Girl on the Net

This week’s guest blog includes discussion of sexual violence. It’s by the brilliant @EuphemiseThis, who’s written here in the past about gorgeously sexy things – having her first threesome, being spanked by a couple, and lots more. But today she’s here to share a recent experience with a man who was not who he said he was. One of the things that has helped save countless people I know from abuse is the bravery of people speaking up about when it happens – sharing stories and alerting others to people who may be a danger to them. Huge thanks to her for sharing her story here.

I discovered he was abusive before I met him

2020 had been tough and he slid into my DMs at just the right time. Someone I’d been sexting with since the start of the year was becoming increasingly distant and so I was horny and frustrated, along with all the other emotions that months of fear and lockdowns had brought out. He was someone I’d been following on Instagram for a couple of years but we’d never really chatted, so I was surprised when a stories reply turned into a conversation. After a few days I asked “are you flirting with me?” and his positive response led to a swift escalation, by me, from texting to sexting. I told a close friend and she asked if I was into him. I looked at his photos again and told her, “I’m not not attracted to him, if that makes sense.” It’s weird how an attraction can start to appear from out of nowhere once you know that someone’s into you.

The chats tailed off but resumed a month later. He told me he’d been ill with Long Covid symptoms. This time we chatted more in a ‘getting to know each other’ kind of way and he seemed like a genuinely interesting person. When the conversation turned back to sex, we discovered that we’re both filthy in the same ways; into a particular type of kinky sex that needs trust and communication, both of which we were slowly building. I suggested we have a video date as I wanted to see if this spark would be there ‘in person’ – or as close to that as we could get while 400 miles apart in the middle of a pandemic! – and he enthusiastically agreed. It went well. He seemed charming and intellectual, but with that delicious side order of filth, and the hours quickly flew by. We planned another a few days later and these dates then became a weekly thing.

In text chats on WhatsApp and our weekly video calls, we discussed all the ways we wanted to fuck each other. I told him I wanted him to spank me, to hurt me, to feel his rough hands around my throat as his cock entered my cunt, to feel the bite of the leather from his belt stinging my arse cheeks before he fucked me hard and fast. We discussed my cravings as a bisexual switch and the women we’d like to co-top or watch each other fuck. We discussed our deepest desires, various mutual crushes, and our insatiable lust for sexual acts that didn’t sit especially well with our left wing political views. I told him things I’ve never told anyone else about my darkest wants and my sexual past. I opened up in ways I was completely comfortable with, because I trusted him.

Seven months passed and the future started looking a little safer, with vaccines becoming readily available and case numbers steadily decreasing, so I made plans to visit. He lives in a city I love but haven’t seen in years, so I desperately wanted to explore it with him. I discussed dates and shared flight timings, and he was extremely enthusiastic; seemed genuinely as thrilled as I was that we were going to finally meet in person. By this point I had, against my better judgement, completely fallen for a man I’d never met and he’d admitted to having feelings for me too. I was so hopeful that this would turn into a long distance kinky open relationship which would satisfy us both.

It turned out that the man I fell in love with didn’t really exist.

When I found out he’d been doing the exact same thing with someone else – daily messaging, regular video dates, discussions of their kinkiest sexual desires – I wasn’t upset that she existed, just that he’d not thought to mention to me how close they were. After all, I’m he knows I’m polyamorous and we’d spent a lot of time talking about all the women we’d like to fuck, so why did he never mention his dates with her? I asked why, and he explained that he saw her only as a friend; the women we discussed were those we desired so it didn’t feel relevant to him to mention her. Seemed vaguely plausible, but something felt off. Was he completely oblivious to other people’s emotions, or manipulative as fuck? I chatted with the other woman and so many of the things we’d both thought were endearingly weird about him soon started to look more like red flags.

Being a kind and trusting person, I wanted to believe this man I’d fallen in love with, but something told me that may be foolish. So I messaged the only person I could think of who would be able to shed some light on who he really was: his ex. We’d followed each other on Instagram for many years and she now has a wonderful loving relationship, so I hoped that a message asking if her ex was trustworthy wouldn’t be too weird a thing to appear in her inbox. At first she told me factual tales of strange incidents from throughout their relationship which only served to back up the worries that had started to grow in my mind but then, as we chatted some more and I explained why I was asking, she told me something that shook me to my core. The thing that made her leave.

He once hit her so hard during sex that she passed out, but he kept going.

This was a man who claimed to be safe and consensual. Who said he respected boundaries and who nodded in approval when I talked about limits and safewords. In her words he “plays the ‘woke bloke’ persona rather astutely,” and I had been completely fooled. I’m heartbroken that he lied, and made me think that he had feelings for me. I’m still mourning the loss of the future that will never be. But mostly I’m terrified by the reminder that the sort of sex I like can be dangerous. How do you know if the person you’re talking to will respect your boundaries and play safe? If they say all the right things, how do you know they’re not lying?

I’m worried that he’s doing this to other women. Even if he never meets them in person and so never oversteps their boundaries in a physically damaging way, the emotional distress caused by this man is not to be underestimated. Countless female friends have offered their support and understanding, in addition to some helping me to spread the word that this man is not to be trusted. Most male friends have been supportive too, but one unhelpfully told me that I should stop ignoring red flags. The thing is, it’s impossible to see red flags through rose tinted glasses, and it took chatting with two strong intelligent women who were also taken in by his charm for me to realise that this is not on me. It’s entirely on him.

He’s not worth a single one of my tears, but I can’t stop crying with shame when I think of all the times I told him that I wanted him to hurt me until tears streamed down my face. If we’d met in person as planned and I’d been alone in a hotel room with him, those text conversations could have been his defence if he’d violated my boundaries and I decided to go to the police. “She liked it rough. She asked me to do that.” There were times when I took so much joy in imagining being used purely for his pleasure, but that was back when I thought that the person underneath truly cared for me and did actually want me to enjoy it too.

I wanted to warn as many other women as I can, and he has a definite type so that was a pretty easy task at first. I scoured Instagram and Fetlife for women he may have been in contact with, and plenty had already found his messages creepy so were staying away, but it’s hurting my mental health to keep thinking about him so I now need to let go. I thought I’d write this blog post as my final goodbye and I feel it should end on a positive note – a glimmer of hope for others like me – but I’m not sure what advice I can give.

We all know that people put their best bits on Instagram, but how do you tell when that’s actually all a lie?