Waste My Time

Halloooo my fellow people on the interwebs.

I know it has been a while, but life has sorta gotten away from me. School has been crazy, home has been insane, and I have some serious shit going on, life changes that need implimentation and discussing… uh oh spaghetti-o

A little under a year ago, I think it was about 10 months – idk I’m not a math person – I started talking to this dude – Let’s call him Chase R.

Unlike the only 2 other names I will mention in this post, this name is a pseudonym and will remain as such.

Let me warn you now this is not my usual chipper full of puns type of post. Things are likely to get a little heavy and long.

So, the name Chase seems like the most fitting name because it is close enough to his real name andddd it works because he was always chasing some sort of fantasy and he suffers from severe delusions of grandeur.

For those of you who know his real name, I ask that you please keep it to yourself. This is not some revenge or smear piece, and I’m not out to ruin his life. I’m updating you all on what’s been going on, casually spilling some tea and sending a warning to the people that need it on how to maybe avoid my current situation.

While, he and I are no longer involved, I have my reasons – reasons you will find out about towards the end of this post – for protecting his identity.

He seemed pretty cool and like a decent person. He checked off all my boxes (at first)

  • He messaged me frequently but not too much that I wanted to throttle him (at first)
  • He said all the right things and made me feel great (at first)
  • He did wondrous things to my self-esteem (at first)
  • He made me feel special (at first)
  • He made me laugh
  • He made me feel safe (at first)
  • He made me feel wanted (at first)

I hope you are beginning to see a pattern. He made me feel things, he made me feel great but none of it lasted. Some might call him a master manipulator, other might say he is fake – they can both be right.

Plus, ya know he was smart – an engineer, a hardworker, and he looked pretty cute. I’m a sucker for a funny dude with killer smile and this little Cuban homeboy had one.

Funny guys are the most dangerous kind.

I was fluffing smitten…

So much so that I ignored the toxic traits and red flags he started presenting as time went on.

At first, he just seemed honest, admitting to me early on about some of his more questionable behavioral traits, he has/had some serious vices – I’m not quite sure that he’s given them up like he claims he has and that’s a shame because I’ve always thought he was a smart dude with a lot of potential. It’s just too bad that his vices and lies will lead him down a path that is bound to ruin him entirely (at no fault of anyone but himself).

So let me rewind a little bit….

Y’all know I haven’t dated anyone in a few years… not since Nick – Nick with the green eyes, weathered hands, beautiful tan Latin skin, sexy accent, torn up leather jacket, rumbling Aprilia – Italian bike (might have been what really caught me lol), and the sexiest mouth I had ever laid eyes on (nevermind – it was definitely this).

God, he did wonders with that mouth and those hands.

So, I hadn’t dated anyone since him and all with good reason. If I was any sort of damaged goods, it was Nick that made me that way.

Nick was a pretty shitty human being, despite what his otherworldly outer appearance might have suggested. Sure, he was great to his family and he made good money – enough to buy his cousin Carolina her first bike. (More on Carolina in a bit)

But Nick had a lot of fucking vices and one of those was smacking me around, but he was smart enough to never touch my face.

I was stupid, young and in love – such a gosh darn cliche – and I fully believed him everytime he said he would change.

He liked his life filled with rough sex, booze, drugs, and loud ass music. And for the most part, I was okay with that. He made me feel alive in a way I had never felt.

When you spend so much of your life sick – in and out of hospitals – and unable to enjoy the fun things you heard everyone gossip about, you live a little too hard and way too fast. You just want to live, experience, and feel.

Our relationship all came to a head one night when he got a bit too fucked up, he got a lot too rough and he hit me just a little too hard.

That night frequently hits me in equally vivid and muddled foggy flashbacks. If you have ever wondered about my insomnia, this is a contributing factor. And yup, I have been told I suffer from PTSD.

When he was done, he let his friend have a go.

He had done some nonconsensual and irreparable damage to my body and psyche.

