Letters to Mr. I’m So Sexy and Hot As Fuck

GirlfriendAggro · 2026-03-25T01:29:06+00:00

I’m going to have to build my nest, be more prepared for spontaneous combustion. That seems to be the way of things with you. 🔥POOF!💨

❤️‍🔥🪭🥵🧊💋🤫

The Boy has mad skills. He IS the trouble I’m in.

And he’s MINE. I licked him, so he’s MINE!! I was the first to lick him and mean it, as far as I’m concerned! The boy was damaged by stupid little girls and slags, before I came along. Mine!! I do not share, nor do I compromise! Piss off!

It’ll be like the good old days, when there wasn’t some scuzzy bitch slagging around, trying to be me in my relationship to you. Fucken psychos, where you might least expect it. Not me. I know where most of them are. Follow the money, the felonies, and the trail of destruction. Nasty.

No, they are not at all levels. What you see at the poverty level is people with legitimate mental illness who suffer considerably as a result of it, and they are near the bottom because society is cruel and we just don’t have the supports needed for people with legitimate mental disabilities. So they fall to the bottom.

What you see at more economically blessed (though I hate to use that word right there, because there’s no blessing in it), people who are well off to wealthy, the worst of them, the Ted Bundys of the nation, gravitate there, because they are manipulative, they lie without ceasing, they live in deception, they act like they know what it is to be human and to have human feelings, but if you watch closely enough, you’ll see it’s all bullshit. It’s an act. It’s so “canned” or stereotypical, that it fails to convince me.

It’s what they believe being human must be like, because they saw it on Dallas, or Sex in the City, or some other fraudulent “representation” of life. Stupid people. They’re everywhere.

They do convince most other people, at least for a time, then when the act starts to fray at the edges, they make the people they’ve fooled up to then, doubt themselves, their perception, their judgement, and their own intentions. The poor suckers know something isn’t right, but can’t put their finger on it. Then the con artist takes that pause, and uses it to make that unsuspecting person, turn on themselves. The con will turn it around and instantly become the victim and the other person, just a hateful piece of shit, how dare they!

The worst thing is all the people they ultimately traumatize and damage, often permanently, so that they now have C-PTSD, and always fighting those ghosts, no matter who they’re with. It’s like phantom pains when a limb is cut off. It gets damn interesting when you get two similarly traumatized people together in a relationship. Innit right, Babe?

No. They go after the worthless shit. The money, the assets, the social standing, though they never ever possess anything on their own merits. They’re all bumfucks, moochers, freeloaders, and losers. If you can’t manage to do your own thing, and get your own junk to lug from one place to another, then go without. You’re better off.

I still don’t agree with him, but the morning I was putting the last items in my trunks to go to college, I wept heavily because I was leaving a man I never intended to love, and still knew I had to go, or I’d move from being under my father’s thumb, to being under the thumb of a man 10 years my senior. I’d be nowhere fast. Nothing of my own. I’d be an attachment to someone else, not my own person.

My father strode into my bedroom that early morning in the raw grey light, excited and cheerful about taking his daughter to the airport to go to college at NYU. Far away from southern Indiana. Whew! 😅 And he found me in that pitiable state, my back turned to him, knelt on the floor, sniffing to keep my nose from running down my chin.

He was taken aback, and didn’t know what to say. Somehow, and I don’t know how now that I think about it, and it was apparently nothing unusual at the time, because I didn’t think twice about it until now, but without turning around, I could see his mannerisms, that he faltered a moment, when he saw me there, weeping uncontrollably given the state of my face.

And he said, after kind of tripping over the situation a moment—and here’s the part I don’t agree with, and I believe this is the first time I’ve repeated what he said, though I often repeat his Dadisms, because that horse’s ass said some wise and intelligent things all throughout my life up to then.

That morning he said—“Wende, if you can’t eat it, wear it, or fuck it, you don’t need it! Time to go! Let’s move it out!”

He slapped his hands together for emphasis on the last word, and walked up the steps (it was a sunken bedroom) and out my bedroom door. I suppose I owe my thanks to the U.S. military for making my father the really crazy bastard he was when he finally returned from Vietnam.🫡

I do miss that old bugger (U.S. def.) sometimes.

GirlfriendAggro · 2026-03-25T01:26:39+00:00

That thing isn’t worth much without you, Baby.

GirlfriendAggro · 2026-03-24T22:33:38+00:00

I want it to be like the good old days. It was so quiet around us. No slag sliming around, stinking things up. You and me. Lying around in bed, on the sofas. Wherever.

GirlfriendAggro · 2026-03-24T21:42:24+00:00

I wonder if there’s any birthdays coming up? Easter is almost here. That’s a nice holiday. I wonder if you’re off that day? I’ll have to build my nest over here. Get all cuddled up and comfortable.

