As I approached 23, I became a serial cheat. The more times Eva forgave me, or simply ignored or denied what was happening in the second half of my 22nd year, the worse I became. A normal person, a person properly connected with both their emotions and the feelings of others would probably have appreciated and been grateful for the vast array of second chances offered to them so freely, and modified their behaviour to reflect their absolute gratitude...
But I was a man who was controlled by many things, and not one of them was interested in seeing me act in a reasonable, empathetic, appreciative way towards my then girlfriend. First and foremost, I was influenced greatly by my animalistic lust and desire to sleep with different women at as many opportunities as it was possible to fit into the day. There were an alarmingly small amount of women between the ages of 20 and about 40 that I would have turned down in those days, had they offered. And quite often, they did offer, and I never once turned them down.
But no matter how much I got what I wanted, it wasn't enough. It would never be enough to satisfy my appetite, because every time the quantity of my amorous encounters expanded, the outer limits of my desire shot outwards, too- expanding away from it. Like ripples on a pond, my desire and the limits of my desire grew outwards together, at equal pacing... and so were never in contact with each other. No matter how much my desire fulfilled its wishes, it was always chasing the limits. This realisation that I would always be hungry for more led to built-up frustration.
Then, there was my one chemical addiction- alcohol. My loyal social companion, who would never miss a night out with me, EVER... who would go with me to every club and bar across the night... who would help me to dance without caring who I bumped into, to sing the wrong words to songs that weren't playing, to talk philosophically but incomprehensibly to women, to fight with men, to hug bouncers, to grind with unknown women, to help me ignore that I had a girlfriend, to return kisses from women in the middle of the dance floor, to explain drunkenly to taxi drivers how to get to my house as I sat in the back seat with this new and tipsy woman leaning into me, kissing my face and stroking my hair, and who helped me to hang up on Eva who was calling my cellphone every 10 seconds...
The truth is, I was acting in this way largely because I was afraid. As I mentioned before, I feared having a boring life- I was scared I wasn't "living life to the fullest". I didn't really know what that phrase truly meant back then, but I assumed that it had something to do with acting in whatever way struck me at the time. I was wrong, but back then, especially with no sufficient guidance to correct me, I was a long way from seeing the truth.
So in my ignorance, I bought into two lies. The first one was that doing whatever I wanted, irrelevant of the consequences to myself and others, WAS freedom, and WAS truly living. Therefore, whenever I managed to obtain my desire- which, at the time, was usually being with a particular woman, but also included travelling to specific places, or having certain experiences- then I would congratulate myself at having made the most of my life. It sounds strange to say, but my entire life revolved around ME- around what I wanted to get, to have, to achieve, to be, to do, to experience.The second lie that I believed was that this "do what you like, whenever you like" behavior would bring a long-term, durable happiness. I don't know where this lie came from- I was certainly never told it directly. I simply assumed that it was true. I looked at others around me, and I tried to imitate them. I looked at what made THEM happy, and I experimented to see if it would have the same effect on ME. In a way, you could say that I was just scrambling through the darkness of a cave, trying to hold onto whatever boulders my hands came across in order to keep myself stable and going forwards. There was no light to guide me- I was just guessing, really... improvising, but certainly far from stable ground... Good experiences came... and went... and then they were behind me, and I was back to scrambling. The same with women... soon, they were gone into a far, dark and unknown distance behind me, and I was basically back to square one. This type of living was far from long-lasting.
Fear was playing me like a fiddle. As always, he was underneath it all. His presence could be felt with every one of my actions. Whenever I'd explode at Eva in fury at something she'd said about me, it was because I was scared that she was right. When I'd rage at her for some way that she'd irritated me, it was because I was afraid I wouldn't get my own way. When I'd shout at her for ignoring me, it was because I was afraid I was losing her... When I'd stay late at work when I could have been at home with her, it was because I was scared of damaging my position with the management if I didn't. When I traveled without really consulting her, and when I slept with other women behind her back, it was because I feared missing opportunities in my life. If there were a painting of every awful thing I ever did back then, then you can be sure that the artist would have painted Fear subtly in the background. Barely noticeable, behind all the raging and chaos of the foreground, he would be at the back, smiling slyly to himself. Almost unseen, in a corner of a room with intertwined and naked bodies holding each other, Fear's face would be able to be seen, barely concealed by shadow... watching.
But Fear was never done looking for new ways to get to me. So, he decided to go where he knew I spent a huge chunk of my free time: online.