After that night, my uterus was damaged, and he had LITERALLY torn my cervix apart.

But, like a fool – I never reported him. I was too scared, and way too fucking ashamed.

I spent so much time going to therapy, I never thought about the long end of what this abuse and rape had done to me.

Physically, I was recovering but mentally and emotionally I was a turbulent fucking mess.

They told me that having a child, while possible was not an easy task for me anymore, but I because I was young I didn’t think I would have to worry about it then.

There was talk about freezing my eggs to ensure viability should I want children in the future, but I was so stuck on how dirty I felt that I didn’t give much thought to my future. Kids were not something on my mind, the filth was.

I wanted to die. I was determined to die. And I made so many stupid choices I am suprised I didn’t die.

Nick left internal scars and external scars, some I still carry on my body and probably always will.

I couldn’t bear looking at myself. Sometimes, I still can’t.

It was a constant struggle and the choices I made during the healing process were not the best.

I have never said it out loud and if I’m honest I’m slightly ashamed to admit it, but these choices put me in more danger than he ever had.

Fast forward a few years to the fateful night in June when “Chase” entered the picture.

God, he was smooth. That miami boy attitude was dripping from his every word but he was a little awkward and I found that endearingly cute.

The first red flag was his falsified age. He later admitted to me that he was younger than what he had led me to believe but he wasn’t a minor thank god, so I let it slide.

He liked older women because he felt he could “communicate with them better given his life experience” – pulled directly from our initial conversations. I was nervous about the age difference but I figured what harm could it do, its not like I acted like your typical older woman – whatever the fuck that means. I was in no way stable or perfect. I worked part time and I was in school so what harm could it do?

Those very thoughts haunt me now because of the sheer stupidity of it all. Age is not a definer but it is a factor and sometimes you end up fucking with someone who has the maturity of a toddler. That was Chase. All his talk about maturity was just that, talk. He was a spoiled little boy trying to appear like a grown ass man and for the most part, he was pretty good at faking it, or I was pretty stupid for not catching on – again, they can both be right.

Then the sex started. It was good, I enjoyed myself, but it was nothing out of this world. He was young and although he claimed to have had multiple partners and boatload of experience, he just didn’t seem that… well, experienced. He was good with his hands and he had sexy bedroom eyes so again, I just let it go.

It is with some shame that I admit now to the one and only lie I ever told during our involvement. I told him confidently that he always made me cum but… I didn’t always cum, he just didn’t last long enough.

He was a fucking anamoly. How can someone turn you on so much everytime when you knew you’d probably have to finish yourself off in the end?

Plesase understand, he wasn’t a bad lover and I don’t think he was a selfish one. Again, I’m not out here trying to smear his name but it is what it is.

He turned me on like crazy but he just rarely finished me off. He always asked me if I came and while I would like to believe he cared about his partner’s needs, it could have also been just to stroke his own ego.

He was decent at foreplay and got me off prior to sex a few times, but rarely during actual sex. So when he would ask, I would respond with an enthusiastic yes because I just couldn’t bring myself to say something that would take that smile that I liked so much off his face. And in the process… I may have given him an ego boost he didn’t really need.

Although, if I’m being fair, he did express some insecurity and I did nonchalantly tell him once, not to feel bad that he couldn’t keep up with me.

But sometimes, even though I really enjoyed his company and don’t get it twisted I still enjoyed the sex… I preferred when we would sex via video call and clips because he lasted a little longer and I was guaranteed to get off. I was happy to hang out tho, because I just liked his company and the way he made me laugh.

But sex aside, he initally had all the makings of a good one. Most of these good qualities were overpowering his less savory ones.

One night in late September/early October after he went fishing with his friend, he called me to ask if I was free. While we were on a video call while he was on his way to pick me up, he asked me what I would say if he asked me to be his girlfriend and I internally freaked out.

He reminded me a little too much of my past, some of his vices were hitting too close to home. He had never physically hurt me but he was too much like Nick.