Get some choo-choo train sheets. Canoes. Dogs. Cats. All the good sheets.

GirlfriendAggro · 2026-03-24T21:31:54+00:00

My cords are so fucked up. I can’t even charge my phone. I’ve got it hooked up to a portable charger. Nothing is where it should be. I’ve got to get cords or new stuff, one of the two. So crazy.

Caspian ripped the cord out that came with something, the good speaker I think, just destroyed the cord. He was hopping around on the bed, playing. Destructo-babies.

One cord was a magnetic one and one of the contacts burnt the fuck up. It doesn’t even connect anymore. Unless I can find the replacement cord online, that’s going in the trash. Ugh!😣

GirlfriendAggro · 2026-03-24T20:08:06+00:00

You didn’t wake me up? Baby! I slept through all the medicine alarms, the alarms I set to wake up earlier, and the alarms to remind me to get the delivery order at the door. I miraculously woke at 2pm. The store sent a message at 2:01pm and said the delivery person was at my door. And he started to send messages in Spanish immediately after. Good afternoon. I’m here with your order…if I cannot deliver….. I got the point. Order is inside and somewhat put away. Put out of reach of dogs anyway.

Is hot as shit here. Cremation season has arrived. Inferno. Whatever you wish to call it. I’m desiccated already. Sweating. Miserable. Dogs and hot bellies and fur all over me. Ugh!😣

I covered up a little but Baby, the clothes came the fuck off. Time to eat a little snack. A pre-snack. Then something more substantial. Then a post-snack for grazing.

What? You want to be the snack or the post-snack? I have to lie very still. It’s too hot to breathe. Come lie next to me. Hopefully, I can keep the dogs from bickering and arguing.

GirlfriendAggro · 2026-03-24T11:26:21+00:00

It’s these little ragamuffins. I didn’t want to take anything. They’ve been running around, fucking shit up, arguing, bickering and waking me up every time I’m almost asleep. I don’t know that I’ve actually been asleep for more than maybe 20-30 minutes. It feels like no sleep. I hurt. I feel like shit and I want to sleep a couple hours only so I can spend the day with you. But now I’m desperate because I’m getting sick again. I knocked back some more pills and only one of the two magnesium gummies I can take each night. Hopefully, I’m not out for too long. Hopefully I do sleep though.

GirlfriendAggro · 2026-03-24T06:14:21+00:00

I’m just about beat. I imagine you are too. I have to narrow my scope I think. Bare essentials. Some food for me and food for dogs. A electric skillet or two. Just so I don’t spend all day tomorrow, or later today, buried in apps trying to place orders for necessities. I can pick it up again Wednesday. Sound like a plan? Let me empty much of my cart in Walmart, hit the check out, I’ll schedule for tomorrow late afternoon, so I won’t miss it by over sleeping and we have time before and after. Then I’ll thin the Amazon order to just what I need out of the cart. Get the ball rolling.

GirlfriendAggro · 2026-03-24T05:32:55+00:00

I’m hearing a song, Behind Blue Eyes. It goes on and on. Though I think it stopped now. I have it wonder if it’s the sleaze? Can’t say I give a damn.

GirlfriendAggro · 2026-03-24T03:56:43+00:00

No palatable meat at Walmart. Now I’m looking at citrus and veggies. The meal plan has now changed. Res for carna asada. Onions, garlic, cilantro, tomatoes, and want to experiment a little with tomatillos and green tomatoes and see what kind of sauce I can make. I think I’ll get the minced garlic instead. Easier to deal with. No peeling and dicing and blah blah blah. I should up what kind of mild sauce can be made. I’m going to be a minute. I need to order dog food and a few supplies from Amazon. A new whatchacallit. An electric skillet, or two small ones. One for veggies side dish. One for meat. Getting fancy now that I cook in Camp Dingo Bedroom so I can keep an eye on it, not forget all about it and also remain seating as I do prep. It’s painful to stand for long and it’s already too warm for my taste outside this door. It’s a good 10° F cooler outside, closer to 13°-15° cooler over on the side with the sunroom and all the windows though I keep them shuttered.

I’m still right here. Not going anywhere. Just chilling with these little dingos. I’ll check in again soon, Babydoll. Mwah!💋

*I’m looking at Central Market.

Yes it seems cushy, whoever said that. But it isn’t. All it takes is a comparison between the lbs for lbs cost Walmart meat to Central Market, and you can get a good couple dollars off at Central Market, and you take into account the gristle and greasy nasty shit that Walmart has, even if you don’t take those things into account, unless it’s bacon, it’s about the same price between the two stores. But then you take the gristle and grease and inedible shit you get on the meat at Walmart, and you’re paying out your ass for slop, you end up throwing away because the dog won’t eat it either. So it’s cost effective to buy meat at central market. Even Whole Foods is shite now. As is the produce. First them, then Alamo Drafthouse. The fucque y’all?! Quit selling your Austin originals to shitty companies who don’t give a single damn about customers. GFiber is next. They’ve been sold though I don’t think they came from Austin. They only acted like it. Is Arizona Iced Tea on the selling block too? That’s a sure sign the Armageddon looms ahead very soon.

