He haunts me.

It’s been roughly 2 years and 2 months since The Neighbor came over to stay the night and instead told me he wanted a break and ended our 3 year long roller-coaster relationship.

Two years and 2 months of driving past his building and seeing his car every. single. fucking. day.

Two years and 2 months of walking to the office or the pool or the gym and, knowing I could run into him, walked that stiff, cameras-are-on-me walk.

Two years and 2 months of never letting my guard down when I go out, of scanning every room quickly to assess his presence.

Two years and 2 months of keeping my head down while I grocery shop because it’s better to be truly ignorant than it is to feign it.

Two years and two months of him visiting my AFF profile and leaving a digital trail.

It’s also been two years and two months since I’ve had the kind of sex that made my body vibrate and weep with abandon.

Two years and two months since I laid my hands on a rock-hard, big, beautiful, long and achingly curved cocked.

Two years and two months since I thought anyone loved me.

Two years and two months is a long time.

The pain has faded, as it is supposed to do, but it’s like stale, lingering perfume.  No matter how much I’ve scrubbed it remains.

I’ve allowed myself to mourn, pushed myself forward, carefully kept an eye on what I need.  I go to therapy every week and write more words about heartbreak than I care to own.  And still, he lingers.

He lingers because I am not truly free.  His specter haunts me via his proximity, his fancy black car, even his downtown office.  And most of all, he haunts me because I feel violated.

I feel violated that he visits my profile and knowingly leaves the proof of his presence.

He could switch to invisible browsing at the very least (it’s how I operate the site) or he could just choose to leave me the fuck alone all together.

I blocked him for several weeks to give myself a respite from his stalking, to not see him in my visitor’s list, and it felt good, like taking my vitamins — this was good for me, after all.  And then I felt like I didn’t need it anymore, like, surely by now I’d be out of his regular AFF routine or maybe he’d have just realized how inappropriate it was and stopped altogether.  So I unblocked him.

But I was wrong.

Within 36 hours he visited.

And I was crushed.

I wanted it to be over, to not have to be the one to impose a protective shield.  I want him to leave me alone because he wants to leave me alone.  Not because I’ve blocked him.

It’s the difference between getting a restraining order and knowing there’s an outside force imposing reasonable thought to someone and your stalker moving on on his own.  One feels less safe than the other, I assure you.

The fact that he indulges in his curiosity — or whatever the fuck it is — makes my skin crawl and traps me in this static, hovering place.  I feel smothered, vulnerable, sad, confused, angry, violated.

Isn’t it enough that despite making 6 figures annually and having all the financial freedom in the world he chooses to remain at the gates of my life?  That he hasn’t fucking moved away?  I just signed my 3rd lease.  Surely his next will be the one he chooses to not renew, right?  Does he also have to infringe on my online world, too??

He could even be reading this blog and I wouldn’t know since I never tracked his IP address when I had the chance.  He could be one of the 20 or so local readers last week for all I know.  I hope he does read it.  At least here I feel in control.

I don’t know how to exorcise myself of him and I feel cloaked in his dysfunctional fog on two fronts: my life in general and my love life.

Will he be at this restaurant with a date?  My new gym?  Will I ever get to have the kind of sex we shared again?  Will I always know what I’m missing?

It doesn’t matter that I have told myself exactly what I’d say or do if I ever ran into him, I still have to think about it in the first place.  It’s a part of me I constantly don’t have; it’s always running to protect myself.

He is everywhere and I hate it.  And I hate that I hate it.

All in pieces.


A 40-something single mother who writes honestly about sex, body image, D/s, relationships, her nervous tics, and how much she loves to fucking fuck. She also likes to show you her tits.

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20 thoughts on “He haunts me.
  1. He sounds like an emotional terrorist. Maybe even a narcissist… What they thrive on, is that it bothers you. They want to make sure that you know that they exist so they can keep a thread of control. Love it acceptance… acceptance of who someone is and who someone isn’t. Love does not and is not supposed to make you feel bad. Sometimes people do things that are harmful… we are all assholes and sometimes we get lucky and choose to do the right thing long enough to be a contribution to each other. I understand how sex is easily attached to love… especially when it blows your skirt off! But so much of life dilutes the experience between two people… porn, multiple dates, the internet, etc… because we don’t have to fully connect. When we numb ourselves with being busy and distract ourselves with the potential of greener grass… we compare and lose out on the present. (basis of ZEN) I have no advice… I hope you find what is important to you and you go do it… behavior is what gets you where you are… behavior is what will get you out. It starts with the being… Be, Do and then Have… Be what you want to be in the world… Loved, Compassionate, etc… and then do what that kind of person does… and that is what you will have. btw… you are loved.

  2. It is hard to change. It’s hard when you are young and hard when you are older. You must remember, if you are going to get a good start on change, that a piece of the world is his, as well as yours.

  3. Someone asked me not long ago why do I keep feeding the ex my energy. He doesn’t deserve it, surely. I need to live my life for me, not depending on what I think he would say or do.
    I do understand the difference between the restraining order and the free will analogy you made.
    I don’t have an answer to all this either. All I know is that now I am more aware of the energy I feed him and can try and stop it everytime. But it’s hard.
    Hugs Hy.

    1. Love you, Dawn. Yes, it’s so easy to tell someone to, “Just let it go,” than it is to live it yourself. I don’t think many in my situation would feel all that differently really, or even yours. I’ve been divorced for 6/7 years and my ex is still a drag on my resources from time to time (I divorced him for a reason, after all, and he’s been a fucking shit ever since he met his wife – can’t NOT respond to that, you know?? Particularly when children are involved. But I digress..). All this to say, it’s still and effort and that’s what I need to stop hating. More even than the effort itself. At least I think that’s what I need to do… xx

  4. Hi Hyacinth. It’s also been two years and two months of you living in fear. I agree that that’s a long time. I’m also assuming that the clock is still ticking, and it won’t be long before it’ll be three years for all those things you mentioned, especially the one about thinking that anyone loves you. Then four, and five, and so on. I can’t urge you strongly enough to get off this path as it will continue to affect you, more and more deeply as time goes on. At least it has for me, as I’ve been on it for much longer than you have. There’s no doubt that The Neighbour is a total arsehole, and it’s a shame his oxygen privileges haven’t been revoked. Whilst I don’t believe for one second that these words will provide you with any comfort, you can add me to the list of people who do genuinely hope that you return to feeling loved, that your body again vibrates and weeps with abandon, and that the kind of fear you’re experiencing becomes a distant memory.

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