I could also tell he was under the influence of one of his vices and I didn’t want to be a decision he regretted in the morning so I told him I didn’t know.

I remember him telling me he thought of me constantly and asked if I was unsure because of the age difference. In the end I never got to answer because he chalked it up to the age difference and we never discussed it again.

I regretted saying no almost instantly, and I dwelled on it for a while – a long ass while. If I’m honest with myself, all the way to the very bitter end.

And then, like all good things, like cheesecake and pie – all good things must come to an end – he started to slack on all of the things I had initially liked about him.

I chalked the changes in him up to stress, his hectic work schedule, and his personal vices.

We still talked frequently, texting almost daily and talking on the phone but things were slowly changing. I tried to be supportive and be there for him. I never once judged him for his choices and simply asked that he stay safe.

How could I when I had made some even stupider mistakes and choices.

I really just wanted to see him succeed and be happy. I genuinely thought he was a good dude.

But, it turns out that not saying yes, as much as it bothered me, was one of my smartest moves because he was headed down a dark path and he spiraled shortly after.

And given where we stand now, it was probably for the best because our current situation would be all the worse if we had really been together in that respect.

It was on Christmas when everything really went south. We talked until the early hours of the morning. I helped him with something really important and he sweet talked me like he always did and called my by his name – that boy has a masters in pillow talk I swear.

We were supposed to go on a trip together in January, but within a few days, he had really hit rock bottom (or so he claims, who knows what was truth and lie at this point) and that never happened.

I sent him a message about it all, I told him how I felt and wished him well. I never expected a response, it was a goodbye. But, within days he responded and he apologized for his “crappy beavior” and promised to make it up to me.

But he never did.

All he did was lie to me to keep me around. He kept me hidden like a dirty secret (not the fun All American Rejects kind) his hidden shame.

This marked the start of all the broken promises and lies – at least the ones I could track.

At some point before the fall he was contacted by Carolina – Caro for short – on social media. Yes, this is the same Carolina fom before – Nick’s cousin. The details of how they became social media friends are sketchy at best but if I recall our converstion correctly, he said this was in October – he and I were still in a pretty good place at this time, talking almost daily (this is important info for later).

He was doing the streaming thing around this time and I was just being a caring and supportive friend at the time while juggling my 3 majors and my home life. I would tweet him out and share the stream. But that was about it, I’m pretty private about my dating/sex life so other than a select few no one really knew his name.

I don’t know what the inital communications intailed but shortly after they must have become social media friends.

I guess they taked frequently, I don’t really know how everything went down and at this point I don’t much care. *If you are assuming they hooked up – nope, just keep reading*

In early January I got my first message from Caro commenting on my poetry. At first, I didn’t know it was her because the picture was small and pretty blurry and her profile was private. I had no idea who she was until she said her full name. She wanted to catch up. Apparently she was still dating her girlfriend, who I had introducd her to while I was dating Nick. She didn’t bring up Nick and neither did I. As far as anyone was concerned, our relationship just ended. I had never told anyone but my doctors and the friend who picked me up that fateful post rape morning about what he had done to me. I didn’t want to talk about it, because it would just remind me of it all and that was stuff better left in the past.

She followed me on IG (I didn’t follow her, I was a little scared I would see a picture of Nick) but I didn’t think much of it and left it at that. After that inital conversation, we did not really talk again. She would comment on my IG stories but for the most part that was it.

At this point, he and I would talk sparingly. He missed me he would say and I would send him similar messages. He was trying to get his ife on track he would tell me, but when things got better he would take me to the beach, we would hang out, he would make it all up to me.

It was the early hours March 27th when I saw him last.

Thursday, March 27th was my father’s birthday

March 27th, the day before he would go out to the fair with someone else, lie about it being a group friend thing when I mentioned how I felt and he would make me feel like I was the problem.

I was “questioning him” and picking fights he would say – I had never done that with him before, so I took him at his word. I assumed he was being honest with me and the stress of grad school prep and my family were getting to me.