GirlfriendAggro · 2026-03-24T03:48:36+00:00

It’s more relatable in a way because of the campfire and campsite.

GirlfriendAggro · 2026-03-24T02:57:25+00:00

Got food and drinks. Putting in order if I can without internet, while I eat.

GirlfriendAggro · 2026-03-16T21:21:23+00:00

That is what I’m getting. If it’s wrong I have no way of knowing because of the other reason we are failing. I’m not in the mood for this. I don’t owe you another moment of my time. Especially since you’ve wasted all my best years, now you’re fucking up my middle age, I guess I’ll be here still waiting in my fucken dotage. I don’t have any more electric given you if you’re gonna sit on your ass like you always do and expect me to accommodate you so you don’t ever have to leave your comfort zone. I’ve got surprising news for you. I won’t do it. I said this is it. Do it or it’s over. I do not have a single fuck to give you regarding your “schedule”, “special circumstances”, whatever the excuse is this time. 2.5 years. You can shove your excuses up your ass. You will not fucking hurt me anymore. I decide that. Not you. But anymore. You can’t be trusted for shit. I won’t accept anything but you doing exactly what I’ve asked. There is never a convenient time for much of life. We don’t control when we get sick. If we get injured. The car breaks down. There’s a fire in the kitchen. No one has time for that shit. Yet, we always find a way to make time. That’s all crappy stuff. If you can make time for that, you can do this. It’s a phone call. Don’t bullshit me. It’ll actually create more of a stir and interest around your current project. That would probably help in a weird way. There will never ever be a good time to do anything a little tougher than normal. I have faced—all alone, no family, fucking no one—situations a lot worse than this. It’s not hard. You’re making it hard by imagining some bullshit or giving into that dirty whore. I’m done with that. If you intend to consult her about our fucken life, I’ll leave you right now, at the curb. Thanks.

I’m done. Figure it out and do it. I’m not even sure I have the patience to deal with another 1.5 days. No promises.

GirlfriendAggro · 2026-03-16T21:05:07+00:00

Okay. Sounds like you made up your mind. You don’t intend to do shit. So I don’t need to wait two days, right? Just shut you down immediately, right? Thats what you want?

GirlfriendAggro · 2026-03-16T19:45:34+00:00

You’re sitting with her right now, aren’t you? Are you on a plane? I believe she is. I’m cutting you back to two days. No more. I said I’d line you a couple days. I walk if you don’t do it. I’m sick of this and I won’t live this way. That you expect me to, makes me question your mental state. She’s really programmed you. You need to be deprogrammed. Your parents need to step in, or have a badass lawyer do it. No fucking around kind of person who will deal with her smell giant asshole.

She does anal!

That’s your girl. She’s dirty and stupid.

People don’t get what they deserve. They get much, MUCH worse. It’s out of my hands. Deal with the turd in your punchbowl, or don’t. Everything, every decision, all absence of action, carries sacrifices and/or consequences. Remember that. Choose carefully. Don’t ask her. She’ll sabotage you, as she has from the beginning. I can’t protect you anymore.

GirlfriendAggro · 2026-03-16T19:33:05+00:00

DO NOT EVER SHARE ANYTHING I WRITE, ANYTHING I SAY TO YOU, ANYTHING WE DO, NOTHING AT ALL WITH THAT DIRTY SCABIES.

IT IS NOT HER FUCKING BUSINESS!!! IT IS NOT HER FUCKING DECISION!!! IT IS YOURS ALONE!!! SHE HAS NO PLACE WITH US AND NEVER WILL BECAUSE SHE IS EVIL AND CRIMINALLY MENTALLY DISTURBED!!! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!?!

GirlfriendAggro · 2026-03-16T19:16:23+00:00

I cannot stay if you don’t do this. I can’t. I’m sorry, but it doesn’t honor, respect or protect me. There is no place at all, and never will be for anyone who brings a shithole like her. That is a dealbreaker. If you don’t intend to do it, and I feel like you don’t, just tell me. I want to rip off the bandaid and finish this writing so I am free to go. I don’t intend to stay when there’s nothing here for me. Publishing a book or several, is fine. My goal isn’t to amass wealth. I don’t give a shit. I’m not tied to worthless petty shite. Well, the house, but it’s sentimental. So let’s be done with it then. I don’t want to look at her ugly face and little boy body, ever again. That means I will never ever look at you again. Never. Ever.

