EXPLOITED BY A PREDATIVE FOID [TRUE STORY]

PumpkinCrane823

PumpkinCrane823

chud
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i messaged first. That should’ve been the first red flag.





no Stacey with symmetrical bone structure and exs opens without an agenda. Yet I ignored it, because I was starved for novelty and digital validation had rewired my threat response. She said I had “kind eyes.” What does that even fucking mean? That my hunter instincts are suppressed?





Anyway. Within 72 hours we’re calling. By 96 hours, I’m on a train to meet her. She’s perfect — too perfect. Skin smooth as silk, laugh timed like a sitcom. Instant comfort. No social friction. We move through the city like a cinematic hallucination. She lets me give her a small kiss when we meet and we hug tightly. She doesn’t even look at her phone much — psychotic level of presentness. That’s not normal.





We go shopping and visit multiple stores; I give my honest opinions but have to mask. She “forgets” to bring another top to try on and asks me to “pop in” with her. She’s naked. No hesitation. No modesty. Just raw eye contact like a predator checking how much I can take before folding. I don’t fold. She’s sat straddled in my lap dryhumping me in a moment of raw passion. We make out in the changing room. It feels like I finally ascended.





She’s tactile. Smiling. Keeps using my name. I’m being mirrored.


I’m not being loved — I’m being studied.





Back at hers, we do what people do when their brains are drowning in novelty and oxytocin. I leave with serotonin depletion, already thinking about permanence and cringe at the stunted height growth.





Soon, two days later, I go hiking in Spain for a week in the mountains without connection. I send her a photo of a mountain. A dog I met. A trail sign in Gredos. She hearts the photo. Then… nothing. For a few days I keep up with her keeping conversation going but soon she just stops. After a week, gone.





Valentine’s Day. I open Instagram.


“User not found.”


Snapchat: Grey box.


WhatsApp: No last seen.


Even BeReal: gone.


Blocked. Everywhere.





I panic:





  • Was she lovebombing? Possibly.
  • Was I a rebound? Could be.
  • Was I an experiment? Most likely.







Here’s the theory: I was an emotional decoy. A human-sized stimulant to play out a fantasy, right up to the dopamine crash. The shopping date was a theatre act. The changing room was a ritual. The blocking was the ritual’s end.





I wasn’t “ghosted.” I was offboarded. It’s like she just forgot about me. It seemed so , so sudden. Only a week before we had shared a moment of such intimacy yet now she wanted to rid her life of me. It felt disgusting and immoral. Was it my height? My UEE?




Conclusion:





  • If it escalates too fast, it’s not real.
  • If it feels perfect, it’s performance.
  • If she blocks you with zero warning, she never saw you as a person. Just a context.







I loved her.


She loved the version of herself she could access through me.


And when that version faded, so did I.



find photos of our chats attached. this whole thing just causes so much rage for me because I had saved myself for so long and when I finally opened myself up she exploited me and took advantage of my vulnerability. what’s the point in dating. I feel useless.
 

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  • JFL
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  • So Sad
Reactions: BigJimsWornOutTires, GynoGladiator, the MOUSE and 7 others
brutal how foids just switch up any second. had an almost exact same experience with one from my school she was justr dry for no reason and switched up instantly then i got blocked
 
  • +1
Reactions: MiserableMan, the MOUSE, Abdullahm06 and 1 other person
brutal how foids just switch up any second. had an almost exact same experience with one from my school she was justr dry for no reason and switched up instantly then i got blocked
it’s just unfair man I put my everything into her and just don’t know what to do without her
 
  • So Sad
  • +1
Reactions: cystic, MiserableMan, SilverStCloud and 2 others
  • Woah
  • JFL
Reactions: SilverStCloud and chudjack1148
Wait until you find out not just her but everybody works this same way
 
  • +1
Reactions: SilverStCloud and Abdullahm06
I legitimately thought this was a copypasta due to the sheer level of autism on display here
 
  • JFL
  • +1
Reactions: Restitutor Orbis, pulsar23, SilverStCloud and 1 other person
I legitimately thought this was a copypasta due to the sheer level of autism on display here
Come on, the guy opened up, be respectful even if it’s bosh
 
  • +1
  • Love it
  • JFL
Reactions: cystic, looksMaxL, Alt Number 3 and 4 others
I feel bad for you man she did the same thing hope u get better soon
 
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Reactions: FutureSlayer
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Reactions: Alt Number 3 and FutureSlayer
  • +1
Reactions: PumpkinCrane823
  • +1
Reactions: ascension
Come on, the guy opened up, be respectful even if it’s bosh
Thanks for the respect it means alot im just in the dumps rn and had to get it out verbalised
 
  • +1
Reactions: FutureSlayer and ascension
i messaged first. That should’ve been the first red flag.





no Stacey with symmetrical bone structure and exs opens without an agenda. Yet I ignored it, because I was starved for novelty and digital validation had rewired my threat response. She said I had “kind eyes.” What does that even fucking mean? That my hunter instincts are suppressed?





Anyway. Within 72 hours we’re calling. By 96 hours, I’m on a train to meet her. She’s perfect — too perfect. Skin smooth as silk, laugh timed like a sitcom. Instant comfort. No social friction. We move through the city like a cinematic hallucination. She lets me give her a small kiss when we meet and we hug tightly. She doesn’t even look at her phone much — psychotic level of presentness. That’s not normal.