I fucking apologized to him because I thought I was at fault, I thought I was crazy for doubting him and how he “felt” about me.

It was March 27th when we last had physical sex with the lights on “because he wanted to see me” in the bed of his farmhouse room (there would be some pretty intense sex calls later so this wasn’t our last intimate moment).

March 27th, was the last time we cuddled and ironically the first time we actually held hands. It was the first time I had ever really felt connected to him. When I finally realized how far I had let him in. When I decided I could trust him. It was in this exact moment that I realized how much I really wanted to keep him around.

March 27th, when we watched a video about Dumbo on the S8 phone I had given/loaned him in November when we went to his favorite bar together and he introduced me to some of his friends, because he had broken his old one, all while cuddling naked in that same bed we had just had sex in. 

It was March 27th when he asked me what I was feeling in that exact moment while we cuddled together in that bed under the comforter of his cold ass room and held hands where my confession of “I think I want to keep you” was met with a “really”, a gentle hand squeeze and a kiss on my bare shoulder – its funny what you can remember when all you want to do is forget.

And it was March 27th that we conceived this child. The very one I’m absolutely terrified about.

The crazy part about this conception is, I’m on 2 different forms of birth control. Besides that, I have a messed-up uterus, I took Plan B that very afternoon after being prescribed antibiotics and I waited 4 days before taking those antibiotics because I knew they made birthcontrol less effective.

I had no plans of getting pregnant. Least of all with his child. I cared about him sure but I didn’t love him – maybe I could have one day but not at that moment.

In the next few days Carolina – Nick’s cousin – would make another appearance. She sped things up with the end of our involvement. And while I want nothing to do with her for maliciously hurting me and causing the loss of some of my clientele and funds, I am forever thankful that she opened my eyes to his assholery.

I just wish she had done it sooner to avoid the situation I currently find myself in.

Before he had pulled me deeper into his fucked orbit and I spiraled into his void.

It was the day after another one of our fights (a new and recent occurence – we never fought before this. I’m pretty laid back about things and when I’m not I can turn into a massive bitch which is a big flaw of mine so I try not to get worked up or angry) and the day after I went to one of the most life changing events for me, my HSI Pathways Fellowship Welcome Event.

I remember being so nervous and excited at the event that I had asked if I could see him soon. I was anxious and I new I was close to a really sad memorial date so I wanted to enjoy a little happiness with him. During that conversation we fought and he made me feel like crap for stressing him out. I spent the majority of that event feeling bummed out and looking at my phone wishing I could take that stupid fight back.

I messaged him early that following Saturday morning to apologize again – because well he really had me thinking I was at fault for all this drama happening between us. I told him that if we weren’t on the same page to let me know so that I could walk away.

The ball was in his court, he knew I liked him and wanted to see where this would go but I would walk away if it wasn’t mutual. He told me he didn’t want an ultimatium – which it wasn’t and then we left it at that.

I was at Walmart with my father buying groceries and cracking jokes when Carolina video called me on WhatsApp. She said a few things then told me to check the picture she just sent me – I’m starting to think I should have changed my number years ago – it was a screenshot of a conversation she had with him.

It  wasn’t a damning message to be honest all it mentioned was that he met the brother of the girl he liked the very same night we fought. But it was enough. I knew at that moment he had been lying to me about everything. I hung up on her mid sentence even though I heard her say something about Nick, and blocked her number.

I didn’t contact Chase. Like I said, that isn’t my style. I don’t like who I am when I’m mad. I tend to go for the jugular and I really didn’t want to be that girl. I hadn’t been her for a long while.

I never planned to contact him again. I wasn’t going to confront him, I wasn’t going to message him. It was over. I was going to delete him and everything to do with him when I got home. Unsend/Unsave any damning pictures or videos I had shared with him and get on with my life.

I didn’t realize I was crying until a random woman asked if I was ok while I stood lost in the bread isle.

