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From: Marianne Writes <marianne_writes@yahoo.com>
X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Thu, 22 May 2003 20:18:35 -0700 (PDT)
Subject: {ASSM} Marianne, Part 3
Date: Fri, 23 May 2003 07:10:07 -0400
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It's been so long since I sat down to work on this series, that I
can hardly remember where I left off.  It's pretty hard to write
about; my experiences with David changed me so much as a person,
and none of it for the better.  I did things I never would have
done for anyone else; put up with lies that other guys I'd dated
would never have dared to try with me.  All because I loved
him... at least who I thought he was.  But that was a lie too.
You should probably read parts 1 and 2 to get up to speed.

 

-Marianne_Writes

 

After a while, his Vivian persona got a little tired.  I think it
had a lot to do with the fact that "she" was female, and being
that I'm strictly straight, it didn't really allow flexibility
for us to take this net flirtation to the next level.  So then
came Gregory... and this is where it got weird- not that it
wasn't already sickeningly weird at this point.  Before I read
David's story, I was a once in a blue moon erotica reader, but
afterwards, I read at least several times a day, always hoping
that I'd find another story about me... I guess since he never
had the respect to say how he felt about me in real life at the
time, I took the stories to heart, and believed against hope that
he wouldn't spend so much time writing about me unless I really
mattered in some way.)  Anyway, one morning, I awoke to one of
the most beautiful romance stories that I'd read in a while. 
Through the Vivian phase, David and company (no one person could
write THAT much, so I realized along the line that he must have
had some help) had taken to writing BDSM stories about me...of
course I was always the sub/masochist.  At the time, I wasn't
sure what had given him that impression about me, but in
retrospect, looking at what I took from him over time, I realize
that I was a masochist.  Even if I'd never been one until then,
my love for this man made me see right past his flaws...I put up
with such horrible things from him, that there's no way I could
have come across as anything but a masochist.  I ended up
becoming intrigued by the stories however, and did learn about
the lifestyle...I still have some interest--one of the less
damaging things I've brought away from my time with Dave.  

 

Anyway, there was this beautiful story that centered around a
character that seemed to be modeled on me...a woman with a rough
life who fell for a guy from work who treated her the way she'd
always dreamt of--nicely, of course.  I wrote the author, telling
him how great the story was, knowing that it was Dave, and guess
what? This time, he was a little more forthcoming.  The
description of himself was the David I knew down to a T...right
down to his age being "a few shanked punts short of 40."  The
only difference was that he called himself Gregory...I could
understand that--he needed some level of anonymity, and I didn't
give my real name either, so why should he?  We talked even more
than I talked with Vivian... for hours at a time, about
everything, and we flirted mercilessly.  I know it seems strange
to a degree, but I felt safe sharing things about myself because
I knew that it was David.  I'd never been one for chatting on the
net with strangers, and the only reason I did so in this case was
because I knew who it was.  He was a tease about it, and never
admitted who he was, but he knew things about me that he could
never have known unless he knew me.  Things about my eyes, my
hair, my habit of blowing my hair out of my eyes...little things
like that.  It drove me up the wall that we couldn't just say to
hell with this stupid game and be together in real life, but I
guess when you see someone as nothing more than a game to be
played, her hopes and expectations don't really matter.

 

Long story short, a few months and about a hundred erotic stories
about me later, Gregory changed his story.  He said that
everything he'd told me about himself previously was a lie to
protect his identity...that he was older, married with kids (but
separated), and lived out West--and if that was okay with me.  I
was so used to Dave's quirks at this point, and had already
fallen so head over heels for him, that if he wanted to play this
stupid game, I'd play along.... And truth is, I knew so little
about the real David, that it was possible that he had a
separation with kids involved...I really had no clue, but felt
that if I wanted him, I'd have to stick by him--and I'd be there
for him when the separation was permanent.  It continued like
this for months more, and our "feelings" for each other never
seemed to wane.  As always, even though we'd never "met" as
Gregory and my alter ego, he still always reassured me with
tidbits from real life.  In real life, Dave and I still met
casually for the occasional fling, never mentioning our online
lives, but he'd always drop a hint...a phrase that we'd used
online or something, or an inside joke, like how "inappropriate"
something was or wasn't, to let me know that it was him...or if
we were chatting online, he'd say something verbatim that he'd
said during one of our steamy encounters in real life.  It was
him, and we both knew it.  

 

It wasn't all just sexual during this time.  Much of it seemed to
be genuine friendship to me.  David even helped me out
financially when I needed it, which as a broke co-ed meant fairly
often.  He promised to always be there to take care of me when I
needed him, and I took him for his word... big mistake, clearly.
So many nights that I've spent alone, crying myself to sleep
because of things he's said or done.  So many nights when I felt
like ending my life because I was so hurt that someone I cared so
deeply for would be so callous about my feelings.  As much as I
loved him, I grew to hate him almost just as intensely, for what
he put me through mentally and emotionally.  