---
A useful tool in the hands of one person can become a very different thing in the hands of another. A crafting knife in the hands of a skilled and trained craftsman can help them to create a beautiful piece of workmanship. In the wrong hands, though, it can be used as a deadly weapon.
The tool itself isn't bad- it's not the tool's fault that someone has decided to abuse it's functions and use it far from it's original intentions.
And the same can be said of the Internet. In my case, the main problem was with facebook.
I read the following quote on the wall at work, ironically, during the same period described in this chapter. I don't know where it came from, or who posted it there, but it's stuck with me ever since:
"There are two ways to guarantee you'll destroy your happiness: 1) by living in the past, and 2) by comparing yourself to others".
The problem, or problems, I had with facebook, I realise now, were that it was causing me to do exactly these two things. For some, those who never had to suffer through a social-media addiction, again it may seem a trivial thing. I wish I could have been one of these people who used facebook casually, nonchalantly, and who didn't allow its content to seriously affect my moods...
But I was so lost back then. I was so spiritually unaware, I couldn't identify the warning signs of addiction. Day after day, I would log on- a couple more times every day- just to see what people I hadn't spoken to in months, or even years, had posted...
...I would find myself in quiet jealousy as I saw photos of people I knew, people I still hung round with, which didn't contain me. It was a classic case of narcissism that I felt like I should have a dominating presence on this online platform......Scrolling down, I would see men I knew in photos with women I liked, both smiling happily back at the camera, in some form of drunken embrace... and I would ask myself, "Why HIM and not ME?"...
...I would see a photo, maybe of Francesca with a man who might or might not have been a new boyfriend, or of Carla on holiday somewhere on a deserted beach, smiling sweetly, or of Karen at the club the night before- at the same club I'd been at, and at the same time... and I couldn't find it in me to be happy for them, to accept that they'd already started moving on with their lives... I didn't want that for them.
For me, facebook wasn't a casual medium by which to keep up to date with old friends. It was, instead, a daily display of my past failures, of the women I'd let slip away, of the friends who were clearly enjoying their lives too much to get in touch with me. It was the place where people like me, but who WEREN'T me, could torture me with photos of the exciting places they were visiting and videos of the things they were doing. No matter what it was, I simply wasn't capable of being happy for any of them.
And yet, despite the fact that it made me miserable to scour facebook a number of times every day... I couldn't stop myself. I am therefore convinced of the reality of "social media addiction". After all, ANYTHING can be an addiction- whether its part of a healthy lifestyle or an addiction depends entirely on where you prioritise it. If it's placed too highly on your priority list, far above it's intended location, then its at least on the way to becoming an addiction.
For some people, that's alcohol.
For others, its spending.
For some, its their looks.
For me, at this and other times in my life, it was social media.
The majority of my negative emotions would get the chance to torment me while I was hopelessly clicking on profiles, reading comments, and looking at photos of people I hadn't seen in years, and yet who I didn't wish well. Fear played his usual hand of making me believe that others were having a better time than me, and that I was wasting my life. Lust only wanted to look at the photos of the women I'd slept with, and make me remorseful that I would only ever see them again on that digital platform. Jealousy and Anger teamed up together and sent me to the pages of the women I WANTED to be with, and showed me all the contact they had with other men I knew...
"Why DOES Jeremy get SO many women...?", I would hear Jealousy ask me from over my shoulder, as I sat there looking at a picture of Jeremy with a local in each arm, all three smiling broadly back at the camera. "I mean..." he'd continue, full of malice, "RYAN I can understand- he's been here longer, plus he's tall, good-looking and cool. But THIS GUY?!"- Jealousy pointed fiercely at the screen- "He's only been here for a month- he's ugly and sweaty... but he's STILL already chatting up women you've never even been CLOSE to talking to. What's up with THAT...?", he smirked at me, knowing that he was getting to me...
I sighed, and typed in Francesca's name. As soon as her profile showed up, I clicked on it, and sat there, skimming her recent photos.
"Now THERE was a woman who knew how to get you going...". Jealousy had been replaced by Lust, who's soft, soothing feminine voice I could hear as clearly as if I had felt her sweet, vanilla breath on the back of my neck and ear with every word. I tried to ignore her, but I couldn't deny that I still thought about Francesca a lot, months after having last seen her in person. Looking at her beach and party photos certainly wasn't helping me get over her. But then, I didn't expect them to. Nor did I even want them to. "You could still run back to her, you know...?"; Lust had come closer, and whispered seductively in my ear, smiling behind my back, and with her eyes on the screen with mine, looking at Francesca. "Just tell Eva it's not working out, and go back..."...
