameful are the things I'm most likely to seek out.
Post too long, last two chapters have been posted in a comment.
submitted by throwitallaway8787 to NoFap [link] [comments]


2020.07.25 15:07 pony666boy Camgirl shower

TIFU by waking my roommate up with porn on his bluetooth speaker
So there I was playing a few rounds of RE Resistance when that THICC Nemesis just set me OFF!
Anyways I had a few options: tablet, iphone, or my neglected laptop that I havent touched in a while.
I grabbed my studio monitor headphones and plugged in the ol' faptop. Excitement building I brought up an incognito browser to keep my deeds a secret and loaded up reddit gonewild, pornhub, and... chaturbate...
Gonewild was the appetizer and so I began roughing up the suspect a little. Eventually I moved over to the moving picture world and opened up about 10 different chaturbate pages.
I hit the little microphone to unmute the first cam page and nothing came out of my headset. Weird, either they dont have a mic or this piece of shit laptop must have finally gave in... I thought to myself as I set the volume to full. I switched between a few more pages unmuting and checking the volume, even switched the port I had my headphones plugged into just in case.
Then I got to a girl reaming out her dark star with a vibrating plastic phallus and I could hear her screaming... Screaming from across the hallway...
My heart rate skyrocketed as I realized what I had done. I closed down the browser and with fearful fingers checked the audio mixer on my laptop, right across the too of the window it said "XXXXXX's Bose whatever speaker."
I dashed out into the hallway while pulling my pants up just to hear my roommate groan "WHAT THE FUCK!" He had been sleeping and woke to the sounds of a menagerie of women blasting their orifices for strangers on the internet.
I mumbled apologies and took a cold shower.
Still haven't left my room since.
TL;DR
-got horny -watched a bunch of camgirls not realizing why my audio didnt work -hear screams from roommates room -oops it was playing there the whole time -gonna self isolate now
submitted by pony666boy to tifu [link] [comments]