 

Anyway, after almost a year of this insane asylum crap, we began
to talk of meeting.  My God, it was like heaven for me, thinking
that we'd finally meet face to face as two adults who cared for
each other.  I was so happy at the thought that maybe he really
did respect me...that he didn't see me as this naïve little girl
who was just a game to play during his downtime.  It meant so
much to me that we were taking this next step...that he would
finally take me out, spend time with me, be proud to be seen with
me in public, look me in the eyes and tell me face to face all of
the things he'd been saying for almost a year.   It's easy to say
things online...but actions speak louder than words; and I knew
that even though he was great to me when we kept things
"anonymous," that in real life, his actions spoke volumes about
his rejection of me.  Sex with him was never what he said it
would be; he always promised tenderness, and an honest display of
his desire...the way it was when he wrote for me.  In real life,
I got hurried thrusts, then a quick boot out of his apartment
door when he'd cum.  I'd always feel terrible, walking out the
door alone and back to my dreary life, where he'd be my internet
friend, but a user in real life...was he that ashamed to have me
as a part of his life, that he always felt that I had to be
hidden?  I could never reconcile the two, the acceptance and
desire for me in anonymity, but flat out rejection through any
other medium, and it hurt so much.  I've always believed that
actions speak louder than words, but I wanted soooo badly for
Dave to be the exception to that.  I hoped and wished so hard
that things would turn out the way he kept saying they would, but
they never did.

 

We set up a date to meet.  I was so excited; nervous, but
excited.  By now, I'd accepted the fact that his friends were
involved in this, and I figured that someone with his time
constraints needed some way to keep a handle on things; what good
friends they must be if he could trust them this way.  Anyway,
ironically, the night that we chose to meet was almost a year to
the day when I'd read the 1st story he wrote about me.  I was
excited all day, like a little girl, that he'd finally come and
sweep me off my feet the way he promised he would.  That he'd be
a part of my life, and we'd be able to see each other more.  I
just thought I'd finally get to be a part of his life in the way
he made me yearn to be through his stories and words.  I fretted
all day... when the time finally came I was ready to jump out of
my skin.  The way I felt when I was on my way to see him only
made the way I felt when I realized what was going on that much
more devastating.  There really was a "Gregory" waiting there for
me.  It was a complete stranger.  I was devastated.  I know that
it was David the entire time...he made sure that I knew in
indirect ways.  My heart dropped in a way that I can't even
explain.  All of the promises, all of the sweet words, and vows
of friendship.  It was all a lie... and even this Gregory
guy...even if part of my friendship was with him through David,
he was a liar too and just as repulsive to me as David was by
now.  I didn't know what to do.  Here was someone taking the
place of who I expected.  Someone completely unknown to me.  Just
imagine yearning after someone for an entire year...yearning to
smell them, to be in their arms, to be comforted by them when
you're distraught.  Imagine accepting financial gifts of help
from someone whom you trust; that's the sort of thing I never
do...I'd never taken money or any help from anyone in my
life...but I love and trusted Dave, and he was the only person
that I'd ever even wanted to help me.  I couldn't believe what
was happening.  All of the things we talked abo
ut doing this night...the potential for intimacy the way he'd
been promising all along.  I was disgusted.  Here was this total
stranger, who was pretending to be a friend of mine...this
stranger who I was now financially indebted to...I couldn't
believe that he even brought up the erotica I'd written in
response to him, and how hot it was...I felt violated almost--I'd
written those stories for David, not him!  Did this absolute
stranger think I was some sleaze who met men off the net, then
talked to them about my erotica?  My writing has always been very
private to me...I was so repulsed that he would even bring it up,
especially as we both knew that I'd showed up there to meet him
under false pretenses...I couldn't believe that Dave could do
this...my thoughts that night were murderous.  Of course, because
I wasn't interested in giving myself to Gregory, the money that
he'd given me was no longer a gift, but a loan to be paid back 
in full.   And to this day, they both deny knowing the
other...David reacted as though I were a nut case when I
confronted him angrily in real life...bastard.

 

This story is very strange, I know that...strange but true, and
another saga in my fucked up life.  I still don't know what the
point of all of it was.   I know that it was David all along; so
why did they do what they did? To hurt me? Maybe David passed me
along to the lonesome Gregory, thinking that a poor girl like me
wouldn't mind as long as I was getting financial help?  Maybe I
come across as hooker material...that would explain why he never
wanted to be with me in real life other than for quick, rough
sex. I don't know...but every time I think about it, I feel
physically ill.  We still email once in a while, but to me it's
more about my obligation to pay back the money that they helped
me with, more than anything; they could force me to pay now, when
I really don't have it, but at least they're giving me leeway
until I have some semblance of a career.  As long as they're
allowing me that leeway, the least I can do is be civil.   I
think that what tears me apart the most inside is how something
that for me started so purely could turn out to be so evil and
base...I simply loved David... I didn't care about money, looks,
how successful he was or wasn't.  He seemed bright and caring and
erotic and I wanted him in my life.  I loved him more than I ever
thought I could love a man, and he took advantage of that.  He
broke my heart and my spirit, and on top of that I owe him
thousands of dollars.  I guess I paid for the full masochist
treatment.

 

There's clearly not much that's erotic about this story, unless
you're a sadist.  I really did need to get this all out for my
own sanity though.  I don't know if there's much of a moral to
this story, other than never trust anyone, no matter who they
are.  This has been a purely selfish cathartic exercise...what
else can I say?  Thanks for reading.

 

-Marianne

 


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