The Nightmare Journey From Hell

I want to tell you about something which happened to me on 21 December, 2008.
I spent amongst the longest four and a half hours of my life embarking on and enduring a nightmare journey of hell with two of the most carelessly abusive people I have ever had the misfortune to come across.   The fact that they were women made it easier for them to gain my trust before they bashed it to pieces.  

But they reminded me in spades that men do not have a monopoly on being abusive fucks.   They reminded me that women are every bit as capable of being abusive fucks as well.

As an aside, both women identify themselves as female supremacists.   From they way they abused the fuck out of me, I’m thinking that their interpretation of “female supremacist” must mean something I don’t know about, since they clearly don’t include  all  women in their idea of “supreme”.

Perhaps they intend “female supremacist” to mean something more like “themselves-and-a-few-friends supremacist”.

However they mean it, I’m sure this isn’t the first time anybody used a belief system as an attempt to disguise abuse.
Their transgressions

  • Obtaining my consent under false pretenses
  • Failure to deliver on a freely undertaken and repeatedly given promise
  • Demanding extra gratitude for ultimately falling short of delivering on that promise
  • Unlawful incarceration
  • Inappropriate invasion of privacy

In the interests of brevity, I am going to recount my experiences as if all of the offenses were perpetrated by one individual, instead of two.   But I assure you, there were two.   They both perpetrated the abuse more or less equally between them.   So for simplicity, I’ll just describe it as if they were one, as they were often acting in concert.

I am also not including all of the vileness.   I’m just covering the actual transgressions and their circumstances.

The Background Details

A dominant woman invited me most pressingly and enthusiastically to visit her at her home.   She lived approximately 165 miles from my location.   The plan was for me to arrive at her home on the Friday, for a party on the Saturday night.   She volunteered to come and collect me in a car and drive me from my place to hers, and to drive me back afterwards.

I reiterated several times beforehand that I had non-negotiable travel plans.   These necessitated my  prompt  return to my point of origin  by noon on Sunday at the latest  to catch my transport, for which I had non-refundable, non-exchangeable tickets.

I knew that accepting her invitation would mean extra travelling for me, extra schlepping of myself and my bags, and extra tiredness for me due to my reduced rest time prior to my journey on the Sunday.   I was really tempted to decline her invitation in order to remain within close range of my travel commitments.   However, she freely undertook to drive me there and back, and to ensure my safe and prompt return.

So I accepted her invitation.

    In other words,  my consent to go to the extra trouble and effort of accepting her invitation was based entirely on her firm undertaking to drive me there and back in time to fulfill my travel commitments.

Due to bad weather, on the night before she was due to collect me, she changed her mind and asked that I take a train down to her city.   A journey by train meant more effort on my part to get myself down to her.   Still, she reiterated her promise to have me promptly back in time to meet my travel commitments.   So although I wasn’t happy about it, I consented to the train journey.

I found out later that she had made no special arrangements for the return journey to account for the weather, which would inevitably extend our travel time.

The party on Saturday night ran very late, as expected.   The morning I was due to return, she overslept and I had to wake her.   As my concern for meeting my travel commitments grew, she posed a worrying question  –

    “How late can you be for this transport, is an hour too late?”
    (an  hour?!!   um, excuse me whilst I beat my head in with a mallet)

Whilst wondering how she wasn’t able to work this out for herself, I explained that since there would be many other passengers on this transport, and since it was a commercial journey, “late” meant that I would miss it permanently without hope of reprieve.


Without spending too much time wondering on which planet she thought that commercial journey departure times were negotiable(?!), I was otherwise distracted as I watched her leave the water running at full force whilst she brushed her teeth away from the taps, left her house door wide open on a freezing cold winter’s day with the heat on full blast whilst she puttered around with her belongings, and left her car running for upwards of half an hour with nobody in it.

Eventually, we did depart on our journey, at a time which would have made me late even in good weather.

My Nightmare Journey Of Hell

It was fortunate that I had a mobile phone number for one of the people on the bus, so I borrowed the woman’s mobile phone to ring to let him know that I was on my way, that I would be there as soon as possible, and please not to leave without me.

    (that part becomes important later on)

As she drove, the woman became more and more panicked as the time of my departure approached.   And the more she panicked, the less she was able to think and behave sensibly.   Unfortunately, effective self-management whilst in this state did  not  appear to be one of the skills she had learnt in her 47+ years of life.

