Page 28

Sundrop: July 2023

I was at work when the Snap request came through. I had only recently started posting nonsense online again. A little phase of intense attention seeking I go through when I’m completely starved for affection that happens every so often. The Snapchat account was done innocently, I genuinely use that app for taking ridiculous pictures of myself. I love using filters, not to make myself look better but to make myself look worse. I love the stupid and bizarre and over the top ones the best. I was a little shocked to be added randomly, being sent a friend request, and another. From strangers and this intrigues me, I am that bored after all.

It’s lunchtime and I open the snaps. One is of a reasonably attractive guy sporting one hell of a moustache, not a look I usually go for. With his darker hair and deep brown eyes, he’s a nice change from Cole. So, I snap back a picture of my own face. It’s a dumb pic of me taking a drink of my water bottle, lilac of course.

The other one was of a significantly less attractive man who is shirtless, and he immediately makes me feel sick, so I delete him and focus on my new friend.

For two weeks he sends me constant snaps. CONSTANT. This is more communication with someone than I ever had even with Cole, and I thought he messaged me non-stop. They mostly have his face, or at least half his face and most of the time he is winking. This is at work, out and about and of course, while relaxing at home.

I do the same, trying to copy him picture by picture. Of course, he starts sending me pictures of his chest and I make a joke of him wanting me to send him similar shots of my own chest in response. Yes, he does.

I end up sending him nudes while in the shower, pictures of me covered in soap so he can't see everything, but it doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

Considering how rejected I have been feeling of late, it feels nice. Normal even. This is what I would like with a real boyfriend. Sending fun pics, boring pics and sexy pics. He lives far away though; this is just a little flirtation. Even me with my romanticised big dreams knows I’ll never meet this man. Neither of us even suggests it. I have called him my bestie, which he seems to be at that moment in time.

It is fun though and I had been lacking in fun and enthusiasm.

After two weeks of him also sending me dick pics, I ask the question. Not because I’m interested but I realised that I don’t want to be used by someone cheating on their partner. I had assumed he was single.

Luna: We’re besties and all and I don’t want a relationship. However, I don’t want to be used by someone to cheat on their partner. Are you with someone?

Dillian: My relationship status is complicated

Fucking complicated?

What the fuck does he mean complicated???

That bottled up rage I always feel erupts. It’s 11pm at night. I've been sitting at my dressing table doing my skin care before I was planning on going to bed. He’s at work. I have just sent him a picture of my tits. He had just sent the millionth picture of his dick, while in his work uniform, he is manager of a cinema. He’d taken the picture in the toilets on his break. For a 30-year-old wearing Batman boxers, he did not have the fucking right to tell me that.

I was furious.

He immediately deleted me, blocked me and I noticed that his Instagram, which I hadn’t looked through properly, suddenly became private. FUCKING ASSHOLE.

I am angry and that anger doesn’t subside.

For thirty days I check each day to see if that profile is still private. Eventually after the 30th day, he must decide that enough time has passed, and it is safe again. That I had forgotten about him.

WRONG. I will take a grudge to the grave. I will not forget. I went through that Instagram profile of his. What do I find? A wife of nine years and what looks like a baby of 12-18 months old? I’m not good at telling the age of a child. It's very little though. I see pictures of them in their home, the one he sent me so many pics from I was convinced he did live alone. No family pics in the background or even kids' toys lying around. I check for these things. I genuinely thought he was a single man living alone.

So, I view his story to make sure he is aware that I know, and I have not forgotten about him.

Then I message his wife and tell her everything.

It is Laura who takes my picture, it’s cute but then I’ve always taken a decent enough picture. I’m attractive enough. That’s never been my issue. I am bored of looks that only attract men, never keep them once they get to know my personality.

But so called happily married, Laura made the profile for me and suggested we should search for a handsome eligible bachelor for me. She uses my phone, I don’t mind, I keep nothing incriminating on there.