I was not okay. I was hurting because someone I had trusted and let in after being closed off for years was lying to me.

Someone I cared about and went out of my way to be there for was making me feel like I was insane for feeling insecure about us.

Someone was using me for their own gratification, as if I was nothing.

But that wasn’t the end of it. Why would it be?

Carolina would take to IG to contact me via a picture I had posted of myself from the night before with an inspirational caption. She was starting to feel bad about what she had done. She wanted to tag him and let people know… what I don’t know.

But, no one really knew about us. I was a private person. And other than a few of his friends I don’t think many people on his side knew either.

Within an hour, while I was still out with my father he sent me a message about how angry he was as if I had no reason to be pissed.

Somehow I had become the villian of this story and Carolina was his scapegoat, a way to direct his anger and guilt on someone else. She was the reason he swears the girl he took to the fair, the one he lied to me about didn’t want him.

Because Carolina was tied to me, it became my fault. We became one and I was accused of orchestrating the whole thing. Who know what other conspiracy theories he has come up with. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was telling people all sorts of horrible things about me.

But the truth is, it wasn’t my fault and I never did a single negative thing to him. Even if the Carolina drama had made this girl hate him – which it hadn’t I’m sure and if that ever does happen it will be because of his own action. But mainly, because according to her, all she had ever wanted from him was friendship.

The only person that was really to blame in this whole ordeal was Chase himself.

He was to blame for lying about everything in the first place.

Carolina was/is a bitch. A petty woman who held a grudge concerning a situation she was never fully informed on but even with her false pretense of friendship with either of us, she was not the one who had fucked everything up, just like I wasn’t the one picking fights – Chase was. It took me a while to see that because my guilt for pulling him into my personal shit was too strong.

I felt horrible that any of my past had touched him because in the heat of the moment, for reasons I still can’t comprehend, I still felt like he was an innocent bystander. Every bad thought I ever had after Nick came rushing back and I was the stain that ruined the beautiful carpet.

Now after a lot of self reflection, I realize there was nothing innocent about him. And while he did get pulled into my past drama and his confidence was betrayed by Carolina, I had no control over that or what came from that. For once, I could really see that it wasn’t my fault. In part, I have the girl to thank for that because the conversation I would have with her in the following days would show me that. I didn’t do irreprable damage to him and his life like he would have me believe. I had absolutely nothing to do with it.

Once I could fully accept that and believe it I could see that he lost nothing, he was injured in no way – I was, and yet he still believes he was the vicitim.

It was my IG post that was used to make this drama unfold.

It was my job that was jeopordized because the drama would tarnish the name of companies I was working with.

It was my friends and family that would read about how I was played.

It was me who was lied to and hurt intentionally by 2 people I had allowed into my life.

He got to walk away still as shiny as a brand new fucking penny.

But, because he got caught lying, he trully believed he was the vicitim.

Like I said, she and I had a conversation, and it was enlightening at least it was to me.

I reached out to her after the fallout because she had been watching my IG stories and I was curious as to why.

A part of me wanted to hate her, but she had done nothing wrong so how could I. So I bravely and nervously introduced myself and offered to answer any questions she might have without talking shit because again, that wasn’t what I was after. I’m not sure what I was after but I guess I just wanted closure of some sort.

She ended up being a pretty cool person and I don’t in any way regret that conversation. She helped me see that I wasn’t the shitty person who had ruined his life as he would have me believe, but she informed me through her account, that he had basically lied about everything.

There was never a them and she never wanted or planned for there to be a them, it was all in his head and she was only looking to make new friends in a newish city. That was the last we spoke of him and our conversations since have been short but amicble.

It has been exactly 10 days since I woke up to the mean texts from him demanding I stop speaking to her.

10 days since I told him I was pregnant and taking a blood test to confirm.