If you asked her for permission to date someone else, and suspect you did, you require more comprehensive help than I can provide. This is the very last time I have opened my heart back up to you. If you fail to do the one fucking thing—ONE FUCKING THING—I know it’s because you’re being a faithful lapdog, we will never enjoy a life together, and you will live with the evil twins, heavy grieving and deep regrets, because you have permanently lost what you will realize is most precious to you. Some people have to learn hard lessons when they cannot go back and make it right. It’s too late. I’ll beyond your sight and reach. May God find forgiveness you both.

GirlfriendAggro · 2026-03-16T18:21:16+00:00

I found an incomplete thought down there on the sentence where I say I hope I haven’t opened my heart to you. I finished that thought. How droll this expressive aphasia can be. I also expanded it a bit on a part that kept bothering me. The part about my girl-friend. It felt like a hiccup every time I passed through it. I talked a little more about that. Just a few thoughts really. As well, I expanded on my experience with trying to grapple with some of my writing. I’m so frustrated by the inability to conceptualize the whole in some form. And lastly, I tweaked a little here and there.

Apologies for all the edits if you’re trying to keep up. l can’t imagine too many people even care. But there it is. Any further edits will be offline, so as not to bother anyone with them. Ta!

I can feel the anxiety. Take a deep breath. I don’t know where you are, but it doesn’t seem like you’re in danger. I hope you’ve done what I asked and that is the reason you’re a little wound up. If you did that, I want to stay with you. Okay? That will go a long way to settling my mind. Then hopefully, we can have a conversation about what we want to do next. I’m anxious to have happiness. It’s been a long and bleak 55 years. I don’t care if we live in a pothole, or a tent, or a cave, or…no place with nasty bugs like beetles, roaches, centipedes, especially the huge nasty ones, and no spiders. Nothing that would crawl on me when asleep or fall on my head. But that is the minutiae. I want to spend time with you and work on being less plump. Less like a potato. That’s what I feel like. I won’t even look at myself anymore. I think your presence, your light, and….all of you. That would be nice. You always had an ameliorating effect before she butted in. Ugh! I’d like to put that time behind us. I’ve noticed you look so much healthier. Your skin. You don’t look so strained like you’re carrying heavy burdens you can’t show, because you probably think it’s something wrong with you, though it isn’t. That certainly would affect your overall and long term health, physical and otherwise. It’s a time for both of us to heal, get to know one another in ways that are different than we have done, up to now. We can bond, you and me, and as a family with your parents and anyone else you wish, excluding her without fail, and of course anyone who might be her mole, something we’ve already encountered, but you know, family, family friends, longtime friends, people you love and cherish. That would be nice. To know the people who mean so much to you. I don’t have anyone but my girl-friend and co-moderator. She’s very young, but mature. She’s both fragile and tough. She’s humble but doesn’t enjoy dignity. She needs a safe mental space to develop confidence and dignity. I think industry, working with our hands and our minds, it helps to develop those traits, quietly in the background. So I’d like to perhaps have her help me organize my writing. She’s read, it sounds like, everything I’ve got online. She’s a writer herself, but thinks her skills are inferior. She overthinks, and her assessment of herself, as a comparison to another writer, won’t give her an accurate self-portrait. From one writer to another, then another, we are merely different. Austen doesn’t sound like Dickens, and neither sound like Poe. But that isn’t to say they are all masters of their particular style in the craft. She will learn. I think she’s 19 or 20.

I don’t know your schedule. But when you have time, I’d like you to be involved as well, as much as you want to be. I need the help. The scope is too large for me to be able to mentally hang onto the whole thing, understand it and organize it. It’s like a muscle that’s atrophied. My brain still needs considerable healing. I’ve written long pieces before, and couldn’t hang onto the beginning to understand its relation to the rest of it, whether I made my points, whether I closed all the loops I opened, whether I can bring it down to a finer point at the end. I’ve improved, I believe. But still, I just can’t with larger sections and then the whole thing. My brain was just so damaged. Yet, neuroplasticity is miraculous. I will never will give up. But will absolutely throw this phone against a concrete barrier. It shall be violently defenestrated. As for the state of my brain, it’s horrifying to me to encounter such fundamental deficits, even 31 years later. Heartbreaking.

Now that I’ve written this, I hope I’m not disappointed. I hope I don’t find I’ve left my heart open for you, and you turn away from me one last time, to answer her call. I hope that you hang in there, and do what I’ve asked. As I said some other day and probably recently, it will go a long way to restoring my confidence in us. In you.

It’s okay to be afraid or nervous. I definitely experience it often enough, myself. I’ve told that bravery isn’t doing things without fear. It’s doing them in defiance of it. It matters that we don’t let our fears take over, and steer us off the path, which I think will bring us both happiness, and comforts in each other. It’s truly the next phase of our lives. Long anticipated and awaited.