We go shopping and visit multiple stores; I give my honest opinions but have to mask. She “forgets” to bring another top to try on and asks me to “pop in” with her. She’s naked. No hesitation. No modesty. Just raw eye contact like a predator checking how much I can take before folding. I don’t fold. She’s sat straddled in my lap dryhumping me in a moment of raw passion. We make out in the changing room. It feels like I finally ascended.





She’s tactile. Smiling. Keeps using my name. I’m being mirrored.


I’m not being loved — I’m being studied.





Back at hers, we do what people do when their brains are drowning in novelty and oxytocin. I leave with serotonin depletion, already thinking about permanence and cringe at the stunted height growth.





Soon, two days later, I go hiking in Spain for a week in the mountains without connection. I send her a photo of a mountain. A dog I met. A trail sign in Gredos. She hearts the photo. Then… nothing. For a few days I keep up with her keeping conversation going but soon she just stops. After a week, gone.





Valentine’s Day. I open Instagram.


“User not found.”


Snapchat: Grey box.


WhatsApp: No last seen.


Even BeReal: gone.


Blocked. Everywhere.





I panic:





  • Was she lovebombing? Possibly.
  • Was I a rebound? Could be.
  • Was I an experiment? Most likely.







Here’s the theory: I was an emotional decoy. A human-sized stimulant to play out a fantasy, right up to the dopamine crash. The shopping date was a theatre act. The changing room was a ritual. The blocking was the ritual’s end.





I wasn’t “ghosted.” I was offboarded. It’s like she just forgot about me. It seemed so , so sudden. Only a week before we had shared a moment of such intimacy yet now she wanted to rid her life of me. It felt disgusting and immoral. Was it my height? My UEE?




Conclusion:





  • If it escalates too fast, it’s not real.
  • If it feels perfect, it’s performance.
  • If she blocks you with zero warning, she never saw you as a person. Just a context.







I loved her.


She loved the version of herself she could access through me.


And when that version faded, so did I.



find photos of our chats attached. this whole thing just causes so much rage for me because I had saved myself for so long and when I finally opened myself up she exploited me and took advantage of my vulnerability. what’s the point in dating. I feel useless.
Bro got pumped and dumped :lul:
 
  • JFL
Reactions: Abdullahm06
She probably saw a bad picture of you
 
  • JFL
Reactions: T50 Mogger and pulsar23
i messaged first. That should’ve been the first red flag.





no Stacey with symmetrical bone structure and exs opens without an agenda. Yet I ignored it, because I was starved for novelty and digital validation had rewired my threat response. She said I had “kind eyes.” What does that even fucking mean? That my hunter instincts are suppressed?





Anyway. Within 72 hours we’re calling. By 96 hours, I’m on a train to meet her. She’s perfect — too perfect. Skin smooth as silk, laugh timed like a sitcom. Instant comfort. No social friction. We move through the city like a cinematic hallucination. She lets me give her a small kiss when we meet and we hug tightly. She doesn’t even look at her phone much — psychotic level of presentness. That’s not normal.





We go shopping and visit multiple stores; I give my honest opinions but have to mask. She “forgets” to bring another top to try on and asks me to “pop in” with her. She’s naked. No hesitation. No modesty. Just raw eye contact like a predator checking how much I can take before folding. I don’t fold. She’s sat straddled in my lap dryhumping me in a moment of raw passion. We make out in the changing room. It feels like I finally ascended.





She’s tactile. Smiling. Keeps using my name. I’m being mirrored.


I’m not being loved — I’m being studied.





Back at hers, we do what people do when their brains are drowning in novelty and oxytocin. I leave with serotonin depletion, already thinking about permanence and cringe at the stunted height growth.





Soon, two days later, I go hiking in Spain for a week in the mountains without connection. I send her a photo of a mountain. A dog I met. A trail sign in Gredos. She hearts the photo. Then… nothing. For a few days I keep up with her keeping conversation going but soon she just stops. After a week, gone.





Valentine’s Day. I open Instagram.


“User not found.”


Snapchat: Grey box.


WhatsApp: No last seen.


Even BeReal: gone.


Blocked. Everywhere.





I panic:





  • Was she lovebombing? Possibly.
  • Was I a rebound? Could be.
  • Was I an experiment? Most likely.







Here’s the theory: I was an emotional decoy. A human-sized stimulant to play out a fantasy, right up to the dopamine crash. The shopping date was a theatre act. The changing room was a ritual. The blocking was the ritual’s end.





I wasn’t “ghosted.” I was offboarded. It’s like she just forgot about me. It seemed so , so sudden. Only a week before we had shared a moment of such intimacy yet now she wanted to rid her life of me. It felt disgusting and immoral. Was it my height? My UEE?




Conclusion:





  • If it escalates too fast, it’s not real.
  • If it feels perfect, it’s performance.
  • If she blocks you with zero warning, she never saw you as a person. Just a context.







I loved her.


She loved the version of herself she could access through me.


And when that version faded, so did I.



find photos of our chats attached. this whole thing just causes so much rage for me because I had saved myself for so long and when I finally opened myself up she exploited me and took advantage of my vulnerability. what’s the point in dating. I feel useless.
holy fucking autism bro. this sounds like this lasted less than 3 weeks? who gives a shit bro
 

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