I had missed my period and I had been feeling pretty run down so a friend advised me to take a test that day and another in 2 weeks. I took the test on the 13th. The line was faint but there is was staring me in the face. I took it again hours later because well fuck it I was in denial. I took another one 3 days later and another 2 four days after that. As you can imagine, I took a lot of fucking tests and they all said the same thing in a bunch of different was – Yes, pregnant, 2 pink lines, purple lines, a + sign.

Each time I had expected a negative – it should have been negative given how early it was but also because this was not supposed to happen. The situation, the person, and my body weren’t ideal for this to be happening.

I am a senior in college, I am going to grad school, I am single, I did not love the father – I didn’t even think I ever wanted to talk to or see him again. I have medical issues both genetic and cause by the rape.

I needed to see a negative so I could move on with my life.

10 days since he accused me of sleeping with other people because if he could believe I was just as disgusting and disingenuous of a person as him it would ease his guilty conscience.

But, unfortunately for me, I was only ever with him. I had options sure, but I am incapable of focusing my attention on multiple people. I don’t have it in me to be with multiple partner – outside of consensual threesomes.

Bruuhhh, I can barely focuse my attention on one person and function properly at home, school, and work.

10 days since I offered him proof of pregnancy and paternity because I have absolutely nothig to hide.

10 days said he didn’t need it, that it was “not necessary, it was linear”.

10 days since he changed his mind and demanded all of the proof I was freely offering from the jump. “Its your word against mine”  he said, ignoring me when I told him he could have whatever test he wanted or needed. He needed/needs to believe it isn’t his. He needs to believe I am trash like him.

But

I AM NOT.

I have absolutely nothing to hide. And other than the tiny earlier mentioned white lie that harmed NO ONE, I have always been truthful.

In these 10 months, I only ever slept with him unless you count the vibrator I used to get off while video calling him. This is not new to him, I told him I was monogamus like that the very first time we spoke and he told me how jealous he gets when his partner is with someone else.

10 days since he asked me to hide this pregnancy so the lady he was interested in (the very same one that was never interested in him and clocked his toxic behavior fom the go) would not find out what a slimey piece of shit he turned out to be. I guess he was still trying to convince her he was worth her time.

And 10 days since he tried to guilt me into having an abortion so he wouldn’t “kill himself”.

I don’t for one second believe his threats because although he loves attention, he loves himself a lot more.

10 days since he asked me if this was all for his attention, as if I had nothing else going for me. As if I would always be around waiting for him after the way he had treated me.

Caring for someone does not mean you want them in your life. I don’t want to be with or be around someone who makes me question my worth. I don’t need or want someone who only kept me around – even after the many chances I gave him to bow out – so that he could continue to keep his back up ego boost around.

It has taken so many years for me to realize that I am a fucking amazing woman and friend. I’m a smart, caring, honest, and giving person. I am worth so much more and deserve so much more respect.

It has been 9 days since we agreed to discuss everything in person – A conversation where I had planned to offer him an easy way out, a way we would never have to talk to or see each other again.

While I know children “need” both parents, I grew up with just one because my mom died when I was young. My dad wasn’t perfect and he did and said some fucked up shit in my sister’s and my childhood. I remeber vividly the moments where I needed my mom. I was lucky that I had my aunts but it isn’t the same. They weren’t there to hold me at night when I cried. They weren’t there when I had my first period or had my heart broken the first time. They weren’t there when I was figuring out my pansexuality or how to tell my dad – fyi I didn’t really tell him so much as get a pride tattoo.

But I also know that if I choose to keep the baby, having just one parent who wanted to be there, one parent who is capable of loving someone would be better than having both.

I told him I wanted nothing from him and I meant it. I had every intention of asking him to sign over parental rights so that he could continue his life without the burden, without paying, without wondering.

He’s young, and “recovering”. And a small part of me still cares what happens to him. My biggest fault, is my inability to stop caring about people even years after we no longer talk. Ask my friends, I still wish everyone that has entered and exited my life well.

I didn’t know then what I would decide to do but I knew I didn’t want to ruin his life.

He set the day and time, and then without a word he erased the matter of our baby from his life.

