Moving from love to hate?

You gave me attention and approval. It was intoxicating. I had that experience with H, too- approval like sunshine, which made me desperate for it to continue when it abruptly turned to disdain. You showed the signs of arousal, arousing me. You reinforced that by sending pictures, of you in underwear, and I spent hours, aroused, thinking of you. All this is extremely powerful.

I called you “Mistress”, and fantasised about kneeling to you. You did not propose I do this. I feel ridiculous blaming you for it- what did you do, to make me? Entice me? Suggest it, non-verbally? These are the clichés of female domination. Once I did, you approved, and it became habitual. I do not like to think of myself as helpless, but I blame you. I feel manipulated.

I miss being aroused by another human being. This apparent connection meant a great deal to me. But I do not deserve the humiliation of kneeling to someone.

I think of Vince. You lived with him for- four years? He may have been the first man you dominated, it may have been his idea. Then it seemed C was rescuing you from him, taking you into her home. He drove you to her house, and you told me of his road-rage incident, when the other driver got out of the car to threaten him. You gave me his Netflix password, so I have his email address.

On 26 April, you tweeted a screenshot of a payment of £250. “A little something to pamper yourself with Goddess!” You gloated that he cannot serve you in person, and hashtagged #welltrainedsub #cuckold_queen. You blanked out the name but showed the initial letter V. Who else could it be? Everyone you have told about Vince knows it is him. What you told me made me sympathise with you and find him rather unpleasant, which does not fit with his continuing devotion.

You talked endlessly of Authenticity. Be all you can be! Don’t talk of authenticity if you exploit people. I wondered how much to blame you. You have had some bad luck in your life, and are far too talented to be working in a pub. You do your thing and men abase themselves before you and give you money. Why on Earth would you not? I don’t know if you can make a living from dominating and selling porn, but can see why you would try. Though you know you have little time- you complained to me about the signs of aging.

My concern is for those you victimise and manipulate. I want to be overwhelmed, sexually, and imagine so do they. They and I do not deserve to be humiliated. They do not deserve to get emotionally entangled with a sex worker who entangles so many others, but a fulfilling romantic relationship with someone who fits them. The humiliation may make them less likely to form a stable bond.

You know that, and you still live off them. Drafting this, I call it, “Moving from love to hate?” I may delete the question mark eventually, or possibly it will resolve into pity. The feelings are complex. On 2 May, you tweeted, “Saying no to me isn’t an option.” Well, I did.

C told you to leave, giving more than a month’s notice, and I offered to put you up. Then I said I would not submit to you and wanted you here as a friend, and you refused. Sick of humiliation, I shamed you, publicly. Then you made a series of self-justifying tweets, which possibly referred to me. One said a judgment conceived in contempt and self-hatred cannot reduce your value. One said you had cried enough that week. Despite Vince’s continuing devotion, I know people will see through you, and like C and me reject you. Some will find self-respect, and grow out of you. Your strong enchantments failing, they will be free.

Here is an account of my interactions with Miss Dark Waters.

17 May: I published this on 5 May, lashing out in anger. I miss her energy, wit, intelligence and zest for life. I miss the erotic attention, though I know it was manipulative. I miss her expression of valuing me.

On 11 May, I had read her twitter, saying she was ill, and I texted her saying I was sorry she was ill. She texted back saying she was thawing towards me. Then on 14 May she texted to say she had seen this and ask me to take it down. She did not want contact from me for at least six months. If I did call her in November, she might merely send me her price list, or torture me further. But it gave a tincture of hope which really got to me.

She deleted her twitter. I was not fully conscious of my anger. Now I am publicly expressing it, here. I conceive the possibility that I may get over it and take this down, but now I am lashing out in the way that I can.

It is a female experience: the dominant one overwhelms with admiration and attention until they have sex, then he drops her. Or, until it appears she will not surrender. “There are plenty more fish in the sea” for many women, but for me? Much of my rage and misery comes from contemplating a freezing, empty ocean. I want her now, more than I might, because I can’t imagine anyone else being interested.

21 May: bringing the anger to consciousness has done its job. I do not particularly want to hurt her, but I now know she treated me badly, and hurt me. I imagined her to be attractive, and it was an act she performs, under which she treated me with dismissive contempt. She absolves herself by claiming she deals with people who are clear about their boundaries, but my experience is that people often are not.

I have to hate, to get over her. I said, “I love you”, knowing it was ridiculous, but still meaning it. She replied, “I love you too”. If this were true, “It works how I want it to work” less than three weeks later would not have been true. She is a sex-worker, who creates fantasies for a living, but I don’t create fantasies. She exploits people. Hate may give way to disgust and indifference.

17 June: I thought she had deleted her twitter, but she had only moved it.

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