Once we arrived within the city limits of my point of departure, her panic escalated exponentially.   She was well out of control.   Although she was not familiar with this city, I knew it well.   Even though she was  well  aware how well I knew it, for some reason unbeknownst to me, she completely disregarded all of my directions.   She totally ignored me as if I were a ghost whom she couldn’t see or hear.  

Instead, she asked random pedestrians for directions.   Whilst the directions from the random pedestrians were perfectly good  if we were pedestrians, they consistently failed to take account of the one way streets which a driver would need to know.

    Despite my schlepping myself down at her pressing and enthusiastic invitation, despite my inconveniencing myself at her request, despite my getting a train down when she’d promised to drive me, despite my consent based entirely on her previous undertakings to deliver me promptly to my travel commitments, despite her subsequent failure to do so, and despite the fact that she was ignoring me as if I weren’t there, at this point she seemed oddly more interested in demanding my gratitude than in fulfilling her freely undertaken obligations.



Escaping From A Moving Car

At one point we were quite close to the station.   However, due to her total disregard of my directions on at least eight occasions, we were getting further and further away, and time was quickly passing.

She disregarded my final request to keep going straight and to refrain from making a wrong turn, which she made anyhow.

    I asked her to stop the car and let me out.

    She ignored me and drove on.

    I asked her again to stop the car and let me out.

    Again, she ignored me.

    I opened the car door whilst the car was still moving, and repeated my request to stop the car and let me out.

    She drove on without a word.

    I opened the door wider so that her car door would be damaged on parked cars if she continued her forward motion, and again, with increasing urgency, asked her to stop the car and let me out.

      (that was  four  times I had to ask her to stop and let me out)

    She stopped the car.   Finally.

I jumped out, ran round to the boot, opened it, and began removing my belongings.   She was shouting at me, trying to get me to return to the car, claiming that I couldn’t get myself to my transport alone.
“Watch me.”   says I.

    (I cannot understand what kind of derangement would lead her to think that she could persuade me back into her car when less than a minute before I had been trying to escape from her moving vehicle.   I mean, what kind of fucked up chance in hell was there that I’d get back in that car when she wouldn’t let me out of it before?!)  


Without asking me, she waved down a taxi, and indicated to the driver that he was to collect my bags and put them in his car.

I apologised to the taxi driver, told him that we were having a dispute, and that despite her protestations, I did not require his services.

    (I thought it was quite unfair of her to waste the taxi driver’s time like that, whilst attempting to unconsensually use him as a tool in her dispute, and unconsensually foist him and his taxi on me)


You Want To Fix Something?   Fix THIS.

Bizarrely, the woman was now demanding to know how she could “fix” the situation, when I’d been giving her that information all along.   Had she paid due regard to the information I’d given, there would have been nothing to fix.  

    Unfortunately, she didn’t seem capable of appreciating that this situation was  not about her.  

I’m guessing that when she is in her panicked state, she isn’t capable of hearing information spoken calmly, and can only take in information which is shouted.   I’d given up trying to deal with her rationally when I’d had to escape from her moving car.   It was obviously way too late for her to “fix” anything.

At this stage, my  sole  interest was to get myself to my transport before it departed.   I had  zero  interest in molly-coddling this abusive woman’s neuroses just to help her feel better about abusing me.   Thanks to her, I just didn’t have time for that.

Since I was less interested in her emotional comfort than I was in making my travel commitments, I put my things together and began heading for the station.   After schlepping nearly half a mile, I made it to my transport, which thankfully  (and unbelievably)  had waited for me.

I then found out that the woman had used the redial function on her phone to ring up the person I’d rung on the bus, whom she did not know, to ask him to provide her with information about whether I’d caught the transport.

    I don’t think I need to tell you that just as it was inappropriate to unconsensually use the taxi driver as a tool in her dispute, it was just as clearly inappropriate for her to  invade my privacy by ringing a third party whom she didn’t know, to ask them to provide her with information about me.  

    If she’d honestly just wanted to know if I’d caught the transport, she could have appropriately asked  me.   But she didn’t then, nor did she at any time after that.

This woman has been a pro dom for 16+ years.   My concerns about her had been growing ever since she changed her plans to collect me at the last minute, and were increased when I observed her repeatedly disregarding the use of safewords at her party.   But I had no idea how emotionally impaired and dangerous she was until she unconsensually imprisoned me in her car, and then acted as if that were perfectly acceptable behaviour.