2020.07.23 03:29 Ayunx Camgirl shower

Dear reader- I apologize in advance for what you're about to read. It's disgusting and gross. I find it very difficult and embarrassing to write this down and to share it online, but deep inside I just know I have to do this. Please don't read this if you're put off by violence and sexual themes. I'm hoping I can find some help by explaining my struggle without leaving anything out. Here's my story:
So I read the leaks. I knew everything about the game's story and I hated it. I still bought the game for some reason, probably so I won't sound biased, when I tell other people how much I disliked it. I rushed through as quickly as I could, while simoultaniously enjoying YouTubers that didn't enjoy playing the game as well.
I admit, I found the LOU2-memes rather entertaining. I'm not interested in politics, but I found the memes regarding SJWs and PC-culture pretty hilarious and even a bit liberating, because I understood where they were coming from.
There I was, finding myself in a community that posts funny memes and well thought out comments. I was glad I had at least found something entertaining, after spending so much time with this game that I hate.
The latest most popular memes were all about Abby - I always loved Joel and it broke my heart seeing him get tortured and murdered by this muscular woman. I was offended on a personal level and I found myself hating the sheer appearance of this character.
Again, I'm not interested in politics and I don't want to offend anyone, but I'm more of a traditional guy one might say. Males are physically stronger than females, and it's easier for them to gain muscle, while females have other great, non-male qualities. That's just how I grew up.
So, going with the latest trend, I had this idea of making a long, well researched post, about how unrealistic it is for a woman to look like her without the use of steroids, especially in the LOU-universe.
That's how everything started. I watched videos of my favorite YouTubers, who explained that it's impossible for women to look the way Abby does. I read long, well written posts on Facebook and Reddit and took notes while doing so. At some point during my research, I was confronted with images of other physically strong females. After seeing a picture of Zarya, the female bodybuilder from the game Overwatch, the words reverberated inside of my head: "Female bodybuilder... Female bodybuilder..." "But they all take steroids, right?" More research. I found buff women on instagram, buff female wrestlers, buff, real life female bodybuilders. "Steroids", I think. "Can't prove me otherwise". Yet the sheer amount of physically strong females astounded me. And here's the embarrassing part:
Don't ask me why, but I found myself falling down this rabbit hole of looking at buff females and ended up seeing this incredible amount of buff pornstars and camgirls. I was disgusted. I couldn't believe what I saw. "So many steroids", I thought. It was sad. All this drug abuse only to look more muscular, going against everything that is feminine. Why?
I remember how I shook my head in disbelief, when suddenly I realized I was aroused. I quickly closed my laptop, disgusted with myself.
What happened? My body betrayed me and my mind started racing. "Something about these 'beasts', these 'creatures'. Must have triggered something primal in me. How hard they worked to form their bodies. Sweat dripping from their skin. Muscle on top of muscle. Those diverse shapes on legs, arms and stomach. The visible movement of the muscle while lifting weights, hard as rock."
I tried to stop thinking about it, took a cold shower, but I just couldn't stop. "Muscles aren't feminine. And I'm definitely straight... right?" Images of Abbys face and arms appeared in my head. Something had changed and there was no going back: I was bored with the average female body. Saggy breasts hanging down, arms like noodles, jiggly bottoms. Bodies full of water, bodies full of plastic. Plastic. Water. Plastic. Water. They're trying to seduce me, winking, shaking their hips. They're so damn full of themselves, but what the hell are they so proud of? They're weak. Boring. I'm unimpressed. And confused.
Abby. Why was I so obsessed about her and the way she looked? I looked up pictures of her every day, laughed, posted a meme, upvoted others.
"Steroids...", I said to myself.
This is where the dreams started.
One night I had this dream about seeing myself sitting in front of my computer. I was about to post a thought-provoking comment, when all of a sudden Abby busted through the door and grabbed me by the neck. I saw her lift me up with one arm, smashing my head into the keyboard again and again and again. The keyboard turned into a red, gluey mass consisting of brain, eyes, teeth and keys. On the screen I read the words: "Why is Neil Druckmann Cuckman so obsessed with muscular fverbriobtblC KJFEV NGJBKS NBOIFB GBDGF RGBR RFTBTREW"
I woke up in a cold sweat. Trembling, heart pounding and my penis erect.
That day I didn't post anything on my favorite Subreddit and instead went for a walk, thinking about what all of this means. "Am I not a true man? Strong, straight, funny, smart. I like women. I like feminine women. I like feminine traits in women. I don't have a problem with strong female characters, but they shouldn't be physically strong, but emotionally! Or when they're physically strong, they should at least not look like they are. They should look feminine!"
I thought I had it. I thought I could be myself again, after I had collected my thoughts. I was into feminine women. Abby's muscular appearance was a bad way of portraying a traditionally strong woman. It was sexist and offensive, as others had explained to me in great detail.
That night, I had no problems falling asleep. And yet I found myself having the most bizarre, scariest nightmare of my entire life...
I stood in an empty room, surrounded by naked males. Mostly around my age. Average bodies: skinny, chubby, fat. Some with glasses, some with bearded necks, some with red hats. We were standing in a circle, facing each other and pleasuring ourselves. It was surreal. Noises of moaning and laughing filled the air. One guy tried to focus and talk: "SJWs... ruined... my favorite... ungh... videogame". Another shouted: "LIBERAL FASCISM!", and another: "Abby is trans!"
At first I nodded in agreement and smiled, but the more they talked, the more uncomfortable I felt. "Forced to play as Abby after she kills our beloved protagonist...", one guy said. "Didn't feel sorry about her stupid dad at all... Such bad writing... Bad writing... Ungh... Disrespectful..."
"Stop! Stop saying her name!", I screamed, not even knowing why. They laughed.
One skinny guy started flexing one arm, showing muscles where there were none. "Look guys! I'm Abby! I'm a strong female character and I hate males!" He crossed his eyes and made monkey noises. They laughed hysterically.
They stopped, when Abby busted through the door, just like she did in my dream before.
Abby was buff. Buffer than she ever was. And she was angry. It felt like an earthquake, when she started running after the guys. Panic ensued. One guy whistled so loudly, it hurt my ears. "IT'S CUCKMAN'S BITCH! GAMERS! GRAB YOUR WEAPONS!", one guy shouted in a shrill voice. Most of them tried to run away, slipping on the wet floor, stumbling upon their lowered pants and smashing their heads on the ground.
Some of them picked up keyboards and tried hitting her pathetically. It was no use. She grabbed them by their limbs, smashing their bodies into the wall and throwing them into the air as if they were toys, bashing their heads in and tearing their limbs right off. Some cried. Some screamed. "WHITE MALE GENOCIDE! WHITE MALE GENOCIDE!" Limbs, keys and genitals flew through the air. The floor and walls were red with blood. It was a massacre.
I just stood there, like a deer in the headlights. After she had killed every single one of them, she slowly walked towards me, breathing heavily, covered in blood. Abby, this fictional amalgamate, this hated monster, that had triggered so many. I stared at her big videogame arms and carefully asked "How... how did you get-" She interrupted me:
"Every time they say my name: One push-up."
"B-but... What about steroids?."
She reached behind her back and picked up a golf club. She carefully positioned it between my eyes.
"No steroids."
When I woke up my whole body was shaking and I was fully erect. I'm ashamed to admit, I started crying. I felt like my whole identity, everything I believed in, was in danger.
This time I didn't go for a walk. I felt like I had to finally finish what I started. "Be a man!", I said to myself.
I continued writing my post, googling, researching, trying not to get distracted. I thought maybe that way, the dreams would stop.
I finished. All I had to do, was click the "post"-button. I hesitated. "Post..." I felt sick. Something was different this time. Usually I look forward to the upvotes, the comments, the karma, people complimenting my work and humor.
"Screw it." I thought. "Do it." The moment I tried to click the mouse, an image of Abby flexing popped up in my head. Aroused, confused and angry, I gagged. Then I started vomiting uncontrollably. I looked at my screen and keyboard, covered in digested burgers and soft drinks. This wasn't a dream. This was real. My body and my mind were fighting.
I need help. I feel like I can't be myself anymore. I can't even go to my favorite Subreddit, because they won't stop talking about Abby. Abby here, Abby there. And in my mind she gets stronger and stronger, while I get harder and harder, until we both explode.
So here I am, wondering what I'm supposed to do. Who am I? Why am I so obsessed with this fictional character? What does it mean, if I find her attractive? Does it mean I'm gay? Not a real man? What does it mean, to be a man? How can I be a man, when I'm physically weaker than many women out there? Will others still respect me, if I tell them about how I feel about her?
Whatever the answers, I think for now I need to take a break from LOU2 and its memes. I might have to start take care of myself. Start working out. Then, once I'm as buff as Abby, I'll play the game again.
TLDR: Does liking Abby make me gay?
submitted by Ayunx to TheLastOfUs2 [link] [comments]


2020.07.22 21:23 PureTilla Thanks to LOU2 and Abby, I might have an identity crisis. I could use some advice.