I thought about Eva. Quickly, before I changed my mind, I wrote her name, and clicked on her profile...
It was the same as it had been when I'd last checked it a few days earlier. Eva was pretty- really, VERY pretty, actually, and she'd used her beauty to do some amateur modelling. Her secret was that she knew how to smile- that's what put her above other girls. She was not only beautiful- she also had a way of presenting her beauty that was appealing, without wandering into the areas of overly sexual, or demeaning. Other women felt that the only way they could get men to pay attention to them was by flashing as much skin as necessary while often presenting a confrontational, aggressive look on their faces. Eva, with her sweet, natural smile which she rarely went out without wearing, combined with her young and attractive appearance, made her a logical choice for amateur photographers to practice their skills on...
"You can look at her anytime...", Lust sharply interrupted my thoughts, as she directed me to look at the pages of some of Eva's friends.
"Oooooh, she's pretty...!", said Lust playfully, dropping her whisper for more of a girlish squeal...
We were looking at Selena's profile. Selena was one of Eva's friends, although I never saw them hang out together. Still, I remembered meeting her, a couple of weeks back...
"Hey, Selena!", I'd said, in an unusually cheerful mood one day after class.
By that time, around August of 2010, I had been told by my boss Tim that I'd be starting a new position in January of the next year, and that I'd need a few months training beforehand. This involved student-teacher observation and evaluation. A 12-person class from a regular full-time teacher would be handed over to a student teacher, for a week, and I would go in and watch them teach, and critique them afterwards. Selena had been one of the 12 in one of the classes I'd been observing. Like Eva, she was 21 at the time. I'd noticed how attractive she was during the first class, and had struggled to stay focused on my evaluation work throughout...
She had been standing at the coffee bar at the school that bright mid-morning, having finished the class that we'd both attended- her as a student, me as a teacher trainer. She'd smiled sweetly, saying "Hello!" as I'd passed by her smiling, and maintaining eye-contact, but had quickly looked away, blushing and trying to hide her smile...
"Yeah, she likes you...!", Lust said, with her eyes closed and biting her lip. Slowly, seductively, she opened her eyes and, looking at me through her eyebrows, softly asked me;
"Do you want me to try and get her for you?"
I looked at the facebook page, at the photo I was on of her hair in a ponytail, poking out from behind her head. Her square glasses made her look more sophisticated, and she had a sweet smile that showed a good amount of her teeth. She was pretty, and it wasn't unimaginable that she would like me. I had been surprised before- Carla, Karen, Eva and Francesca had all been women I had assumed were out of my league, and yet had seen SOMETHING in me they'd like. Why not Selena?
Lust suddenly lost patience with my lack of an answer.
"Let's stop lying to ourselves, here", she said cooly, but firmly. "If you get the chance, you'll sleep with her- no doubt about it".
I was about to deny it, but Lust seemed so sure of herself. I, too, was sure that she was right. I stayed silent, and just stared at the photo on the screen...
Lust smiled to herself. Stroking the underside of my chin, she gazed into my eyes fixed on the screen, and smiled softly, dreamily. She chuckled sweetly to herself as she remembered how much power she had over me, and she stated leisurely, "So, I'll set it up, and you just do what you've got to do..."
I still didn't say anything. I clicked through Selena's photos, and I wished she hadn't been so attractive. I didn't wish that I could resist her. I wanted HER to change, not me. But she wasn't changing- she was still very pretty, and I was still dominated by my desire to have her...
"I'll resist...", I thought, but didn't believe in the slightest...
---
It was cold, that next morning when I woke up with a jolting start. The jolt rattled my chains angrily, and took a few seconds to calm down into morning quiet again. The air chilled me to the bone as soon as I awoke, and almost as soon as I realised that the cold was striking deep into my very marrow, my captor's face was radiating from the inner most part of my brain. Her hazel eyes, which hinted at mischief and trouble. I smiled, showing my teeth. Her delicate features, close to my face. Still smiling, I closed my eyes. Her full, red lips on mine. Her strength of will and passion in her kiss. Her curves. I continued smiling more and more at them, and kept my eyes closed in that frigid cell, thinking how amazingly different this morning was to the previous morning. On the previous morning, I had just been a slave- a play-thing to be tortured for the amusement of a hooded and malevolent creature. But THIS morning, I was giddy, drunk on the feelings that jumped around and sang within me about this enticing, sensual, young woman.
Had I known that this would be the way I'd wake up every single day for the next few years, I wouldn't have been so welcoming to it...