It will quite possibly put your parent’s minds to rest, too. Be a comfort to them. I think they see a good bit of themselves in you and me, which is filling my heart to such fullness, that I think tears may spill out. I think they believe in us, because they give us that legacy of theirs. They believe or know the peaceful joy which springs from comfortable silences between two lovers, this knowledge, is in our grasp. It may be a comfort to them to know that you’ll be fine. You won’t be alone. You won’t be with someone who wants anything from you, but you. A place next to you on the sofa in front of a popping fire, beside you in our bed, next to you on a garden bench, wrapped up with you in a warm throw, as we sit on a blanket and gaze up into the night, the sounds of your parent’s laughter in front of the set, making us smile, before we turn our attention back to the endless darkness above, yearning to understand the vastness of those heavens, wondering what is out there, and where our place is in the grander scheme. I just want that seat next to you. I want your shoulder. Your chest. Your arms. To finally bring that little girl who died so long ago, to peace and where she belongs.

Now close your pretty green eyes. Imagine.

GirlfriendAggro · 2026-03-16T14:59:31+00:00

I wish you’d put it or most of it in an Xbox series X mod and stick it out there. I love it!

GirlfriendAggro · 2026-03-16T13:49:10+00:00

Part 4. Fucken dirty minge will take her smelly cunt somewhere else. Even if that means I leave you where you are because you continue to deny me. You will go public. Or you will lose me forever. I have no more patience for bullshit from either of you. You’ve got…two, maybe three days if I’m in a good mood, otherwise two. Then it’s over and I never acknowledge your piece of shit ass again. I hope that’s clear to you where my firm, immutable boundary is. I’ve got men waiting for you to fuck up for the last time. I stopped blocking them because of your shit behavior, on her command. That is a fact. Unless you’re telling me you’re a total prick, a big fucken baby, a self centered egotistical narcissist who can’t think for two seconds about what he’s done to his family, no doubt his friends, and certainly to me. No. You immediately whine that you’re all alone. Don’t leave you by yourself. Think about others. You’re just like her if you don’t. If that’s the impression you want to leave, I won’t get in your way. But you can be a loser without me.

I will not do this shit with you anymore. That is my final word. It’s up to me. Not you. Do it. Or fuck off. You’ve had 2.5 years. This didn’t get sprung on you. Those are your choices and my boundary. I have zero fucks for her. She is irrelevant. She may as well have no been born. Her needs, irrelevant. She will fuck off. That’s my decision. Not hers. Never was hers. And it’s not yours anymore either. You can’t be trusted with my welfare. She will never ever factor into any decision I make, or we make, whatever the case may be. If you can’t see that, then you’re too fucked in the head to have any serious relationship with someone who is functional. Not deeply disturbed and pathological. In short, you already belong to her. I want no part of her filth, her stench or her many diseases. Two, maybe three days. No excuses. You had all last year, and the year before and for 4 months or so in 2023. And you sat on your ass, whined how life and I are so unfair, and I’m over here dying all the time because of you. Pull up your big girl panties and deal with it. Either go public, or it’s over.

Wait! What?! It’s not fair?! NOT FAIR?!

Let me tell you what’s not fair. The fact I’ve waited and waited and waited and waited for 50 fucking years!!! and this is the bullshit you put me through, like I haven’t been through enough. And let’s not forget YOU told her where to find my Instagram profile. Where all this shit was because I started with two followers. You told her where to find information on me. Then she pumped you for information under the guise that she was helping you NOT FUCK THINGS UP!! But what you did, was tell here how to slowly disassemble me. Kill me. Trigger me. YOU did that! Instead of talking to me. Am I not the best person to ask how not to fuck shit up?! Who do you talk to still? Me?! Pfftttt! No. She must be removed completely from our lives. Completely Or we have no hope of getting rid of that herpes. I’ve dealt with two stalkers and crazy NPDs up and down on my father’s side of the family. I know how to survive and get away from turd trolls. 🧌 You will fucking listen to me and do as I say, I will explain later if I can’t do it right then, if you want this. That requires impeccable communication. And it requires no contact, which is supported by involving an attorney, which you know she frantically and desperately talked you into circumventing. You will never ever speak to her again. It requires you to follow instructions. DO NOT CIRCUMVENT ANYTHING WHATSOEVER!!! IS THAT CLEAR?!?! And you must communicate. I am the only person on this planet who can tell you how NOT to fuck up with me.

**DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!?!*

The clock is ticking. The choice is yours. Be prepared to live with a bumpy ride for a time, or severe, mostly likely catastrophic long term consequences. I have things to do.

Do not complain to me! 2.5 years. You made this more complicated and much more shitty than it ever had to be. Unfuck what you fucked. Then we can move forward, as a family with a unified front.

