I just found out last night that a friend (with benefits back when I didn’t know that “free love” meant guilt free use) of mine who “fell off the grid” after I woke up, didn’t go to India. That was something he just told me so that I wouldn’t worry about him when he disappeared. He even deleted my phone number from his cell phone so that nobody would call me to tell me that he was dead. He shot himself shortly after the last time we spoke.
This makes him the fourth man who hurt me intimately, to die of violence. The second by suicide. The first was a long time ago and was part of what inspired my year of celibacy in the 90’s.
I’m not sure what to feel right now.
Would my willingness to continue to be the sexual wet nurse of someone who didn’t seem to take me seriously have made a difference? Did my telling him plainly why I wouldn’t, drive him over the edge? Or was it something else?
Shanti had a little problem. It was something like a mild form of Tourettes. Most people wouldn’t take the time to try to understand him, but I did. For awhile, he was part of my circle, until I woke up.
If what Grievous says is true, he’ll be the first “casualty of war” for me in Israel. As an insult, Roissy (update 2016, we now know this is James Weidman, the infamous troll who reinvented himself to a phony PUA guru, and then revealed himself to be a “white” supremacist and Trump campaign sellout) told me that any guy who would touch me must be hopelessly omega, but I’m not sure if he understood what he was saying. If he was hopelessly omega, then I was probably the only woman on earth who would touch him, or perhaps he felt that I was so loathesome as to not matter towards his confidence.
If it’s the latter then well, good riddance. He was my enemy as he was truly just using my body to masturbate. I was irrelevant to him, and should not feel any loss because he wasn’t my friend. I was just a hole to him. Guys who feel they’re entitled to use women like me simply on the basis of mainstream looks standards pretty much need to leave this earth and leave more room and resources for survivors.
If, on the other hand, he felt more deeply for me than he was letting on, then perhaps I should have probed more instead of assuming that he just thought of me as a hole while he was alive.
My instincts are pretty good now that I’m listening to them though. So I’m not going to let Grievous make me feel guilty for choosing my own emotional survival over that of someone who wouldn’t have blinked at hearing about my death. We’ll see later this evening.
Later that evening, I got a more complete picture of Shanti and what went wrong. It appears that I was right. He was down on himself because he wanted to be “normal” and figured that part of this was treating me the way “normal” guys here do. He liked me, but the racism/xenophobia led him to disrespect me, which led me to rightfully reject his offer to humiliate me again.
So now I know what to feel. Letting go is good.