Dear reader- I apologize in advance for what you're about to read. It's disgusting and gross. I find it very difficult and embarrassing to write this down and to share it online, but deep inside I just know I have to do this. Please don't read this if you're put off by violence and sexual themes. I'm hoping I can find some help by explaining my struggle without leaving anything out. Here's my story:
So I read the leaks. I knew everything about the game's story and I hated it. I still bought the game for some reason, probably so I won't sound biased, when I tell other people how much I disliked it. I rushed through as quickly as I could, while simoultaniously enjoying YouTubers that didn't enjoy playing the game as well.
I admit, I found the LOU2-memes rather entertaining. I'm not interested in politics, but I found the memes regarding SJWs and PC-culture pretty hilarious and even a bit liberating, because I understood where they were coming from.
There I was, finding myself in a community that posts funny memes and well thought out comments. I was glad I had at least found something entertaining, after spending so much time with this game that I hate.
The latest most popular memes were all about Abby - I always loved Joel and it broke my heart seeing him get tortured and murdered by this muscular woman. I was offended on a personal level and I found myself hating the sheer appearance of this character.
Again, I'm not interested in politics and I don't want to offend anyone, but I'm more of a traditional guy one might say. Males are physically stronger than females, and it's easier for them to gain muscle, while females have other great, non-male qualities. That's just how I grew up.
So, going with the latest trend, I had this idea of making a long, well researched post, about how unrealistic it is for a woman to look like her without the use of steroids, especially in the LOU-universe.
That's how everything started. I watched videos of my favorite YouTubers, who explained that it's impossible for women to look the way Abby does. I read long, well written posts on Facebook and Reddit and took notes while doing so. At some point during my research, I was confronted with images of other physically strong females. After seeing a picture of Zarya, the female bodybuilder from the game Overwatch, the words reverberated inside of my head: "Female bodybuilder... Female bodybuilder..." "But they all take steroids, right?" More research. I found buff women on instagram, buff female wrestlers, buff, real life female bodybuilders. "Steroids", I think. "Can't prove me otherwise". Yet the sheer amount of physically strong females astounded me. And here's the embarrassing part:
Don't ask me why, but I found myself falling down this rabbit hole of looking at buff females and ended up seeing this incredible amount of buff pornstars and camgirls. I was disgusted. I couldn't believe what I saw. "So many steroids", I thought. It was sad. All this drug abuse only to look more muscular, going against everything that is feminine. Why?
I remember how I shook my head in disbelief, when suddenly I realized I was aroused. I quickly closed my laptop, disgusted with myself.
What happened? My body betrayed me and my mind started racing. "Something about these 'beasts', these 'creatures'. Must have triggered something primal in me. How hard they worked to form their bodies. Sweat dripping from their skin. Muscle on top of muscle. Those diverse shapes on legs, arms and stomach. The visible movement of the muscle while lifting weights, hard as rock."
I tried to stop thinking about it, took a cold shower, but I just couldn't stop. "Muscles aren't feminine. And I'm definitely straight... right?" Images of Abbys face and arms appeared in my head. Something had changed and there was no going back: I was bored with the average female body. Saggy breasts hanging down, arms like noodles, jiggly bottoms. Bodies full of water, bodies full of plastic. Plastic. Water. Plastic. Water. They're trying to seduce me, winking, shaking their hips. They're so damn full of themselves, but what the hell are they so proud of? They're weak. Boring. I'm unimpressed. And confused.
Abby. Why was I so obsessed about her and the way she looked? I looked up pictures of her every day, laughed, posted a meme, upvoted others.
"Steroids...", I said to myself.
This is where the dreams started.
One night I had this dream about seeing myself sitting in front of my computer. I was about to post a thought-provoking comment, when all of a sudden Abby busted through the door and grabbed me by the neck. I saw her lift me up with one arm, smashing my head into the keyboard again and again and again. The keyboard turned into a red, gluey mass consisting of brain, eyes, teeth and keys. On the screen I read the words: "Why is Neil Druckmann Cuckman so obsessed with muscular fverbriobtblC KJFEV NGJBKS NBOIFB GBDGF RGBR RFTBTREW"
I woke up in a cold sweat. Trembling, heart pounding and my penis erect.
That day I didn't post anything on my favorite Subreddit and instead went for a walk, thinking about what all of this means. "Am I not a true man? Strong, straight, funny, smart. I like women. I like feminine women. I like feminine traits in women. I don't have a problem with strong female characters, but they shouldn't be physically strong, but emotionally! Or when they're physically strong, they should at least not look like they are. They should look feminine!"
I thought I had it. I thought I could be myself again, after I had collected my thoughts. I was into feminine women. Abby's muscular appearance was a bad way of portraying a traditionally strong woman. It was sexist and offensive, as others had explained to me in great detail.
That night, I had no problems falling asleep. And yet I found myself having the most bizarre, scariest nightmare of my entire life...
I stood in an empty room, surrounded by naked males. Mostly around my age. Average bodies: skinny, chubby, fat. Some with glasses, some with bearded necks, some with red hats. We were standing in a circle, facing each other and pleasuring ourselves. It was surreal. Noises of moaning and laughing filled the air. One guy tried to focus and talk: "SJWs... ruined... my favorite... ungh... videogame". Another shouted: "LIBERAL FASCISM!", and another: "Abby is trans!"
At first I nodded in agreement and smiled, but the more they talked, the more uncomfortable I felt. "Forced to play as Abby after she kills our beloved protagonist...", one guy said. "Didn't feel sorry about her stupid dad at all... Such bad writing... Bad writing... Ungh... Disrespectful..."
"Stop! Stop saying her name!", I screamed, not even knowing why. They laughed.
One skinny guy started flexing one arm, showing muscles where there were none. "Look guys! I'm Abby! I'm a strong female character and I hate males!" He crossed his eyes and made monkey noises. They laughed hysterically.
They stopped, when Abby busted through the door, just like she did in my dream before.
Abby was buff. Buffer than she ever was. And she was angry. It felt like an earthquake, when she started running after the guys. Panic ensued. One guy whistled so loudly, it hurt my ears. "IT'S CUCKMAN'S BITCH! GAMERS! GRAB YOUR WEAPONS!", one guy shouted in a shrill voice. Most of them tried to run away, slipping on the wet floor, stumbling upon their lowered pants and smashing their heads on the ground.
Some of them picked up keyboards and tried hitting her pathetically. It was no use. She grabbed them by their limbs, smashing their bodies into the wall and throwing them into the air as if they were toys, bashing their heads in and tearing their limbs right off. Some cried. Some screamed. "WHITE MALE GENOCIDE! WHITE MALE GENOCIDE!" Limbs, keys and genitals flew through the air. The floor and walls were red with blood. It was a massacre.
I just stood there, like a deer in the headlights. After she had killed every single one of them, she slowly walked towards me, breathing heavily, covered in blood. Abby, this fictional amalgamate, this hated monster, that had triggered so many. I stared at her big videogame arms and carefully asked "How... how did you get-" She interrupted me:
"Every time they say my name: One push-up."
"B-but... What about steroids?."
She reached behind her back and picked up a golf club. She carefully positioned it between my eyes.
"No steroids."
When I woke up my whole body was shaking and I was fully erect. I'm ashamed to admit, I started crying. I felt like my whole identity, everything I believed in, was in danger.
This time I didn't go for a walk. I felt like I had to finally finish what I started. "Be a man!", I said to myself.
I continued writing my post, googling, researching, trying not to get distracted. I thought maybe that way, the dreams would stop.
I finished. All I had to do, was click the "post"-button. I hesitated. "Post..." I felt sick. Something was different this time. Usually I look forward to the upvotes, the comments, the karma, people complimenting my work and humor.
"Screw it." I thought. "Do it." The moment I tried to click the mouse, an image of Abby flexing popped up in my head. Aroused, confused and angry, I gagged. Then I started vomiting uncontrollably. I looked at my screen and keyboard, covered in digested burgers and soft drinks. This wasn't a dream. This was real. My body and my mind were fighting.
I need help. I feel like I can't be myself anymore. I can't even go to my favorite Subreddit, because they won't stop talking about Abby. Abby here, Abby there. And in my mind she gets stronger and stronger, while I get harder and harder, until we both explode.
So here I am, wondering what I'm supposed to do. Who am I? Why am I so obsessed with this fictional character? What does it mean, if I find her attractive? Does it mean I'm gay? Not a real man? What does it mean, to be a man? How can I be a man, when I'm physically weaker than many women out there? Will others still respect me, if I tell them about how I feel about her?
Whatever the answers, I think for now I need to take a break from LOU2 and its memes. I might have to start take care of myself. Start working out. Then, once I'm as buff as Abby, I'll play the game again.
TLDR: Does liking Abby make me gay?
submitted by PureTilla to TheLastOfUs2 [link] [comments]