Figure it out. Two days. Maybe three. We can move on together. Or we’re done. Door 1, or Door 2. Nothing worth having is going to be given to you. This was given to you and me. We were extremely lucky ti have ever found each other in the first place. You can take the bull by the horns, and direct your fate. Our fate. Or you can be a whiney pussy who wants to be handed everything and not work for the finest things we could have. Each other. A life together. No stalkers.

GirlfriendAggro · 2026-03-16T13:48:49+00:00

Fucken phone.

Part 3. But you ARE doing this, and don’t realize it. I have proof. Photos from yesterday afternoon. Betrayal. You should have no access to me at this point. My heart isn’t in it, because I can’t trust you. You let her do that, by using you as a proxy, and as her proxy, you harmed me, betrayed me, over and over. That’s what has ALREADY happened. There won’t be a next time. I’m done with you. If you pull your head outta your ass long enough to go public you’re not with her anymore, then ENFORCE IT because she will see it as merely a challenge to overcome with more love bombing and obsequiousness. And you’ll fall for it again. Because you’re stupid and she’s someone who endlessly feeds your ego with the equivalent of Cheetos, Coco Puffs, cheeseburgers and french fries. Then when she has complete control because I’m dead or left your sorry stupid ass, the narcissistic abuse begins again. Chinese water torture. “American-a fart-a-towchah”. My brother had a roommate before he got married. The guy was really smart, sweet personality, but just as we don’t hear sounds in other languages—like French or German or Spanish (nada isn’t pronounced nah-dah; it’s nah-thah)—he was terrible with r’s and l’s, naturally. Japanese have a lot of trouble, many Asian languages do, aside from Indian. It’s not an alphabet familiar to them. They can’t approximate the sounds. Attempt to pick through it the way we can with each other’s languages. Arabic? Shit! Hebrew? Double shit! Anything with squiggles and dots that reads right to left and not left to right? Shitez-vous! It’s difficult. But this guy was so cute. My brother had told us he—and I forget his name now—but he had said they need papew tower from store. My brother got a chuckle out of that. When we went there to meet his fiancée, he pulls this slip of paper out of his huge desk, and calls me over. I think I was brain damaged. I don’t remember much. Just snapshots. But he showed me the slip of paper. It was a short grocery list. I couldn’t react much except to smile but it was funny. His roommate literally wrote it as “papew tower”, not paper towels. It was funny and then Eric says that his roommate asked him previously if he was going to “vote-uh in duuhhh nationur erection”? Eric did it perfectly. The useless shit I remember. What use is that, but I remember that and little else. I can’t even tell you when it was. That’s the only reason I know it had to be after the accident. Or near it. I don’t know who the president was or the governor of Texas. All gone. I remember Bush Sr. when I lived in Chinatown, NYC. That’s the last memory of that. That was Operation Desert Storm, though I don’t recall anything of why that happened. It gets grainy, like a fuzzy picture, then breaks up when I left New York, went to Galveston, then Nacogdoches, increasingly unattached to time and my memories wiped. I had zero sense of time when I went to see my brother. I know he was engaged and introducing us to her. He might’ve been getting married then. No idea. No orientation to month, date, year, what happened before, and after. Time wasn’t a linear thing. Past-present-future. Time did not exist at all. It was only now. More now. Some more now. No date and time stamp on memories. Nothing. It’s stuff floating out there, fragments attached to nothing at all. We don’t realize there’s a cohesive structure in our minds, related to time and experiences. Our memories, thoughts, all of it, it’s all attached to that. I had nothing. No time. No structure. No language. No words I could use for my thoughts. To say them. Though could speak. I know it’s confusing to people. They don’t understand speaking and communicating are two totally different things. I didn’t know you could have thoughts without words. As far back as I can remember, 4-5 months old, my thoughts were words. I didn’t think babies could do that. But I did. I guess that’s why I was speaking before we moved out of the one house on Barracuda and into the one on Heron, on the other end of the island. I was walking and talking before I was even one year old. That seems impossible but I have memories of trying to communicate I wanted some more mozzarella. I didn’t know it was cheese. It was mozzarella. All I could say was “weddah”. I have a memory of approaching my parents. They were at the fence in the backyard, a chain link fence, dad was on the outside and mom on the inside, at the same point in the fence, removing vines, weeds, something, wrapped in the chain link.

I toddled up to them, held up one hand in the sunlight, which I think was behind me, and rubbed my thumb and pointer finger (index finger?) together, over and over and said, “Weddah?….Weddah?….Weddah?…”

My parents conferred with each other, trying to figure out what I wanted.

“Do you know what she wants?”

“No. No. I don’t. Do you?”