Except for my folder dedicated to Cole with his dick pics, post cum pics and random pics of food or his foot occasionally. There may or may not be screenshots of certain cute little messages he sent me. Ones that really meant something to me, but its password protected, and I’m allowed a little keepsake, some way to remind myself it was real. It did really happen. I didn’t make it all up.

She takes pictures of me; one of me sitting down and reading a book, a full body one of me standing in front of a rainbow wall display which is a cool picture. That might be my new social media profile pic. She also takes me outside and gets a decent picture of me under the blue sky, sun shining. My eyes look like they have some light and sparkle in them. She had made me laugh, a little at least.

It was nice, it felt normal.

We upload the pics and of course over the space of the afternoon shift until closing, there are 99+ likes on my profile. “Wow, that’s really impressive.” I laugh again, taking my phone and looking at it. It’s just a free version, “Most men will click like on every single profile they come across without reading the profile or even bothering to look through the pictures.” Her face drops at that, and all the time she spent making me the perfect bio. Going on at length about how good a baker I am, how I’m smart and read a lot.

“Yeah.” I shrug a little, my dress not sitting right against my shoulders. It’s so warm now. The library thankfully is dark, it’s out of any direct sunlight, I love it.

She’s disappointed but spends some time going through the men available and keeps asking me if I’d date a Scorpio? “Eww, no,” I say, that should be the obvious response. Or would you date a, “guy named Henry?” I say no and tell her to make sure not to pick anyone named Graham or Nicholas.

That night in bed, I sat scrolling mindlessly on my phone. I’m bored, I have no one to talk to. I have nothing to scratch that itch or contain myself. I need to do something, but I also don’t have the energy. I go to the dating app and open it up. I take a moment to familiarise myself with the details, accidentally super liking some random guy who I wouldn’t even pay attention to in the street.

To be fair, I’d not pay attention to most people, let alone men. Women and children, I at least look out for as a courtesy. But men? Men, I like to stare down on the street and walk towards them and make sure they move first. They always do, eventually.

Although, if I'm out walking and I happen to take the roadside passing a man, I make sure to wink at him and call him, “Princess.” They always take a moment to react and by then I’m no longer there.

Mindlessly clicking ‘no’ on every single one because eww, I can't imagine myself fucking anyone here. I lower my search radius to local and within a few clicks I am faced with mother fucking Cole.

It’s been less than a month since he rejected me. I had asked him out, to date, to be serious, with the intention of being in a relationship with him, because I knew that’s what I wanted with him. Specifically fucking him. So, tell me why this fucker has it in his bio; “LOOKING FOR A LONG-TERM RELATIONSHIP.”

He is playing with fucking fire. Looking for a long-term relationship. I’ve never been good at maths, so I need to work this one out. Looking for a long-term relationship. But when asked, doesn’t want a long-term relationship with me. So, if he’s looking for a long-term relationship, proactively out here looking for a long-term relationship but when given the choice of having one with me, said “I don’t know.”

Then he wants to be in a long-term relationship, he doesn’t want to be in a long-term relationship WITH ME. Specifically me. ANYONE ELSE APPARENTLY. Not me. Anyone but me, who isn’t me, anyone else…

That is the only logical conclusion that even someone as insane as I, could come to. I take one deep breath, sitting up in my bed, I go to the settings for the app and delete the whole fucking profile. I then pick up my phone and throw it against the wall, leaving the smashed pieces as I lay down, turn on my side and fall asleep.

It takes a couple of days for my new phone to arrive. It’s cute, it’s lilac and it's given me the excuse to buy myself some pretty little phone covers.

When I’m already feeling shitty, I open social media and check the pages of those I have blocked. I don’t use fake profiles, I could, but I choose not to. I want people to know that I am looking at their page and not hiding it. Psychologically, it’s a better option because it insights fear. I want those who have harmed me to know that I haven’t forgotten them, so I systematically check their social media profiles.