Now with a clear mind I can read back on our conversations and see how little I meant to him as a person. I can see the more obvious gaslighting and lies.

Sure, he would call me beautiful and make me feel something.

Sure, he would say the sweetest things to keep me there but I can’t sit here and tell you I can see every truth from every lie, because I can’t.

I don’t know what was real. I don’t know what he meant as truth or lie. I don’t know if he was serious when called me amazing or told me he liked me. But none of that matters anymore.

I am pregnant and he is the father. My only options in this situation suck. I can attempt to have a child – given all the medical complications – alone and keep it while working my ass off to finish school so I can support said child, who will eventually ask me about their abstentee father, I can have the child and put it up for adoption and deal with the emotional rammifiations of giving up my first child, or I can abort it and hate myself a little more than I already do.

I am pro choice and I am so fucking thankful I have the option to make these choices but that doesn’t make them suck any less.

It has been mere hours since he told my friend who reached out to show him the results of the test since I had been blocked from all forms of communication, to “fuck off” because he didn’t “want a child” and he was “not having a child”.

Tbh, I’m not  really sure how he plans on changing that. Last I checked it was simple anatomy and biology – penis goes into the vagina, the penis ejaculates inside the vagina, sperm swims around and implants itself on the uterine wall, the woman gets pregnant.

I wish I could just yell at him, I AM PREGNANT DUDE AND YOU CAN’T CHANGE ITS DNA ANYMORE THAT I CAN.

I do not want you in my life, I really haven’t since I read that screenshot from Carolina.

I don’t wish you any harm but I don’t fucking care what you choose to do with your life.

If I could manipulate biology even a fraction of the way you are capable of manipulating people and situations, you would not be the father of this baby.

What I don’t understand, not even after Nick, is how someone can be so cold, & so ruthless to the woman who took care of him when no one else would?

That same woman who helped him out of some pretty dark corners.

This was her dark corner, her greatest obstacle to date… where was the same courtesy she had shown him all this time when he was broken down?

How can someone refuse to discuss the possible ramifications of a pregnancy and act like they are the only one being affected?

Even when the other party is willing to give you a way out…

How can someone be so evil, so sefish, and so heartless?

I completely understand being scared because I am scared, I am absolutely terrified. Petrified of everything. I don’t know what to do especially given all the complications that have come to light. Even if I chose to keep the baby, there is no garuantee that my body will cooperate, but this cruelty of his is beyond that.

In short, from what I can tell, Chase R. is a sociopath, he uses people for what they can offer him, and he cares nothing about their emotions or the consequence. He has a complete lack of conscience.

He exhibits all the signs of someone with a narcissistic personality disorder. He is a person with an inflated sense of their own importance, a deep need for excessive attention and admiration, he often struggles with troubled relationships where he is never at fault and always the vicitim and he has a lack of empathy for others.

I find these definitions ironic and fitting descriptors because I was told just as much from the woman who was getting to know him as a friend. He is his own “self proclaimed hero”, the victim of his own sad story, but sometimes, the protagonist is really the villain, and that is exactly what he is – not the victim but a villian.

***I have chosen to protect his identity and use a pseudonym because regardless of his attitude, he is still a person. One with a family. I dont want others to suffer for his disgusting behavior and I don’t need to be as horrible as him. Plus some of yall, though I love you immensly, are crazy mother fuckers who would hunt him down and I ain’t trying to get him killed.

4 thoughts on “Waste My Time

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  1. How can you protect someone like that if you don’t still care about them? If you don’t care about him than you would let people know. If he’s really that much of an ass what’s to stop him from doing this to someone else.

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    1. I care in as much that he is the father and he is someone I once considered a friend.
      I don’t fuck with someone for about 10 months and not care, not my style.

      Like I said in the post, that doesn’t turn off just because the person is a douche. I protect his identity because I don’t need to be petty and hurt people maliciously.

      Hope that answered your questions, have a blessed day

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