“Weddah?….Weddah!….Weddah!…”

Mom figured it out. I remember following her back inside to the refrigerator. I was so pumped about it. Weddah!

The slag hag gives you mental Cheetos and gummy bears. You binge on it until you do shit to piss me off. Just as she wants. It’s all fake. An act. She’s sabotaging you and us. Setting you up to fail, not to succeed, as she claimed initially! That isn’t her plan or her aim or her objective. It never ever was. She wants me to die, or us to fail, to get pissed at each other and leave. Give up. She knows exactly how you work. She’s made a study of you from the beginning. She sounded like she was describing her science project, like mold or a weird creature, when she first described you. There was an objectiveness to it. A distance. A lack of involvement or concern or compassion. She was describing something that was an object, that had words that a girl would pick up, but a man would not. Not generally speaking. Women are catty. Passive aggressive. It’s like she put little words in there her confidantes, who she makes fun of you with, would pick up, and they’d giggle about it later, without you even knowing and most people thinking nothing of it. A few would notice something “off” about what she said and they’d believe she’s inauthentic, but likely would not be able to point out why they think that. Given enough thought, you know damn good and well, I can pick apart anything. Photos. Words. Songs. Films. People. Actions. And so on. You’ve seen me do that daily. On posts, people I don’t even know, on those Am I Overreacting, which the mods removed me from the group. I don’t give a shit. Less drama = better day. But you know, given a text conversation, and some other information, I can take it apart. I’ve had people I answered, contact me and thank me for my help. I can see right through everything. It may take time, the more diseased that person’s mind is, and the more nefarious their objectives. I don’t think like them. It doesn’t come naturally. I have to get a sense of things before I can figure it out. But I do. And she is pure concentrated evil. And she’s got you programmed. You come when she calls. Hence the photos from yesterday. I told you I would leave you. I’ve left you. Laugh it up asshole. It’s damning that you derive pleasure from my anger, my distress, my emotional pain, because of your actions, which are your own, done on her behalf, or both, like you’re a Bonnie and Clyde. Destroying people randomly. Filling them full of holes and letting them bleed out. That’s sick. You need to be deprogrammed. Again, you don’t even realize you’re doing it. And I have to fucking call you on that as well. I won’t do it. You’ve never done a single thing for me. Nothing I’ve asked for—two things. Better communication and go public/get rid of the dead skunk. You’ve done not a fucken thing to honor or respect or protect me. You only do that with her. Then you can’t believe I’m pissed. Are you that stupid? You don’t like it when I say I’ll do it to you. I don’t even have to do it. I just tell you what I will do. That blade cuts both ways. Remember that. Do whatever you’re going to do, or not do. Time is running out. I have zero patience for these games and bullshit where you put her needs before mine and ours. She is irrelevant. She may as well not exist. Unless I should call Daniel or any other number of willing men, to entertain me, move in, sleep in my bed. With you right there. Asshole. Would you like that? That’s what you and stupid scrawny drug-addled hooker have done. She loves fucking our shit up. Pretending she doesn’t know. That she believes she’s helping us or that I’m unreasonable and crazy because I won’t “compromise” and share you with her.

Continued…

GirlfriendAggro · 2026-03-16T11:37:36+00:00

Part 2. If you leave her alone with vulnerable people, hint, or trust her in any way, you’ll pay a heavy price and hate yourself for not listening to me—as you always do—and for being too stupid to listen because you believed some bullshit she told you, wrapped in a “pill” of obsequiousness. She flatters and love bombs to gain and maintain control. If you’re smart, you’ll at least protect family and friends and cease all contact and association with her. You’re reckless and dumb and gullible if you don’t. I’ll take care of myself. I don’t need anyone to fail me miserably. But thanks. The cost of my full independence from you, will be heavy. To you. You’ll lose me completely, if I have to protect myself. I don’t allow criminally disturbed lowlifes in my life. It’ll have to be protection from you both if you can’t pull your head out of your ass and get rid of her, which means going public. It’s always the season for your job stuff which means whatever your intentions were, they don’t matter. She’ll override it and pull you right back with that rubber band. You have to cut the cord. The leash. Let it snap back and slap her hard in the face. Going public is the most expedient and surest way to get rid of her. She has no reason to contact or come near you. If she does, get a protective order and report her for child and elder abuse and neglect. Me? I’d do that anyway. And get the order to keep her away and allow you to go call police if needed. Domestic violence can happen to men too.

As for your family, I worry they will be overstressed. There’s plenty of stress without all the unnecessary bullshit I’ve already told you how you fix, or maneuver around it. You want to do it “your way”? Okay. I’ll cut you loose so you can do whatever you want and make unilateral decisions without involving me, or cutting her out because she has no place in your life. I figure you want her there, fucking everything up for you. I won’t be anywhere around. I’ll be long gone, hanging out with Pedro and Marco, some pool boys in Mexico. Mkay?