2020.07.21 19:07 ScandinavianSplenda Camgirl shower

EDIT: I have summarized all the (very) different answers that I got here in this reply: https://old.reddit.com/sugarlifestyleforum/comments/hvdljo/a_year_ago_i_tried_sugar_dating_as_a_sd_biggest/fz2i22t/
Warning: this is long. Like 6000 words long, and it took me around 8 hours to write in a coherent way. Some users here will no doubt find me a moron, gullible, or other negative things. Some will say I was scammed, some will say I had it coming, some will say I wasn’t. Some of you will probably say I have no business in sugar dating, when I don’t have more money than I do. At the very least, I think most of you will have as big a “WTF?” response as I did throughout the whole thing.
I’m a 35 year old dude from Scandinavia. Pretty decent looking, well educated, talkative, social, and a pretty decent job.
So, a year ago, a lot of shit was happening in my life. I was getting ready to get back into a fulltime job as my own startup hadn’t taken off, I was dealing with my dad slowly losing his memory, and a very out-of-nowhere death of my mother, who we expected to have around for another 30 years or so. Not just that, but I had already been dealing with a mild depression for a few years, and now not only did I have to arrange everything (my dad is too old to help much), I was also dealing with lawyers, inheritance, taking over some family business that I had no clue how to run, bank loans suddenly in my name, and on and on. To round things up, this came right after I had broken up with my at-that-time-girlfriend, who had then tried to kill herself and later stalked me online. It wasn’t a great time in my life.
So, at that time, I already knew a little about sugar dating. From curiosity I had been lurking on this sub for half a year or so, and had made a “test account” on SA just to see what it was all like. During last summer, being abroad speaking at a conference, the loneliness cracked me and I paid for a membership.
That said, very quickly, I found out this was not for me. I was getting spammed by escorts, prostitutes, and women wanting me to pay for photos of their feet. I talked to a few, but nothing ever came out of it: they would randomly disappear, one starting talking about keeping it quiet from her real boyfriend (huge turnoff???), and a few turned out to be very very sketchy. After about 3 weeks, I cancelled my membership again.
Within the last few days, I get a message from a 22yo girl I favorited or messaged right at the beginning, from Westcoast’ish region of the US. I explain to her that I was mistaken, and this really wasn’t for me. I was looking for a genuine relationship, not to pay someone for company (though happy to take care of the person I’m with). I’m not insanely rich either and won’t/can’t be the guy that endlessly showers her with money or gifts. I’m well off, but I’m more of a 10%’er than a 1%’er generally speaking. I made all this very clear. So I was happy to talk, but doubted that was what she wanted/was looking for. Surprisingly, she said she wanted the same! “Something real”. So, we started talking. (Side note: you might wonder why I even bothered signing up on a Sugar Dating site then. Well, I fell for the marketing. “These are just women looking to date better men” so to speak. Yes, I’m an idiot.)
We seemed to get along really well and seemed to have a mutual attraction. Looking back, maybe I should have been suspicious just how funny she found my jokes. We clicked almost unrealistically well when it came to kinks, both liked weed, both seemed to be very open people, we shared core values, she seemed interested in me and vice versa. It all seemed great!
Now, distance is obviously a bit of a thing here. For me, not that big a deal. I’ve lived in Japan for a while, so got used to long-distance stuff from there, and have (normal, regular, non-sugary) had a girlfriend in the US before as well. It seemed a bit more problematic for her. We get to know each other, and after a small month of casually talking (texting, but also video chatting around 5 times for several hours at a time), we decide on a date range and I buy her a ticket to come see me for 10 days.
And really, this is where things start taking a bad turn. I should have already noticed some red flags, but I had put it down to cultural and generational differences. She would often disappear for a few days and just not reply. Or when we were agreeing on stuff, randomly disappear for the rest of the day. Was difficult getting in touch with. She would always just tell me she was extremely busy with work, tired when she got home, and wasn’t much of a texter. But at times it was more in the “I just need a yes/no within 24 hours” type things, and she would still be a pain getting in touch with. There also started to pop up a few mild inconsistencies in her stories, that I couldn’t quite tell if were real or not. We would be texting about when we should video chat, and she would leave for days when I sent “so today or tomorrow?” for instance. Super frustrating, leaving a feeling of both not respecting my time, and also fucking up my schedule. We would be texting back and forth, and out of nowhere she would just randomly not reply for a few days. At one point, before I booked the ticket, it had gotten bad enough (she had gone poof for about 1½ weeks) that I wrote her it was fine if she wasn’t interested, but I wasn’t going to deal with this. I have a friend in LA, who called it. “If you do this, just know she’ll shower you with attention right after, but later she’ll go back to being the same”. Which is exactly what had happened.
Anyway.
While my subscription had run out, curiosity got the better of me, and I logged back in to see if she was still active on SA – and at that point, I realized she was still logging back into SA on, at a minimum, daily basis. Hell, there were times she wouldn’t be responding to a message, but would log in for days on end on SA instead. This continued until literally only about an hour before her plane left, on the day she was going here. I’ll be honest, this bugged me, but at the same time who I am I tell people whether they can talk to strangers online or not? We weren’t dating, we weren’t in a relationship. So, I put it in the “not my business” bucket.
Since I was, at this point, really not interested in a “sugar relationship with no strings attached” (again, something I had made extremely clear), I asked about her time on there. She told me she didn’t have a sugar daddy now and hadn’t had one for a long time. “I still go on dates though” – it would take me over half a year to realize this is a polite way of saying “I still meet up and fuck for money though”. At another time, she later said something along the lines of “well I mean I still have sex with some of them if I like them”.
I spent a massive amount of time preparing for this (probably in the 30 hour+ range). She didn’t want to be involved in any planning at all, barely even putting in the effort to say what type of things she wanted to see (“I don’t know what’s there, so I’ll depend on you showing me” type deal). I planned a ton, phoned a bunch of local business to help her out with a certification situation, figured out what we could see in ex amount of days, what she wanted, and also spent a few hours looking at tourist videos on YouTube that I could send her. I sent her 3 (in total, maybe 25min?) which covered different topics – when she arrived, I learned she had never bothered watching any of them, and legit had no fucking clue about my country. Like, really, zero knowledge.
You might be wondering why I hadn’t noped out long before. What can I say, she was beyond charming to talk to, and while her actions clearly spoke of a certain personality, her words and interactions with me did not. I’m a romantic, sue me.
