You can be many different people at once online. Very tricky! I think I am smart. That is a dumb assumption. I should have assumed I did not know what I need to know. I should have guessed people would lie to me and trick me. I should have figured that my inability to understand people would extend to the clients I saw. But no, I didn’t do anything right when it came to meeting guys online who would post reviews. I was used to running into guys on the street who never compared notes. Years ago I was young and beautiful, no, really. I thought it was enough for me to be pretty. I did not concern myself with even showing interest in the guy bc I was busy planning how to spend my money. I was surprised to find that guys were human even when sexually aroused. I had relegated them to the level of rutting beasts with one track minds. It never, not even once, occurred to me that s guy wanted me to show interest, to act like I enjoyed his company and to not be so obviously happy when the date was over. I didn’t know they thought of me as human which gave me permission to do to them what I THOUGHT was being done to me. I was shocked yo find out I hurt someone’s feelings as I eagerly ushered him out the door and his review wasn’t terrible, but he was respected enough that damning with faint praise was a reality. His lukewarm review killed my business and I began a difficult journey of trying to understand people. I had liked prostitution bc I thought I would not endure my lifelong difficulty getting along with others since the real “me” wasn’t even there. How ironic I’d that?
I started changing my ways but there was this one reviewer who seemed to despise me with a depth of feeling too intense for the provider client relationship. Worse yet, his hatred was ongoing. I thought I knew who he was and I diligently avoided 702 area codes. I didn’t understand why he was lying, saying I was late, or I had cancelled. I double checked with every number I had. Nope, he was not among even incidental contacts. Luckily I had my supporters, even someone who made certain he posted my contact info for newbies to the discussion site where I advertised before I was banned another long story).
Maybe you guessed the truth. My enemy, Astro Youth, was the same person as my advocate, Little Blue. I’d been lied to, for years. I figured it out while texting my advocate about my plans for this blog, which was still just a motion. After encouraging exchanges all of a sudden I received a sarcastic text. “So the blog will be all about you. That’s your usual. I’m sure it’ll be as boring ad you are.” What?! I only received messages like this from–gasp! “YOU’RE ASTRO YOUTH!” I wrote, in all caps. I could practically feel the evil sneer in the response, “You knew it all along! That’s why you’ve been blowing up my phone.” Quickly I blocked the number and reviewed the online forum. There were many “discussions” that involved one guy taking extreme stereotypical characteristics to simulate spirited discussion from different points of view. There was the kindly older man schooling the youngsters on how to enjoy the hobby and keep it professional. There was the malcontent who hated all these b******. He threatened suicide, elaborated on sexual practices involving biological waste, and was extremely angry that I had a former client turned…I don’t know what to call it. And there was a third character’s screen name who used the same words as the other two screen names. And more importantly, the same phrases, verbatim, as the 10 year regular who introduced me to the advertising/discussion site. No way! This third personality tried hard to be deep. “I looked into her eyes, no I won’t call her a whore, and is that..? Yes! I see a glimmer of a… soul! Could she and me make ‘we’?” Scintillating writing like that wasn’t what gave him away. My proof was when all three screen names made reference to me as a brilliant conversationalist who missed her calling as a talk show hostess. That regular client had said this countless times. When I met him for dates he wanted my views on current events and he openly marvelled that someone in my profession and my color could be brilliant. He wasn’t racist, he said, he was speaking of sociological facts that made my existence such a raretiy.
For years I gave my enemy ammunition to use against me by dating the guy I wanted to avoid at all costs. I did not, and do not, really understand why he played the love hate role with me and why he couldn’t admit it. Six weeks ago he became the one and only client to confront me in public. I saw him on the edge of the business district and he loudly demanded to know how I could believe such lies about him. I was amazed that he didn’t truly believe in my ability to remember words. I knew what he had said. The homeless were delighted as I found myself defending my position until I saw the futility of reasoning with a compulsive liar. I now understand that people act out of motives I can’t even begin to guess.
When you read reviews remember this may be an accurate recounting or a symptom of psychosis. That’s true of reviews and nowadays, perhaps media coverage. For the first time in history anyone can speak publicly, anonymously, in unedited tracts without accounting for accuracy or motives. Even a group consensus may be a guy with an obsession. You. Can. Never. Truly. Know.
Donald Trump was right about fake news, even among “trustworthy” sources. How long have we been lied to? When I think that the person who showed me the online world thereby changing my financial landscape was actually hell-bent on destroying me, I am thoroughly disillusioned with what I think I see. Too bad that disillusionment is for the best.