Short fuse.

Either I’m getting stir crazy because of the flood, or I’m getting less tolerant of people’s overall malarkey.

Yeah, I used the word malarkey. Deal with it.

So I believe last time I counted, the men who have decided to use me as someone to cheat on their spouses was 5. Today we can add a 6th. Although we’d never met, he definitely used his words to cheat in a most seductive way. It was, much to my chagrin, my favorite of the men I’ve met on Twitter. Not exactly the conventional way of doing things, but he had caught my attention with the way he used words. 

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If you’ll remember, I was kind of wishing it to be possible to take his brain and put it into the body of the latest Tinderfella, who, I thought, had disappeared. Turns out, no, he’s just been super busy with work… if he is to be believed.

And after this latest upset, I’m not sure what to believe anymore.

On the one hand, I am highly impressed with myself that someone could find my brain so attractive that they would be seduced by it and only a few pictures of me, some of which are not entirely me (like my gravatar pic, which is also my Twitter AVI, is 2 different images superimposed, only one of which is me). He said it was my words, my #MissMuseMe tweets and the poetry that got his attention. He told me that he hadn’t expected it to get in any way romantic; maybe just some harmless flirting…

On the other hand, I am, as I have said before, very tired of feeling like I am somebody’s fantasy, but never their reality. I had even told him as much, which must have been why he said something along the lines of we must promise to never meet. I had jokingly asked him what he would do if I just showed up on his doorstep (a complete impossibility as he lives several states away), and he got very nervous.

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I think perhaps I knew then that there was something not right. The fantasy was too perfect; he was too gentle with his words, too sensual.

He sent me pictures of his hands, to let me know how big and strong they were, so I could imagine what they felt like holding me. He talked of sweet gentle kisses, and passionate hunger.

He told me what an amazing woman I was to make him feel so comfortable and amazing, while drowning me in the tale of his heartbreak at the hands of a previous online lover. He had loved her passionately with his words, and he had awoken something within her, bringing back her will to experience life and she chose to do so with someone a little closer to her than he was.

Ugh…

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In hindsight it was the perfect set up because I am a sucker for a romantic story. Also, thinking back, I remember when he was telling me the story that I didn’t believe him. It seemed too much like a story, pure artifice.

In fact, I told him so. Told him how hard it was to believe him because I’d sent him a copy to this very blog, and reading it would give him all the arsenal he needed to get me to trust him. It tells you want I want from a man, what I don’t want. Tells you how I’ve been hurt, and how difficult it is for me to heal. Even tells you about my Asperger’s… which he told me he had some of the traits, and that was the turning point for me believing him.

I have created the perfect blueprint for my own destruction.

And he used it. Or if it wasn’t intentional, it sure as hell seems like he did!

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It’s not been long enough for me to feel heartbreak, but it is perhaps too close to the ordeal with the Bartender to go without invoking some ire… which I did direct at him this morning when the truth came out.

So for not quite two weeks, we’ve been chatting back and forth on Twitter, both through the tweets and direct messaging, and the conversation has gotten steadily more and more intimate. He’s been the first conversation I wake up to for the last several days at least, with his very sensual good morning virtual kisses and things.

In all honesty, it was for this one in particular that I was thinking about how far can I give into the fantasy when I wrote the post about being a Digital Whore a little over a week ago. He made me feel so good, that I didn’t want to let that go, and I needed to feel loved after how the Bartender left me feeling completely used and lied to.

Maybe I could feel the similarities and chose to ignore them. Or maybe I was hoping this one would choose me!

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See, he isn’t married, but he has a “live in.” And similar to the Bartender, while he’s not happy there are children involved. Only these aren’t his kids (unlike the Bartender), but he’s been with her for long enough that they might as well be. Her youngest is only 10.

He gave me a sob story about his bipolar wife and how he had to get rid of her because she cheated on him, and how he had to raise his three boys all on his own…

Meanwhile he’s had a live in lover and they’ve been helping raise each other’s kids.

Apparently my romance story requires a sob story so I can give some hardworking man the pampering and love and support he deserves. Probably because I feel I need a certain level of pampering and love and support.

I was quick to believe it because I wanted to. He was intelligent, moderately attractive, older, well educated (a doctor…well, a chiropractor), very sensual with his words, seemingly open, and yet… totally safe because he was hundreds, if not thousands of miles away.

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There was no reason for a lie. None. It was all a fantasy. It could never be more than fantasy. Why lie? Better yet, knowing it was all a fantasy and could never be reality, why tell the truth and destroy the fantasy like that?

I admit, I prefer the truth, but for a digital only affair, what’s the point in ruining it like that?

So I let him have it this morning. I was angry and let it all out: Why feed me the fantasy? Why not tell the truth? Thanks for proving to me that even the nice guys are douchebags…  I’ve yet to meet a man who was genuinely honest and nice who actually wanted to date me. I’m beginning to think they don’t exist… All of it came out.

My feelings aren’t hurt, I’m just pissed that even the nice ones are assholes, it seems. I kind of think maybe this was some sort of digital rebound relationship. Weird.

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But there’s still still some hope. The Last Tinderfella is back around, though probably only for carnal reasons. We can’t meet for a few weeks, so we’ll see if he can keep my attention that long. He might be shy and so we haven’t quite hit a stride yet. There’s a difficulty communicating, though some of that might have been because the online fantasy was so perfect I was frustrated with my not so perfect offline reality…

I’m rooting for this Tinderfella though because where we are in our separate lives seems to be at a similar point. I just don’t know if he can keep me mentally stimulated enough, or if choosing him is settling.

I’ve held out this long, why settle now?

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