During the final weeks of planning, expenses suddenly started pilling up as well. Not only was I obviously paying the ticket, and all expenses while she was here, but I also paid for a dog sitter (hundreds of dollars for 10 days?), for extra transport, and, at the end, convinced me to also pay her regular salary while she was here – she really needed the money, after all. So now, I’m paying the transport and ticket, all expenses, dog sitter, and her regular salary. At this point I should obviously have known she wasn’t looking for a real relationship, but there was a sunken cost fallacy going on, and as I said, I was lonely as shit. It’s important to note that while I’m well off (particularly for my age), I’m definitely not filthy rich. I make around 100k a year, and have a net worth in the 1% for my generation, but I’m not in a situation where I can throw 5 or 10k around needlessly, you know? I live a nice comfortable life, but I definitely don’t live an American-1%-type life, which of course I had told her very early on.
Now, it can be a bit crazy meeting people like this, so I obviously wanted to Google her a bit, to make sure no murder records show up, lol. But homegirl is an absolute enigma online. Does not exist. No records of anything. No social media. No photos of any kind. Number not connected to anything. ZERO info, to the point where it was obvious that serious effort had been put into hiding herself online. Gotta be honest, that weirded me out a bit – in contrast, to make her feel safe about the whole thing, I messaged her a shitton of info on me (address, public registries, social media, work info, pretty much everything I could think of), which I had no issue with her sharing with a friend for safety. I now understand this is pretty common for sex workers, but remember that at this point, I’m still sold on a “normal relationship”.
I had originally sorted out anyone on SA that had been on the site longer than a year or so, exactly because I wasn’t interested in a “pro”. It was around this time that I realized I had misread her profile – it wasn’t 2 months old, it was 2 years old. “But we’ve made it this far, might as well keep going?” I essentially think.
She arrives, I pick her up at the airport, everything is beyond awesome. I’m extremely happy to see her, she seems extremely happy to see me, seems super excited to be here, seems impressed/happy with my efforts, and all seems pretty good. I think her first reaction when we got back home was “Dude, this is banger”, which still gives me a bit of a laugh. Genuinely great.
Throughout her time here though, weird issues starting popping up. She was very awkward discussing anything socio-economic (and had apparently never heard that term before??), seemed offended (though she would constantly say “I don’t get offended”) when discussing bad neighborhoods in my city (“Yeah? What’s bad about poor people? Is it because they’re foreigners?” – those types of replies, which were way more aggressive than the topic at hand and seemed to spin things out of proportion or intention. They’re bad cuz there’s a ton of crime there...). To my understanding she actually came from a fairly well-off family, which confused me more.
I knew a bit about it already, but she had an extremely negative/weird focus on her own ethnicity (Asian), making it clear she felt it was very awkward and weird I had spent a time of my life living in Tokyo (“I just find it weird to have another country as a hobby…” – why? I think that’s incredibly common, actually), and was asking a lot of questions on exactly how I had originally found her profile – “You must have been looking for Asian girls”. Completely true, I find Asians generally very attractive, but as far as I remember I found her profile by searching for very different things that popped up in her profile (like “420” as an example). But at the same time she had her ethnicity prominently featured in her username and dressed almost stereotypically “young Asian”. While being incredibly awkward about her own ethnicity, she would also say things like “if we started dating, my friends wouldn’t like you... they’d say like, oh, you’re dating that type of guy...”. I didn’t understand at first, but she later explained that, basically, her friends would give her shit for dating a white guy. So, there were a lot of weird shit going on. She would talk a lot about not wanting to be fetishized for being Asian, but at the same time she was the only one who kept bringing it up. Not to mention, as I explained to her several times, I really didn’t view her as “Asian”, I viewed her as “American”.
We went out one night to show her the night life, and at one point a bartender forgets to bill us. She says “Oh he probably gave us the drink for free, that happens all the time, with my ex bartenders always used to tell us how cute we were together and give us the drink for free”. At least from my perspective, that’s a pretty awkward thing to start talking about on a date.
There were other awkward/weird moments that popped up in random conversations. She was a SB, but thought pickup artists were the lamest people in the world. When we talked about kids, she said “I know I have good genes, so I should have kids”. One evening we were out eating, and she just shut down for a hour, getting borderline angry with me for asking what she liked about her hobby/job – “that’s what I talk about all day at work, I don’t want to talk about it now”, which is fine, but she was also extremely secretive with her life, so I had pretty limited conversational topics, and she didn’t really talk about anything else (her work/hobby, weed, and BDSM – that was largely it, so it was difficult to just find a different topic to start talking about at times). Not to mention that she had previously talked endlessly about how much she enjoyed her job, and what a big part of her life that activity was, so it felt very out of nowhere.
But she still felt very affectionate. Still felt real. Never asked me for money, or to buy her anything (I obviously did anyway). There would be days she would just look at me and say “dude, this is legit a perfect day for me right now”. I remember a morning I was making her breakfast, and she just randomly stumbled into the kitchen and just gives me this strong long hug from behind. Over the days there were plenty of words of affection, walking around clinging to my arm, giggling and smiling. Her boss wrote her a few times about issues, and she asked me if I could help her write messages and emails explaining the situation (long story about work stuff, I understood it fairly well, just wrote the message on her behalf in “proper business language” or whatever you’d call it), which I gladly did. Yes, I saw the messages, just normal work stuff. In fact, the whole thing was very disarming, since she just left her phone with me a bit - I’m not an asshole, so I didn’t just go through her conversations. Quick jump back: a day or two before the little sweet hugging, she had one evening asked me to take a test on my “love language”. What do I get? I like people telling me nice things and touching me. When she asked me to take it, I thought she was just being quirky/cute or had an interest in that stuff, but looking back, it’s also a very clever way to know what to say/do to a person to make them like you. Hers were, you guessed it, gifts. Obviously.
Yet at the same time, I often had this weird feeling that I was disappointing her, or not living up to expectations. That really, she would prefer I was someone else than who I was. I often felt I had to “wear a mask” in front of her, and likewise, I often felt that I wasn’t seeing “the real her”. It was awkward, because at times she would outright state that she was attracted to men who very clearly were not the type of person that I am. She liked the Washington-CEO-In-A-Suit-And-In-Control type person, and I’m pretty far in the other end being a romantic fool, pretty casual, have a fine arts degree, and write mopey love songs. I’m a guy that’s extremely empathetic, focuses a lot on being a morally good person, lots of self-deprecating jokes – a far cry from the hard “Christian Grey” type she seemed to actually like.
