[30.5, 09:25]: This is exactly why I don’t listen to messages, you keep deleting
[2.6, 19:29] E]: What loyalty do you expect? That I get down on all fours and beg you to tie me up and strangle me?
[2.6, 21:28] Et: People just stay away from you when you are sick and vulnerable
[5.6, 17:56] El: Now I also have to do a urine test every day otherwise there is no asketamine
[5.6, 17:57] Et: And loyalty is to me wanting to see you regardless of weed
[5.6, 17:58] Et: Maybe the desire to heal pain with pain
[5.6, 18:01] E: I swallowed 25 sleeping pills and got to the ER
[5.6, 18:02] E: Sometime with my distorted perception I thought you might come
[5.6, 18:02] E: And I’m far from being as crazy as you think
[5.6, 18:03] E: If I deleted messages it’s because I begged you to come and I knew it wouldn’t happen
[5.6, 18:04] E: Loyalty does not belong here
[5.6, 18:06]E: Pain may belong, but loyalty is a bit too much
[5.6, 18:07] E: I’m like a dog that you kick in the face and she continues to wait for you submissively like a puppy, believing that one day you will return

In 2022, I met “the chef,” a weed dealer. He seemed a bit broken and shattered, which drew me to him from the very beginning. Initially, I thought he was just a courier, but it turned out he was the ringleader. I became his loyal right-hand. We traveled to Tel Aviv together, and I booked a hotel under my name, using my own credit card. This was a significant risk, but it earned me the respect of the other members. My nerdy, innocent appearance made me an unlikely suspect as a courier.

Eventually, the police caught him. They searched his apartment and found kilos of weed along with other drugs. They had been tracking him for over a year and had plenty of evidence against him. Despite this, I didn’t leave.

The last night before the police arrested him, we became intimate. He was always a father figure to me, and we never got intimate together until that last night. It turned out he was kinky and into BDSM. I discovered I wasn’t vanilla either. He was gentle with me and didn’t actually hurt me. It was an unforgettable night.

The last night with the chef was unforgettable. I think I never climaxed so hard before. He pinched my nipples. He slapped my face with his dick. He called me his bitch. He let me suck his cock. He didn’t come but I did, I yelled and shouted so loud. I submitted it to him. He didn’t actually hurt me. He gave me a lot of pleasure. And then he got arrested. He was gone. I didn’t see him for years. I ran into him accidentally in the pharmacy. He was getting his medical marijuana and I was buying my antidepressants. He told me he was out of his illegal activities and was now working as an actual chef. He gave me his phone number. A few months later I went back to the psych ward, this time to treat my major depressive episode. I saw one of the girls getting her medical marijuana and I developed a weed craving instantly. I called him and asked him to share some of his. He said he had none at the moment but the next day he came to pick me up from the hospital. He had a bong in his car. “You are more beautiful now than you were when we first met”. He told me. He was making a move almost instantly. It wasn’t a pleasant move. But I was celibate for a year. I felt a-sexual, unattractive. the fire in me extinguished. I was grateful that he was willing to touch me. He took me in his rented car, not even a rented motel room or his home. He grabbed my breasts and slid his hand under my shirt, stroking my nipples. “take off your pants he ordered me. I collaborated. I took off my pants and my underwear. “Touch yourself” he commanded me but I couldn’t do it. I hardly touched myself for over a year. He let me suck his dick. He slapped my face and told me that I should be humiliated. Here, drink some water he said. Then he tried to penetrate me but my body simply didn’t cooperate. I didn’t get wet. I used to get wet from a simple handshake. It didn’t happen this time. I didn’t get wet. I didn’t enjoy his penetration, it burnt. to his defense, I’ll say that he stopped. instantly. He got me a sandwich, but he was too cheapskate to pay for the french fries. Then he was gone. I thought he’d stick up with me. He mentioned how loyal I was to him. How I went through the unpaved road, the obstacles, the rocks and the bottoms. He didn’t return the favor. He never answered my messages. He didn’t reply to my pleas for help. I thought he’d buy me coffee, and have a conversation with me, ask how I was doing. He said he was very busy, cooking for two weddings a day. He simply wasn’t there for me. I was no longer of use to him. it took me some time to recover. I’m not sure I recovered yet. I spoke about it in therapy. It takes time but I lost all the respect I had for him. He is a simple man, not an intellectual. He was an opportunist. A junkie. It wasn’t just weed he was using, I’m sure. He was probably getting high on “nice guy” and cocaine. He lost his empathy and compassion. Just a bad guy, just another disappointment. You can say that my messages were desparate and pathetic. He didn’t want to get involved with a mentally ill woman like myself, in fact I wouldn’t want that either.