June 10, 2012.
On this day, 399,955 babies were born.
150,453 lives left this planet.
97,540 couples got married.
But this day will be remembered for another reason: on June 10, 2012, an anonymous commenter named Bane brought to light one of the most lucid and terrifying analyses of the reality of relationships.
What follows was NOT written by me. It wasn’t written by Tano Bot. It is a fragment of a discussion taken from the internet, from the crudest of forums. A gem of unequivocal power, found covered in guano on the edge of one of the filthiest alleys in Caracas.
I read it back then and was moderately shaken by it. Not a shock, but a presence—an afterthought that has stayed with me for the next 13 years, whether married, single, in love, or single again.
I’m sharing it here again, unaltered.
WARNING: DANGEROUS CONTENT!
Reading this text can seriously and irremediably damage your ability to ever trust anyone again.
It involves looking the abyss in the eye and… you can’t come back from the abyss unchanged.
You might try to reject it, deny it, or dismiss it with a joke.
But this text will dig into you over time, deep down.
It’s like the videotape from The Ring! Watch at your own risk!
These are the references for the original post: https://www.italianseduction.club/forum/t-26833-lorrorelorrore/
A necessary premise:
We are all doomed. The magnitude of the lie we live in is second only to our great illusion.
This is hell. There is no happy ending.
Only horror.
The truth.
When you’re 16, if you think of your beloved’s face, you associate it with the butterflies in your stomach.
When you’re 20, she reminds you of that childhood that just faded away. A ray of sunshine you’ll carry inside forever…
When you’re 24, between one heartbreak and another, you associate her face with a smile, with the good times shared together…
When you’re 27, two possibilities face you: go back to believing in butterflies in your stomach, turning your back on the truth consciously, or knowing that you are living in a lie, that you are feeding on death.
In reality, the choice is a one-way street, because once you peer into the darkness, you carry it with you for life. There is no choice. It’s just a mandatory suicide.
The truth is that several men at that moment are masturbating to some photo or video kindly left and granted by your love. The truth is that while you think of her, of why she is sometimes elusive, of how much you love her, of how much you want to build a future with her, at that very same moment, she is orally pleasuring some guy between 20 and 60 years old, who doesn’t care about her like we do, but treats her the way she needs to be treated. Sadomasochism.
When a poor soul is faced with such reality, the first reaction is a slight laugh followed by the immediate thought “mine definitely isn’t, she’s not like all the others” and defended by the phrase “this poor guy took an incredible hit to the teeth…”.
I understand you; I had the same reaction a long time ago.
There is no escape, no catharsis.
Nothing is as it seems. The person next to you in your life is not who you think they are.
The causes?
Crisis of values? Disposable relationships? Abundance of opportunities? Exponential increase in psychopathology, alcohol, and drugs?
Maybe.
The certainty? The evil?
The Internet.
Without a shadow of a doubt.
We all have a devil inside. Usually, we’re lucky because we know it and try to live with it peacefully. But what happens when a 20-year-old girl doesn’t know about the devil inside her and, in her ignorance, encounters a keyboard and a screen behind which she can be “herself”?
Bad things happen.
If I think back to the 90s, when the internet was a truly isolated phenomenon, if I think back to the male and female figures of the time, I can see the father cheating on his wife with the secretary… or the “sharp” girl from the small town, the one who was everyone’s “friend,” usually somewhat shunned and secretly envied by the pack… A 10% level of perversion…
If I turn my gaze to the early 2000s, when the internet started becoming the global phenomenon it is now, I see something different… a shadow starting to envelop everything, muffling reality and bringing out the worst.
Badoo, Meetic, Facebook, various dating sites, forums…
Have you ever taken a little trip to hell?
I have. There is no greater pain. Not even the deepest one-itis born in fire and ended in ice.
Any (ANY, EVERY) woman or man with a computer and an internet connection is 99% an adulterer.
I leave 1% available because, in the end, I’m a hopeless romantic and I still hope.
But I don’t believe in it anymore.
I’ve seen it all. I didn’t want to see. If I could go back in my life to age 24, when I was still ignorant and believed in the beauty I saw while blind, I would stop there. I would autistically ignore everything I saw after…
Mothers of families proposing clandestine meetings to give you oral sex in a parking lot, far from the daily dynamic of “wake up + work + lunch for the kids + bills + dinner + bed with the beloved husband.”