This “other person” would sometimes pop up in distress, and it would almost be like sitting next to a different person for a few minutes. Very much a “wtf is going on here??” type deal. Sometimes it would be small facial changes or suddenly bursting out a sentence, while at a few other times it would be a fullblown crying your eyes out meltdown (and then 5 minutes later, back to poppy happy-go-lucky self). Other things would be inconsistencies like saying she didn’t care for politics, but would spend 30-60min a day speeding through mostly political news on Reddit and YouTube. Small stuff, but there nonetheless. Small side note in regards to news: it seemed almost confusing for her that I didn’t know all the details about American politics. In general, I think there was a problem for her understanding cultural differences. On the surface level, our two cultures are very alike, or seem to mostly have structural changes, but that’s really not the case. I’d say Japans culture is more similar to us than that of the US, and I think these “hidden differences” fucked with her a lot.
Anyway.
Even if she hadn’t outright said so a few times, it was obvious she was very depressed. One night she almost randomly just broke down and cried her eyes out for a solid 5 minutes, while I’m sitting there trying to comfort her. Other times she would blurt out little comments like “other people will always only look out for themselves” or “you can’t get disappointed if you don’t hope for anything”. She had been suicidal in the past and was clearly still on the verge of something serious. At one point while we were out eating, she literally looked at me and said “I wouldn’t have come here if I didn’t want to die” - which I have to say is one of the most far out comments I’ve ever received from anyone. Once she noticed the shock / hurt on my face, for obvious reasons, she added something like “I don’t mean you, I mean this situation” or something like that. When you go from a relationship with someone who wants to kill themselves if you’re not together, it’s a pretty big leap to being told the only reason someone is spending time with you is because they don’t care if they die. Even now, I still really don’t know what to say about that. Anyway, point being, she was hella depressed.
This ties into lifestyle and sexuality.
Sexually, she was heavily into BDSM. Like... real heavy into it. I’m into it. I’ve played with it. I actually know quite a bit about it, but she blew me out of the sky. With a nuke, strapping another nuke. Like, DAMN. Initially this was something I was very into, as it tied pretty much perfectly into my own sexual interests – but this quickly changed. I learned her father had beaten her and her mother a lot, and she had pretty much run away at 18 to college (scholarship), after which she had jumped straight into the hardcore BDSM scene. There, she engaged in very heavy play from day one, with a lot of people. She had a profile on a fetish site she showed me, and it was pretty much all just filled with comments from guys over the years writing how they fucked her up. I think one of them just said something like “I should have beaten you harder”. It was actually pretty depressing to read, not to mention that one of her only personal updates on that profile was a few years back, clearly distressed, talking about how “you should never think a Master is an actual friend” or something like that. At some point during all this, she tells me, she was also sexually assaulted. She was very into essentially getting beaten up or treated like trash. She had been in several “24/7 BDSM relationships”, had been with one or two dudes who liked “giving her” to other guys, and so on. She had tried aaaaalmost everything apart from an outright gangbang. On one hand she spoke very openly about it all, with zero shyness. On the other hand, one evening we were talking about sexual partners, and she refused to engage in the conversation when I asked what number of sexual partners she had had (keep in mind this is in a conversation where we also just talked about her getting fucked in public in front of a bunch of people and other similar activities, had shared abuse stories, life stories, etc. – not to mention it’s a topic casual enough in my country, that I know the number of sexual partners for both my parents and a few friends) and seemed to get outright angry/offended at the question. Almost ruined the entire evening, she REALLY didn’t like being asked, and simply stated “I don’t know, my generation doesn’t keep count”. What little reaction I got, left me with the impression that it was in the hundreds over just a few years.
Now, it might sound like I’m trying to shame her or something. That’s really not it. Fuck whoever you want, not my business what you get up to in your sex life. I’ve done some shit I don’t talk about at dinners too. But when you have a girl that essentially ran away from home because she was abused by her dad, had what I understood as a very weak mother, is obviously incredibly depressed, with obvious low self-esteem/self-worth, I can’t stand here and say that it is responsible to engage in humiliating/degrading/objectifying sexual activities with a ton of guys that don’t care about you. Moreso, I’m extremely disappointed in all the older men who apparently over the years had zero problems with fucking this girls head up. I read a post from a person on here who wrote “Power Exchange only works if there is actual power to exchange”. It didn’t feel like power exchange, it felt like taking advantage of someone. The more I learned about her, the more I felt everything we were engaging in was just enabling and furthering her unhealthy and self-destructive behavior. I tried talking to her about it, but she seemed pretty unresponsive to the conversation, and genuinely like she hadn’t thought about it, and didn’t care. She smoked weed on a daily basis, and not the lightweight kind. We went and bought some here, and she basically didn’t feel anything at all because she was used to vaping some crazy shit at home. Another sign that she wasn’t happy with her life and preferred to space out, so she didn’t have to think about it. To me at least, it appeared she had started mixing sugar dating and BDSM as pretty much her first relationships, and had at this point largely internalized them as “how normal relationships are”.
One night we were out eating, I had taken her to what is one of the most expensive restaurants in the country in a very old classic hotel, absolutely stunning interior, and I was venting a bit about what kind of expectations were placed on me by family, what type of life I was supposed to lead, and so forth. As I noted earlier, for me it’s very important to try and uphold a certain moral integrity, to be a “good person”, both trusting and trustworthy, helping out others when I can and so on. She was beyond kind in her words to me there, and reaffirmed many wonderful things on how kind of a person she thought I was. In fact, it was so “perfect”, that it made me speculate on whether it was true – though a genuine friend of mine has previously told me the same, so I bought it, and simply thought I should learn to accept a nice compliment.
One or two days later, we’re out drinking. During the trip, she told me she had previously done a Ketamine treatment for her depression about 1½ years earlier, and was saving up to go for a second treatment now, but it was very expensive. She was also engaged in 2 lawsuits with former business partners - she had ditched her scholarship midway, to start up her own business with some friends in South America, but she refused to tell me the details, yet explained how badly treated she was by different systems and people there. Basically, homegirl was hella broke and needed money for treatment and lawsuits. While I may be overreacting, keep in mind the timing she starts dropping this topic into the conversation: a day after I’ve just told her about myself as a person and my reaction to such situations.
She needed about 20k in total – I told her I wouldn’t give her that, but that I could probably help her out with half of it or something, maybe a bit more if we agreed it was a longterm loan (I was in a situation where I needed to make sure shit with my bank was flowing, before I could do much, a situation that only finally settled about 3 months ago now). I didn’t want her to feel obligated to be with me for this, so I made it clear I would send it whether we decided to stay together or not. Before you call me a complete idiot, keep in mind I thought I was building a real relationship with this girl. Her profile quite literally states “looking for something real”. So here I am, in a privileged life with little real worries, never had to fend truly for myself, with a ton of expendable capital. Yes, of course I’ll help, it sounds/sounded like a truly horrible situation. Not to mention she really needed therapy.
