There was a particular man in my life last summer who brought with him a particular brand of drama. Though it's true that I tend to hold onto partners slightly longer than their expiration dates, normally I am not one to keep a toxic person in my life if he's not making up for it with good sex. But I feed off of chemistry. Yes - as I will make clear in the upcoming essay Sweet Sixteen's Bangs Are Too Short, we couldn't talk to each other in person - but in writing we were brilliant. It's amazing what can happen to a relationship when you allow yourself to text more than one or two times a day. It's all too easy to ignore standard social boundaries and develop a sense of intimacy that would otherwise be impossible were you t0 only communicate in person date to date. The two of us built up a virtual battleground between our cell phones that became so deeply biting and real it felt like we had been together for a year. I may have myself to blame for this, for my Achilles heel is the use of text and email to keep it so real it can only go wrong. I don't know what his problem is, but I dared the shit out of him, and it got so weirdly amusing and frighteningly telling of the damaging pitfalls of modern communication that it's worth a share.
At the conclusion of our first single week of hangouts and only one (very good) fuck this man broke it off with me by diminishing my mental worth while simultaneously telling me I was the most attractive person who exists. Any normal woman would know why this is such a problem, especially after he had lectured me about being "part of the problem" for the modern woman in whatever hot button gender role jargon is going around right now. So I sent him this text the following week. I was also horny. He's really tall.
A meme. A MEME. The guy's got a great big dick ok? Like Huge. If you can't tell by the MEME clearly he thinks that I worship the cock and apparently I'm not getting any. I actually thought this was a playful invitation to really come fuck but that's just how I roll. Not everyone has a sense of humor about themselves. Particularly about their dicks. And challenges. And man did I challenge him.
I followed up with a mini LectureText that I sincerely regret was not saved before I got a new phone because it points to my own acts of terror. But I can paraphrase easily: I told him that I ignored his bullshit flag because the sex was great, I liked to bring the Dom out of him, and something about "only listens to rap - you're a Gem!" If you read any of my source material, particularly my essay on the different types of men that I fuck, this will strike you as oddly genuine. And it was. I had an initial irresistible attraction to this tall motherfucker that came out in a really mean way. But he totally ate it up, I think he hates his mom or something.
To avoid writing a play by play of this relationship let me just mention that he resurfaced shortly, we exchanged a lot of texts over a long period of time, I got laid one more time EVENTUALLY, then we blew the fuck up and he's probably going to find this blog, lose his shit and act out publicly. The key points here being *lots of texts, *laid ONCE, and *blowing the fuck up.
The following screenshots are some great exchanges that are really quite entertaining when you consider that we had only spent a handful of times together in person. So little sex.
Here is an example of the disconnect we had over this very need for The Sex, though I'm pretty sure he just messed with me because I wanted it and he controlled whether or not I was going to get it.
And here, why I should never tell men that I write or what I write about, and why I should NEVER share samples when they ask me to:
Does he have a point? I feel like he was feeling a little insecure and even hurt after reading a file describing what it means to be a Sub and what a Dom is really expressing when he performs his trademark sex acts. Men don't want to know that shit. Men who aren't real Doms. You have to keep the fantasy alive for them. But my cruel treatment of this one and the way I turned it around to blame his own inadequacies gave him substantial reason to retaliate making all of this text hostility so deeply and all too personally wonderful. Let's move on.
Speaking of Real Doms. After I put Alpha on the table he liked to grab at it. One time I sent a quick "Nope" in response to a late-enough-night invite, and left it at that. He responded identically when I tried to flirt the next day, It played out like this:
It's important to keep in mind how little facetime we actually had yet these hot and cold arguments flowed so easily it felt like we knew each other intimately. Though in person we could hardly complete a conversation, behind the safety of our screens we had free reign to express ourselves without the need for filtration. It got pretty nasty in moments. And it felt like I was fighting with an actual boyfriend. Or more like - a teenage girl.
Finally in attempting to meet up again after having actually accomplished a pleasant evening and decent fuck for the first time in months, I accidentally set him off for the Last. Goddam. Time. He had been proposing and rescheduling nights for a couple weeks. I strongly disagree with Power Moves when I am missing out on other activities because I think I have a date. That's not controlling or dominating. It's fucking rude. So I directly sought out confirmation - to no avail. Tripped right over that landmine as if he had been crouched in the nearby brush staring, waiting, panting.
You'll notice a total change in my attitude and I may actually look socially submissive here. Whether or not I was trying a new tactic because I was sick of hostility and he seemed to respond well to my kindness the week prior I still don't know. I very well may have genuinely had a good time and changed my plan for him outright. Though I hate to admit that I could have simply wanted to make him feel like he had the upper hand as a result of either guilt or the desperate need for sex. I'm human you know.
In hindsight what is absolutely astounding about this long drawn out fruitless relationship is that it was anything but. We saw each other at most 10 times. We had sex only 4. Yet our written communication spanned months. It was primarily hostile and psychologically abusive. Not included here are the long callous intentionally hurtful email attacks. On both ends we reached a level of personal assault through text and email that felt unprecedented for how little two people actually came into contact with one another. Our cruel targeted assessments sprouted from pure speculation and unfair assumptions based on our own separate lifelong damages. Yes - he is a fucking crazy person, unstable and emotionally irrational, and I probably wouldn't have lectured him and tried to put him his place all the time if he didn't burst at the slightest provocation. But the fact that the lectures and bursts came so easily is a crippling phenomenon that has only surfaced with the advent of modern modes of communication and our recent share-culture. We have reached a level of comfort with each other where we go ahead and say whatever the hell we want without fear of consequence. When you're sitting across from another human you can see the shocked reaction on his face, or disappointment, or unease, when you go a little too far. Talking on the phone you may observe a pregnant pause or quick change of tone. But behind the safety of a neutral screen and no obligations or code of conduct we are now in the final stages of social detrition.
There doesn't seem to be any stopping this boundary erosion. Not yet anyway. The best we can do is try to control it on an individual scale. The two things I took away from this summer struggle were A - once a man calls you uninteresting or a loser he's actually worried that he's uninteresting or a loser which means he's manufactured because it's likely the truth and B - it pays to hold back a little when you meet a new person. Maybe if you remain reserved and just let out a little at a time he won't feel comfortable enough right away to dissect and pull apart, you'll be able to hold off on being a bitch, and you won't end an entire wasted summer with a bruised ego, unsatisfied libido, and feeling totally exhausted and disappointed in men generally. We all need to calm down. There's plenty of time to get to know each other and build these connections in person. We can't expend all of this emotional energy on virtual strangers. We have to save the real meaning in our lives for the people who matter. You'll find that fewer than you think actually do, and they'd never in a million years call you Boring.