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Cole: July 2023

Frankie and Callum have been using dating apps on and off for years. They have convinced me to sign up on one so that I can find someone to date, to marry. That’s what is expected of someone like me. I can’t think of anything worse. While I’m on my lunch break, I sit swiping through all these profiles and come across Luna’s.

Way to ruin my fucking appetite.

My Luna has a profile on a dating app.

Well, I knew she was actively dating, she had wanted to date me after all. Why couldn’t she just leave things alone? Why did she have to ask all those difficult questions? Want to talk about feelings and define things between us? It was too much pressure for me to handle.

I check out the pictures. She looks beautiful to me but honestly, they aren’t the best pictures she could have used. One is a selfie she took for me last month. I have that picture saved already on my phone. I screenshot the rest so I can keep those too. I collect all the bits and pieces of her I can. That beautiful smile in the picture was for me. Not any of the fucking creeps on this app.

No, the pictures are great for showing off her personality, but men don't care about how funny and interesting she is. They’d judge her based on her looks. Which she could have easily shown off and yet, somehow, she’s made herself look average. There’s a picture of her in pjs! Pyjamas! And not sexy, skimpy or lacy ones that most men like. Oh no, she's thickly covered from the neck to ankle in lilac fuzzy pjs. Like who the fuck does she think that will attract?

Me. I think, me, I love it.

I check out her bio which simply reads; ‘Misandrist looking for someone to watch LOTRs with and peg.’

I laugh out loud. She is really fucking funny.

How the hell did that bio even get through the app's checks, how has no one reported her yet? I mean, she’s not wrong, that’s the most accurate summary of her I’ve ever seen. I’m angry at her for not trying.

The movie reference I feel is a dig at me, I had called the first movie boring and nothing but a lot of walking around. Turns out I had offended her. I didn’t think that was possible. Just because I personally disliked those movies doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have watched them with her. I’d have watched all the shitty films she likes. Even the ones with the sparkly fucking vampires. She’d never believe me if I told her I’ve read those books because of her.

Dating apps though are only for predators. It’s the easiest way to find the woman who want to date, to lie & manipulate to fuck them, then abandon them. At best emotionally abusing, at worst raping or killing them. I don’t use dating apps to find an actual partner. No, I already know exactly who my soulmate is. My fake-girlfriends are usually those introduced to me by friends or family. I use dating apps to find my next targets.

From Luna, I learned that women who have been abused by partners are desperately needing someone to talk to. It might not start out that way, but I’ve found, especially single mothers, trauma dump easily. Sundrop once told me that she unintentionally does that because after being silent for so long, once she had spoken to the police, it was like a damn being burst open. Everything just came tumbling out and for a long time, she didn’t know how to stop talking about it. Couldn’t shut herself up even when she actively tried to. I had noticed that she had over explained as trauma victims usually do. I remember telling her she didn’t need to tell anyone anything, even me. It was her story, her privilege to share it, not a necessity or pre-requisite for dating.

I was worried that she was telling men on first dates intimate details of the abuse she had suffered knowing they would absolutely use that information to take advantage of her.

That is exactly what I have found of most women. They are so used to being silent, that when I offer a space for them to talk, they open right up.

I am not using this to take advantage of them, I’m using it to find my next victims. The men who are rapists, paedophiles and general pieces of shit. The best information comes directly from the victim of the crime themselves. Most of which have also not gone to the police, or if they have, suffered similar experiences as Luna. Luna at least seems to have been taken seriously even if it got her nowhere down the line when it eventually got to court. Most of these women were left with no support or help.

It makes me extremely angry.

It’s not lost on me that the support that Luna needs, I give to others without thought. For some reason, it’s real with Luna and that’s what I can’t stand.

I don’t want her dating anyone else though.

Pissed off at her, I switched off my phone and put it down.

Later that day, I am knee deep in blood and gore as I fix myself the only way I know how. The man before me is not quite dead yet but he’s on his last few breaths I’d bet. His breathing is laboured, raspy and I can hear a bit of a rattle. It won’t be long now. I’d like him to hold out a bit more though, I was enjoying cutting away at his insides.

Little slashes with a small paring knife. It’s a tiny blade in comparison to most I use but this is more fun. Just giving him little cuts and nips across his intestines. A giggle has been rising out of me as I do, a noise of satisfaction. I stab him a bit, pushing the blade into something that squishes and pops. I’m offended by the noise it makes, followed by an oddly strong smell.

This never gets boring or old for me, no matter how many times I do something similar. I decided to try and remove his intestines all together, it’s a magnificent length. Reaching my hands into him, I try to find the farthest point at the top of the small intestine. I’m not sure, I never took any kind of interest in biology but this I find fascinating.

Eventually I discover what I think is the top or at least the beginning and cut through. I’m still using the paring knife, one that has a light blue handle. I had sharpened it before I had picked him up earlier this evening. It is tough but is no match for my determination and the little sharp blade. I cut and got a good hold, pulling from his body. It comes free and of course I don’t have appreciation for its length or weight until I start taking it out. It falls to my feet making a thunk and a splatter of blood and gore.

I laugh. The other end is still attached somewhere inside of his body. I look up at his face to see if he is laughing too. I find from paying attention to him now, that he has in fact died. He did not survive me ripping out these pieces of his body. I pause for a moment, disappointed because for a moment I feel lonely. I have no one to share this with.