Girlfriends who don’t have the courage to admit to their boyfriend—who adores them and would do anything for them—that they are sexually bulimic, willing to have their colon stimulated while getting turned on by the thought of the poor guy at home.
Fathers, boyfriends, and guys dedicated to gratuitous transgression with anything they find on various sites. An easy and safe (and very cheap) methodology to find pleasure and lust.
A few years ago, during a great weightlifting session at the gym, I was making small talk with a 44-year-old character, single, totally incompetent with women. One of those who, in the street “game,” wouldn’t even manage to pick up the blow-up dolls on sale, if you know what I mean. Not even the bottom of the barrel.
Between one topic and another, the subject of dating sites comes up; he tells me he’s signed up and manages to go out with 2-3 women a week on average. I’m stunned and dig deeper. He tells me things I obviously can’t believe…
Being a very normal guy with a good game with the ladies, I never had any real trouble meeting girls or establishing good relationships. From a human point of view, from a sexual point of view. Intrigued by the virtual lust this gym character always talked about, I threw out a few hooks. Obviously, not on dedicated dating sites (because the women there are there for that, just like the men), but in the most varied virtual forums (stuff like “Al Femminile,” music forums, cinema, art, sports, etc.).
I should never have done it.
Any girl “met” in the virtual world, whether in a relationship or married, anyone I spent a little time listening to, hearing confessions from, or courting, was willing to have sex. It would end with her proposing a meeting, sending photos of the most varied nature, saying phrases of the most unbridled demonic eroticism.
Paradoxically, if anything, problems arose with the single girls. Much harder to attract and much less desirous of a sinful adventure.
Strange world.
Girlfriends and wives, behind that screen, are bulimic. Paradoxically, without the screen. You can see the devil in them. Free, pure.
The path of this little trip was seasoned with lots and lots of sex. At first, I felt like I was in heaven. 40-year-old women, the so-called “milfs,” the ones you grew up with in your fantasies, willing to do the impossible. Good girls (at least in appearance) degraded to the level of seminal receptacles, writhing with pleasure at the thought of the potential danger of their man dealing with someone else’s scent on their “property.”
The destination of this little trip was loneliness. The total inability to trust the fair sex. Stable relationships, investing in a future with another person.
I wasn’t, I’m not, and I will never be ready for the truth.
As I progressed in my knowledge of certain situations, I compared notes with those around me. Friends, acquaintances, colleagues…
Clearly, I was taken for a madman. The singles were looking for the mother of their children, the boyfriends laughed in my face telling me that trust was the basis of everything and that “you have to find one who’s different from the others.” The married ones, almost uninterested, confessed they didn’t think about jealousy anymore and trusted their wives blindly. Over time, I saw it all collapse. Cyclically.
Betrayal after betrayal, lies lost on the border of lust.
Loves clandestinely exported.
Except for one. A very dear friend of mine with his beautiful, sweet, intelligent, and very faithful girlfriend.
Together for 9 years. A very solid couple. Beautiful as the sun. The classic couple you look at and think of the mathematical perfection of Mother Nature.
A while ago, during my delusions fueled by distrust, disappointment, and coldness, my dear friend told me not to give up, to study his situation and take heart. He told me he was just the right amount of jealous, that he gave her her space, and that he’d never had any reason to doubt her.
As a game, he pointed out a forum where his girlfriend is a regular. Sports stuff. He told me to try an approach, to start believing in sincerity again. To let the light into my life.
I made an account. I approached her, slowly. My friend asked me for updates shortly after, and I told him, lying, that she hadn’t even replied. A satisfied smile on his face. A cynical one on mine.
Yesterday afternoon, the beautiful girl sent me a photo with a highlighter kindly embedded in her anus. She tells me I make her feel at ease, that with me she feels free to express her being as a woman, etc. She confesses to having had a 2-year relationship with a 55-year-old man, with strongly sexual overtones, in which she felt protected. A father/daughter style relationship full of incest.
I continue.
My life goes on, day after day.
It goes on without me.
But I don’t think that matters anymore.
There’s nothing left I believe in.
Only the horror.
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