As the sun's rays moved from a dull orange to a glaring light which warmed the room in the early hours of daylight, I didn't resist my captor entering my mind. She was there, in my head, and I spent the whole morning thinking about her. I repeated our encounter over and over again in my head, trying to remember details, and filling in gaps whenever they arose. As midday approached, I waited expectantly for her to return to me...
... by mid-afternoon, I had been waiting for hours, with still absolutely no sign or sound of my captor coming to visit me. It was a strange realisation- that I was willing for the one who had me chained and bound in that awful place to join me there, especially considering how much I had feared and resented visits from my captor previously...
"But", I reasoned with myself, "...that was BEFORE I knew she was hot!". My superficial argument surprised even me; was my attraction to this woman really more significant than the way she was treating me? I wanted to believe then that I wasn't that shallow, and I shook my head violently, to the point where my chains rattled, in order to rid myself of such a disturbing thought. And yet, as soon as the image of her seeped back into my mind, I found myself unable to convince myself that she was bad for me.
"She has you captured...", my reason and logic began, "...and has been torturing you for years, with no explanation or reasoning". I suddenly thought back to the circle of trees in the woods, to the moment of my capture... but decided not to delve into that just yet, and to allow my train of thought to continue...
"She's intentionally hurting you. She does NOT care for you, despite..." - I thought about our kiss - "...what she might do for you"- I finished the thought flatly. I knew this to be true- I knew that her revelation and our kiss the previous day was part of her manipulation of me. It was no less of a way to torture me than any of the beatings she had inflicted on me previously... except for the fact that it was a way to get me to crave her presence...
I thought about our kiss, and recognised how my desire to repeat it was dragging me towards an unnatural attraction to a woman who was so callous, harsh and outright terrible towards me. As the light began to fade, and evening drew near, I felt within me a horrifying realisation that my physical attraction to this woman, the lust I felt for her, was more powerful than the idea that I deserved to be treated with a certain level of respect and dignity. I had spent the whole day thinking about her, wanting her... and when I looked back on that first day, I realised it had been a day of wasted effort and unfulfilled desires.
I sighed loudly to myself as the last of the sunlight evaporated from the room, succumbing to darkness. I closed my eyes, drowsy and concerned for what this all meant, where it was all leading. I remember hoping that I would wake up and I would feel differently- that these feelings for my captor would pass, that they would fade. "Time is a great healer, after all!", I remember trying to cheer myself up as I felt the beginnings of sleep...
"...a great healer..."...
---
The sun was blazing as I creaked my eyes open, and my first thought was of my captor's kiss. I sighed again, quietly this time, frustrated, and uttered "DAMN it...!" to myself as I tried to shake her from my head. It was no good- she withstood the turbulence, and her hazel eyes just looked sweetly back at me from inside my brain. Those full, red lips, smiling...
"Why is it such a bad thing that you like her?", I heard Lust ask me. "She's attractive- what's the problem?". She asked it casually, with a condescending undertone, as if hers was the logical viewpoint. But even then, even as I felt myself falling under my captor's spell, I knew better. I sensed that I was worth more- that I deserved more...
As I was trying to remind myself of that fact suddenly, out of nowhere, for the first time ever, that morning I felt my sense of self-worth take a fearsome knock. It received a hit the ferociousness of which it had never known before- and it took me by surprise. The idea that I wanted this woman who was also my torturer sent me stumbling a pace backwards, a hint of fear on my face at the ferocity of it...
"What was THAT..?", I asked myself in an unambiguously anxious tone...
"I wonder if she thinks about me..."... From nowhere the ambush had begun. It was quick and stealthy and well-rehearsed, and I could only watch in horror as I realised I had left my mind exposed. I felt the lone thought force its way onto the podium of my mind, where all the most important musings got to take centre stage, and finish the question... "...like I think about her...?".
Before I knew what had happened, it was already too late. It had been said- that one thought had been planted deep within my psyche, and had started to grow immediately. It was already spreading, like a dye throughout my thoughts...
...She had seen my weakness, and disguised herself in a Trojan Horse that she knew I would gladly accept...
...she had breached my mental defences, and had gained entry inside...
...from the middle of my entire mind, she had grabbed control, and her influence was already spreading far beyond anything I could do to regain it. It would have been like shutting the gate after the horse had bolted.
I wasn't prepared for this. I hadn't been trained to defend myself from such psychological warfare. But it was too late for defencive strategies now. My captor had breached my last line of defence with relative ease.
From now on, my mind was her domain.