The rest of the trip flows fairly well. In fact, one evening out, she told me that “This might be toxic. It feels so good being here, and it’ll be crap when I get back home”. There were days where I had genuinely not felt so relaxed and at ease with a person in close to a decade. Days later, some crying goodbyes in the airport, and off she goes. We planned on meeting up again and take a trip together to Tokyo a few months later.
Now, it’s a year ago, so I might be remembering things incorrectly here, but a few days ago I got a memory of her saying something like “why does it feel like this is the last time we’ll see each other?”. At the time I completely brushed it off, I mean, it wasn’t going to be the last time obviously!
My curiosity gets the better of me, and I look if she’s still constantly logging on to SA. Before she even landed in her own airport, just the airport for the interconnecting flight, and she’s back checking SA. Maybe she never stopped checking it, I didn’t look while she was here. We talk a bit, I try and give her some extra space (we talked about that), but pretty quickly she starts disappearing for days on end again. The conversation moves more towards her financial situation. I tell her it’s still a few weeks before I can transfer any money. She talks about maybe having to join the army to avoid just going broke. Next day she writes me what I think of her being a camgirl (I told her I thought it should require some serious thought before she did that). Looking back, the timing again is interesting to say the least. I’m now thinking/realizing if it was more her telling me she needed to do these shitty jobs, so I would get my ass in gear and send her some money.
Which of course I did. I sent her some money. Sure, the trip and everything had already cost me around 5k, but a promise is a promise after all. I realized the bank thing would drag out for a while, and thought hey, I’ll just send it now. Since I didn’t want to do it over my bank, I did it to her paypal – lucky for me, PayPal put a hard cap on how much I could send in 1 month, so I could only send half the agreed amount at first (around 3500). So I sent it, and wrote her a little email (as we had agreed) saying it was a loan, and please reply back that she understood it was. Then, complete and utter silence for about a week. Then a single email pops up, with her name, email, address, and “I accept the terms of the loan”. That was the last message I ever got back from her.
Obviously, I tried to write her, both via email and WhatsApp. The messages were never read. At first I was worried, going as far as to anonymously asking for advice on her situation on different Subreddits. I think the most correct answer I got back was from a girl in a somewhat similar situation, who said “if it’s true, help her if she asks, but there’s no way she’ll accept help from you, she needs to want it herself, you won’t be able to convince her, and if you push, she’ll probably just leave”. Buuuuut then I saw she was still logging in pretty much daily to SA, which in a weird way made me feel a lot better, because hey, at least she didn’t kill herself or something. At least she was “OK”.
This is the first, and so far only, time in my life someone ghosted me and honestly it fucked with me a lot. Someone I felt very emotionally connected to, and poof, gone without any explanation (along with some money). I felt like I had opened up to someone, trusted someone, and this was just... not what I expected. I genuinely couldn’t get her out of my mind, no matter how much I tried. Nothing about anything makes any sense, and everything felt like a giant contradiction. Was she young and freaked out about emotional commitment and just noped out? One friend thinks so. Was she a clever scammer from the getgo, and so brilliant at it I’m not even sure what happened afterwards? Another friend thinks so.
I’ve dated a few other girls since, even met up with a few sugar babies afterwards, and nothing works. It’s driving me absolutely insane, and I absolutely wish I could think of something else.
Was she a scammer? If so, a pretty bad one, since she could definitely have gotten more money out of me, and had no guarantee I would fall for any of this before she committed to coming here. I sent her no money before she arrived, which she was completely cool with. If she wanted money, it would also have been a lot more logical to stick around a month longer so I could send her the other half (I obviously didn’t). And why bother replying to the email then? Why give me an address and additional mail accounts? That makes no sense. That’s like the opposite actions of a smart scammer. Not to mention the many moments that had felt truly genuine and personal between us.
At the same time, looking back it’s obvious that when she disappeared, she was just with another dude. She constantly logged in on SA. Told me about how some guy was “lending her his tesla”, you know, just out of kindness (oh, and also writing her if she wanted to go on trips with him... again, you know, just out of kindness). Looking back, she was (possibly) incredibly manipulative. Roped me into giving her more and more money, and when she finally got another good chunk just disappeared completely, all while you’re convinced you’re looking to possibly build something together here. That’s just a regular ol’ love scam.
Or am I completely misunderstanding the situation, and should really be focusing on her mental illness in all of this? There’s plenty there, if what she told me was true, to explain erratic behavior like this, or feelings of freaking out or being unworthy when someone genuinely cares for you. That’s perfectly common symptoms of such situations.
Clouding it even more, there were definitely times I was weird as well. Generational differences and cultural differences mostly, but I also had this weird feeling of walking on eggshells around her, and I was at times incredibly bad at being straight forward, and other times pretty awkward emotionally. I can’t quite explain to you why, but I suppose part of that just came from being in a very new situation – which, equally, could be said about her. Thinking about it, another bit would be how she would correct me about things fairly directly, “don’t apologize so much” (it’s a cultural thing), or “isn’t it pretty rude that you’re walking on the inside of the pavement right now?”. It put things on edge.
I’ve even thought of emailing her telling her I’d outright pay for answers, just for the clarity of mind. I’m not even kidding when I say I would be thrilled for her to coldly tell me I’m an idiot and got scammed. Christ, what wonderful peace that would give me. What I wouldn't give for proper closure. The 10 days we spent together is an unending stream of utterly contradicting actions and words, and it’s really fucking with me.
Technically I could try to write her on Facebook. I didn’t find her. I had posted a picture of us on Instagram (again, very disarming that she didn’t care at all about taking a ton of pictures and videos together, and no issue if I wanted to share it on SoMe), and Facebooks algorithm suggested her as a friend about 2 months later. I obviously didn’t try to Friend her.
So here I am. Still can’t get this girl out of my head, and frustratingly enough, still with feelings for her. On one hand, I’m very thankful for the experience – it helped me grow a lot as a person. On the other hand, it’s one of the few in my life that I wish I could go back and just erase.
She logged back in a month ago, and I can’t help but wonder what she’s up to now. I hope she's well. Maybe writing all this here will mildly help me get all this shit sorted in my brain.
EDIT: If you made it this far, bravo! If you look through the comments, you'll see people here can't decide either. Some think it was an obvious scam. Others think it was two people meeting at a bad time in their lives. Some simply conclude "accept that you'll never know".
submitted by ScandinavianSplenda to sugarlifestyleforum [link] [comments]


