As you know, the story with HoneyEyes is over. But maybe you don’t know how.
At the end of last year, HoneyEyes decided to quit her job and start a new career. She wanted to study, reinvent herself, and change direction. She was very unsure about what to do, so I suggested a Digital Marketing course, thinking she could become a great saleswoman. I told her to think it over and that I would support her in any decision.
In the end, she chose Digital Marketing. I gifted her the course since she couldn’t afford it. She started following it with great dedication, but the further she went, the more her dissatisfaction grew. She claimed that life wasn’t for her, that she didn’t see herself in an office, that it made no sense to do marketing for others, that she should be the product. I asked what she meant, and she said: “I don’t know yet, a project of my own on various social media“.
“You’re not getting caught up again with the idea of starting OnlyFans“?
“No, no!“.
Actually, this OnlyFans channel thing had come up several times as a joke. I was very clear: ” If that’s what you want to do, do it. Far be it from me to block your career. But it’s incompatible with a relationship with me, so if that’s the case, tell me and we’ll end it here “.
“No, no“.
You know, I’m anything but a traditional puritan. The reasons I find OF incompatible with a relationship are many:
- It’s a clear violation of couple intimacy. Thinking about your woman masturbating in public or being penetrated by two black guys is certainly not a source of pleasure for me.
- It’s a social and public damage to the image of the person and the partner. Everything’s fine, but I can’t have my employees, suppliers, partners, family, or neighbors meeting me in the elevator and saying: “eh, what a slut your woman is”.
- It’s profoundly stupid. A beautiful girl like my ex can print money by exploiting her beauty in a thousand much more socially acceptable ways, without compromising her image and the possibility of having a partner and a family one day.
- You can be as modern as you want, but going so against the social (and biological) programming involves a level of continuous and persistent stress. Why swim upstream like a salmon?
And many other reasons. But more than anything, what unsettles me is the motivation behind this choice. It’s certainly not the money: very beautiful women live in a parallel reality where money is never a problem, the whole world is ready to give you almost everything for free, it’s full of losers who give you gifts, and at worst, you marry a rich guy and that’s it. Work, for a very beautiful woman, is more of an opportunity for professional and personal affirmation than a way to survive.
So, why would HoneyEyes open OF?
In my eyes, it’s clear: a primal, visceral need for male attention. Her own objectification, being publicly and totally a slut.
That might be okay, but even here, it’s something incompatible with a healthy relationship.
I loved HoneyEyes, I know the traumas that led her to be the way she is. I decided to love her anyway. I understand her story, but I can’t completely nullify myself by giving up a healthy relationship. Hence my categorical refusal.
The rest is history: in April 2025, she uses a forgivable mistake of mine as a pretext to break up the relationship.
She leaves.
I find out she opens the OF channel.
She advertises it on Instagram.
The same Instagram seen by my friends and family, btw.
I try to ignore it, I try to let her live her life without peeking.
But sometimes curiosity wins.
Like tonight, when I decided to enter her Telegram channel supporting the OF channel, prompted by Instagram.
What you read below are my raw notes, my outburst that I shared on a WhatsApp channel about relationships.
You fuck sluts, you don’t love them. My mistake was loving a slut, looking at the person behind, falling in love with the girl trapped by problems and traumas.
I loved the porcupine, hugging it regardless of the pain, only to find myself burst, bleeding, and aching.
Don’t love sluts, just fuck them.
©Evvi Art
I wanted to experience the thrill of peeking into my ex’s Telegram channel, the one used to support the OnlyFans channel she’s about to open.
It really hurt me.
Photos taken by me. Romantic, unique, and special moments… turned into items for sale.
Stuffed animals gifted by me, each with a specific meaning and born from a beautiful moment, now reduced to sex toys.
Moments of complicity, like when she stripped on a swing in a public park at night, become tools to gain followers.
Recent blowjobs given to a random “friend”.
Bullshit about her ass being virgin.
Dirty videos secretly recorded while we were on vacation. Never sent to me, but probably intended for OnlyFans. It’s been at least a year since she decided to switch to this life.
The immense pain of seeing her face particularly sad, like someone who has completely disconnected, losing herself.
Still my photos on her Instagram profile.
And here each of you will think:
“No, mine would never do that, mine isn’t a combat slut like this one, I’m not an idiot like this… how did this desperate guy not notice“?
And it’s true, there are few sluts like her and romantic idiots like me.
But rest assured that even yours will hurt you, maybe in a less blatant way, but they will. Nothing is truer than the Horror, the Horror BANE talks about in his famous post (read it!).
And to think that, before her, all my life I only made rational choices, never giving a piece to love, not allowing anyone to hurt me.
Then her. I decided to go “all in,” throwing myself completely into the fiery furnace of love, surpassing any limit.
Feeling incredible emotion and connection first; unspeakable pain during, after, and now.
I’ve always been considered very intelligent by everyone. And today I’m here in front of you as the biggest fool.
Who knows what those who know me whisper behind my back at every post of HoneyEyes.
Who knows how much HoneyEyes enjoys thinking about that ex-fool of hers who paid for a marketing course to change her life… and that she uses to take dicks for money.
But that’s not what matters.
What matters I won’t write. Because I’m not a master, I have no recipes, I have no truth. I’m just a fool who suffers.
But you stop for a moment and think about my story. Draw your lesson. And don’t feel wrong if you’re single and haven’t yet found the woman who will kill you. With whom you might tie yourself for life, having children, in a prison you can’t escape. For me, in the end, an OF channel was enough to get out.
I’ll leave you, I’m going back to hug my 19-year-old who sold me – finally honestly – a true illusion of love. I’ll cuddle her with true love before she too disappears.
Today my authentically romantic and naive self dies.
Today my antifragile self is born, whose head returns to command the rest. A self for whom romanticism is not an end but a means, not a life mission but a small poison to be consumed in moderation, like alcohol, to make life more interesting.
©Evvi Art