To begin with, someone might think that I’m desperate to know what they are up to, see who they are with etc because I am obviously so pathetic and needy. However, that’s not the case at all. I don’t care what certain people are up to. I don’t care who they are with or what they are doing. If it has nothing to do with me, I genuinely do not care.

However, the intentional psychological impact of me remaining a constant figure in the background is akin to the feeling of being followed on a dark night. To begin with, the person doesn’t necessarily feel anything wrong or understand the danger they are in. Little by little, over time, it becomes a source of anxiety. Where is she? When is she going to pop up again? Why has she not moved on? Why has she not left me alone?

Those feelings build, and what started as an egotistical boost to their self-esteem grabs that narcissistic sense of averting their own guilty conscience and turns into something they can’t run away from. Trapped with their guilt, knowing they have wronged me. In that attempt to flee, refusing to take accountability. Narcissists are unable to do so because of their own deeply insecure sense of self. That means they are tortured by my never-ending presence.

Truthfully, I do this to insight dread. Will I act upon it? Maybe one day. Maybe never. Maybe I’ll just do this until it drives the person mad.

Graham knew I was psychotic and yet, his own psychotic nature made it impossible for him to fear me the way he knew he should. I can’t blame him for that exactly, but I can blame him for everything else.

So, I checked on his female best friend, the one he told me he’s never touched because she was such an ugly whore. His words. Someone who had fucked so many people and was so unfaithful that he’d never sully himself with. That resonated with me because I don’t like touching people.

One reason I don’t sleep around too much is because I don’t trust the hygiene either personal or sexual, of most people. Seeing posts online during lockdown about how little people felt they should or did wash their hands was enough for me not to want to be touched by anyone at all. It’s disgusting.

Turns out he wasn’t really that fussy since he’d stick his dick into anything and everything. Whether it wanted him to or not. He knows his time is running out, that’s probably why he keeps telling people I’m a lying, evil bitch.

I click onto her profile and of course, it’s completely open for this exact reason. She wants everyone to see exactly what she is up to, where she goes and who she is with. He’s blocked me on everything, but she posts pictures of him, on nights out, at quizzes they have at their own homes or at the pub. Such a vibrant social life. Praising him for being such a great friend. Her very bestest of lifelong friends.

Oh, he’s a brilliant friend to have, the very best except when he’s bullying everyone. Her lack of self-esteem mainly comes from how badly he bullies her. What I didn’t realise, due to my own arrogance, is how jealous she was of me. I don’t feel jealousy; I forget that other people do.

How narcissistic she was. Always the victim, always the one soliciting pity, I felt bad for her and wanted to take care of her. I tried too. I could see him taking advantage of her, using her, laughing at her to her face and behind her back. He doesn’t have the capacity to care about anything or anyone.

And then I see something that makes my stomach fucking drop and this is why they say, if you fuck around, you find out.

This is me finding out.

There’s Cole.

THERE’S A FUCKING PICTURE OF COLE, REBECCA, GRAHAM, STEPHEN AND FRANKIE TOGETHER

FROM JUNE, FROM JUNE… THE NIGHT AFTER HE GOT IN TOUCH WITH ME.

He fucking lied to me.

He messaged me on Thursday, we started talking on Friday, we were talking a little over that weekend and then on Monday I asked him to date me, seriously.

AND HE WAS WITH GRAHAM ON THE FUCKING SATURDAY FUCKING NIGHT.

Something whispers to me that it’s all been a big fucking joke to them. That they sit around a dining table and talk shit about me, all laughing about me. That he has told them everything and they act like fucking kids in school. That this whole time he had been lying to me. Making me believe he liked and cared about me, that we could be together. And what? He’s been doing this for the group chat, to make the others laugh?

Has Graham seen the videos and pictures I sent Cole?

In private, the things I shared thinking we were going to end up together?

I threw up then.