2020.07.08 21:48 HelloOCD89 I (f/30) feel like I am responsible for my partners(m/27)

My boyfriend and I of 3 years have a great relationship. Well, I at least thought that for the longest time. We communicate so well, he accepts me for who I am (weird and not the "norm"). It's like I have been dating my best friend and I love that.
Recently his BP has been at a manic low. I actually have joined in on his therapy sessions the last two months to help his therapist with what information I know and see when he has these manic lows and highs. My boyfriend actually enjoys me being in his sessions, and so does his therapist. Anyways, so the lows...the depression...its really bad. Speaking out about suicide, every morning having panic attacks before work. Anger and rage usually follow that shortly after the panic attacks subsided.

He has been staying with me in my one-bedroom apartment because I really have a hard time with him being home alone and having these dark evenings and mornings after and before work. His therapist and I know that his work contributes to his episodes but he refuses to leave. That is something we are working on in therapy and I hope we find a solution quickly. Unfortunately, he has not gone through with the many plans we had set with leaving his job out of being scared. With that being said...every morning I have begun to dread. Usually, I love mornings...drinking coffee, watching some youtube videos, and getting ready to work from home. I act like I have a job that I go to so I live a somewhat normal scheduled life. His panic attacks are every day. Sometimes hours long...with me awake and helping him through them. I have learned many ways of bringing him down from them but sometimes that doesn't even help. He goes to work, hating his job....and when he gets there, he always says sorry, or thank you for helping me this morning. I always say, of course, that's why I am here...we are there for each other. He gets home from maybe a 6-8 hour day and gets home (my place since he has been staying here instead of his apartment because of me being scared of his suicide ideations) he starts playing video games...sometimes for hours...until he eats the dinner I made around 11 pm and then goes to bed to do it all again in the morning.

I have learned a lot about BP and I do a lot of research to learn more about it all the time. He didn't chose to have this, and he shouldn't ever feel like he is a burden on someone because of it.

With all of this happening, every single day...I have not been sleeping more than 5 hours a night because early in the morning I help him through his panic attacks and vocal suicide threats. I have been doing all the laundry, making sure the place is clean (since I work from home, I like to keep a clean apartment. it's only one bedroom so it can get out of hand fast). Making dinners, prepping snacks for the week. Running all the errands, and making sure that he has nothing to worry about. That when he gets home he can sit down and relax from the day. I also haven't been working, at all. I am a camgirl and have been for 10 years and I love my job, but my energy has been lowered to nothing. I am exhausted from the morning episodes and physically exhausted from being a "stay at home girlfriend" and making sure everything is well kept. I don't ask him to make dinners, or take the trash out, or anything. I make him shower every night because I know that it can be hard sometimes for him mentally to do things. I pick his outfits out for the next day as well. I pack his bag, make his coffee...all of it. I am consumed in this BP bubble and I know it's not healthy. I know he is comfortable with all of it and that's why he doesn't see it. I usually continue the night with cleaning up dinner and watching him play video games with his friends. He and I haven't been on a date (there is the coronavirus issue so things have been closed) or even outside for a walk. We don't play games together, or anything besides watch movies and usually they don't get done because he's so tired after he eats.

I know, well I guess I don't because I don't have BP but I know he struggles, and I can't imagine what he goes through, but I feel like a caretaker and I have become totally responsible for him and his life. I am a mom and I get my daughter as much as I want because her dad and I live so close to each other, but I haven't had the energy to do much with her because of what has been going on.

I want to tell him all these things about what I am feeling, but I also don't want him to feel guilt.

-HOCD
submitted by HelloOCD89 to BipolarSOs [link] [comments]


2020.04.21 08:37 negnegnegneg I, 25M have been a lonely, neckbeard creep all my life. I need help to break from this virginity hell!

a bit of a longwinded and touchy one here folks but bear with me.
So I’ve gone through so many of these “wanna get better” phases and it pisses me off. I have all the horrible weaknesses in the world to make dating almost impossible for me. OCD, autism, social anxiety and misophonia. I’ve tried PUA and dating sites to disastrous results. The former I didn’t know any better about and I regret even trying it.
And with this era of Coronavirus, not going outside has got me to this point. I am an autistic neckbeard creep. And I wanna stop.
Here are some examples of “digging myself into a hole”:

I just do not want to be like this anymore. I don’t want to keep creeping out everyone I walk past and be pitied like I was all my adulthood.
The worst part? I get panic attacks after hearing crowd noises and applause. This means no concerts, clubs or events. What the fuck am I meant to do here? Thankfully I wear noise-cancelling earphones with pink noise which can let me go to the city without panic.
But enough ranting, I just wonder what I can put in effort in for now while I’m stuck at home. What will I be able to do to start living a non-creep life? What things can I attend, how can I get my confidence up? I’m basically starting from ground zero here :/
Finally, I wonder if this is even possible? Turning 26, never got remotely in a close relationship in my entire life and being an autist I really worry to see that I can get more mature than identically a 12yo
Thanks for the help :)
submitted by negnegnegneg to askseddit [link] [comments]