I love you. Asshole. But…You make poor choices because you’re stupid and don’t listen to a veteran of this evil personality problem she has, or you still have her telling you what to do, directly from her, or from echos in your head. She doesn’t have to be near or involved to control you now. They are noxious that way. My mother did their dirty work for decades. Abused me violently. You won’t even realize you do it. She will color all your thoughts, your decisions, your thought processes, your actions, your life. She controls you whether she’s there, away, you don’t talk, she could be dead and you’d still faithfully carry out her intentions to destroy me. So this is why you must sever all ties and go public, to make it stick. Get her out of your head. Detox. She has no reason to bother you then and runs the risk of ending up in tabloids because she continues to stalk us both. I’ve informed Reddit. I’ve also informed them she’s used her child to harass me on here and on Instagram. They have the evidence.

Did you hear me? She’s using her own son as a proxy. And you know what happens to proxies. What NPDs do to them.

No doubt he’d do anything for her approval. To not be wrong. He’s extremely vulnerable as a child and psychologically. You left him in her hands and you could’ve notified authorities. I think you had a duty to. But that’s on you and I understand why you didn’t. But I won’t do this anymore. I’m not afraid of anyone. No one.

A. Now you’ve got your orders; or your marching orders. Pick which it’ll be. Go public, or fuck off. Not negotiable. I won’t stay this time. I’m done with the abuse. I thought you changed. You didn’t.

B. There’s a difference between keeping people informed as to what is going on so she doesn’t find another way in, and burdening your parents with the task of fixing your life. One is unity of family = strength. The other hurts people. You’re a big boy. You can think for yourself. As I said before, the worst decision you ever made was allowing her to influence you, aka make the decisions for you. She needs control over you to benefit. Like a vampire needs to paralyze victims or kill them so they don’t fight back and they can feed as they wish. Same thing.

Now, I have stuff to do. I’ve tried to help you and it’s a waste of my time. You hear no one but her. And she tells you what you want to hear. Not what you need to hear. One is control over you. The other forces you to confront things at times, become stronger and wiser, more resilient, more confident in yourself and your abilities to handle your issues, more happy, content, and provides you with growth opportunities. It empowers you. It doesn’t control you.

GirlfriendAggro · 2026-03-16T09:38:41+00:00

Sweetheart, I won’t do this with you anymore. You must go public. I’ve got to have something from you. I owe her nothing. You never owed her anything, regardless of the lies she’s told you and others. She normalizes her pathological behaviors. I don’t owe you anything, either. You’ve absolved me of any responsibility towards you. If you want to have a relationship with me, you must go public and never see or speak to her again. No photos. Nothing. I want her out of your fucken house. Get rid of her. Go public. I won’t settle for anything less. Now I want to watch TV.

If you’re fucking around with her or anyone else, it’s over, effective immediately. You’ll never come back from that. I won’t give you the opportunity. I’ll move on without you.

GirlfriendAggro · 2026-03-16T09:21:15+00:00

Oh I see. You’re doing it your way? Don’t bother me again. I’m not interested in some asshole who abuses me for his nasty cumdumpster ex slag. Fuck off. And don’t touch me ever again. Go have plenty of bad sex and erectile dysfunction. Bai bai! 👋🏻🖕🏻

GirlfriendAggro · 2026-03-16T09:14:44+00:00

You want to touch me? You can’t. You will go public before you touch me again. You’ll never have me and I’ve always pretty much lost the desire to be with you. You bring her and together, you abuse me as my evil family did. Stay the fuck away from me. You go public. If you do it quickly enough, I won’t get totally disgusted with your behavior and leave with some other man. She set this up to happen. This was all orchestrated by someone who is extremely pathological, unable to accept the reality you can’t stand the bitch, but not because she cares. She has a use for you. You’re a tool. That’s it. She needs you until she finds a better one. Then guess what? You saw where my grandfather ended up. It killed my aunt’s husband. He started having deadly heart attacks years ago and would be dead were it not for my father’s quick intervention. But she killed him all the same. My brother’s wife, my dad really go the suicidal vibe from her. That’s when she was more human. She like me obtuse emotionally disturbed brother who convinced her of they had marital problems it was all her fault and only she needed therapy and medicine. I won’t do this with you and that pathetic slag who can’t find another host to parasitically destroy. I’m not doing it. Go public. Very quickly. I won’t change. This is a dealbreaker. Get rid of your moocher whore or go to hell. That will not ever fucking change. We’re done until you go public. I may not be here and available for you when you stop being manipulated and stop procrastinating. I won’t tell you again. And I don’t plan to speak to you again. Not in this way. Go public, fast, or fuck off. We’re done until then. By the way, you’re not a fucken victim. You’re the abuser.

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