Disregarding safewords, gaining consent under false pretenses with carelessly offered and undelivered promises, unconsensual use of third parties as tools in disputes, and unconsensual incarceration in a car are not acceptable behaviours in my universe.   I don’t understand how her universe can include those behaviours as acceptable, not even in any wildest fantasies.   I’m sure if I imprisoned her in a car, she’d sure as fuck have something to say about it.   At any rate, whether those behaviours are acceptable to her or not, I don’t need people like that in my life.   I don’t intend to have any further contact with her or her universe.



Although I’m home now, and am feeling very much better now than I was on that day, that experience seriously fucked me up for two days.   And I am still feeling the effects ten days later.

Just for your information, the last time I cried was something like seven years ago.   Kvetch has never seen me cry.   I don’t cry often.   This is important to know, because I cried for nearly the entire three hour journey after I was forced to escape from that moving car.   I continued crying after I arrived, and for most of the following day.

It takes a fuckload of trauma to get me to cry.   And those women did it by simple inaction:

  • failing to respect my consent
  • failing to deliver on her promise
  • failing to release me from her car  (by unlawfully incarcerating me)

Their near-total self-absorption is almost incidental, except that without it, I don’t think they could have successfully convinced themselves that their behaviour was in any way acceptable.

Just to be clear, I feel quite certain that these women had no intentions whatsoever of being abusive.   And they would probably deny right now that they were in fact abusive.   However,  their lack of intent and subsequent denial does not exempt their carelessness, inconsistency, and total disregard for anything I was saying from being abusive.

Due to the unpredictable nature of these women’s emotional impairments and related behaviours, I have refrained from identifying them in this post in the interests of my own safety.   If I did not feel that I was at risk from them, then I would have identified them as per my BDSM Horror Stories post, as well as per my personal rules about speaking out.   I may identify them publicly in future.   But since I cannot currently rely on these women to behave rationally and respectfully, I must do what I can to protect myself from them.

    As it is, my refraining from naming them may not protect me from further abuse.   But if they do try to perpetrate any additional offenses against me, or if I hear that they’ve attempted to perpetrate any offenses against anybody else, then they may rest assured that I  will  identify them publicly.

Although the transgressions did not take place in Ireland, and the women themselves have no connection with Ireland, I do know that a very large chunk of my readership lives in the area in which they operate.   If any of you want to know who they are, then please write to me privately.   If I think that they may pose a risk to you because you normally reside or spend significant amounts of time in or around their area, then I will of course identify them to you.

Please note that I will be responding to queries about this entirely at my own discretion.   I must put my own safety first.

What Have I Learnt From All This?

This post was really difficult and painful to do.   I’m glad it’s almost done.

I’ve learnt a few things from this experience.

  • No matter how strongly they reassure me,  never  allow other people to take responsibility for my travel arrangements
  • No matter how much they promise,  never  rely on other people’s promises when the outcome is very important to me
  • Other people’s reassurances and promises mean nothing
  • Enthusiasm is no guarantee of sincerity

But the lesson I’ve come away with, the one which I am still feeling the most upset and angry about, and the one which has had the biggest impact on me, is this one.

    The moral of this story is  – 

    No matter how much a person denies their culpability, how long-term their involvement with kink, how prestigious their job is  (or how incessantly they brag about it),  no matter how womanly they are or how good their intentions  –  none of that can EVER exempt a person from being an abusive fuck.


Update – Audio Diary

During my travels, I kept a video diary of my experiences.   I thought some of the thoughts I recorded during the immediate aftermath of the above events might be of interest.   So I exported the audio from the relevant video footage.

This audio file represents my diary entries made at 13:00 to approximately 16:30 on 21 December, 2008.   Because most of the audio was recorded on a moving bus, the sound quality isn’t that great, and some of my words are indistinct.   Below, I have included a transcript of the words I was speaking.   I find it’s a lot easier to listen to the audio if I read along with the soundtrack.

I have edited out a very small number of identifying elements, such as names and places.   Aside from those edits, and aside from compression from .aif to 128kbps .mp3, the audio is just as it was originally recorded.   The running time of the audio file is 07:07.

Please be aware that this audio file doesn’t make for very pleasant listening.

The Transcript


Well, it’s Friday.   It’s one o’clock on the dot.   I’ve just barely been the last one to make the bus.   The train journey down was uneventful.   I had a very enjoyable first night.   An enjoyable, if kind of odd party.   And a relatively good journey up in the car, right up until the moment when we’re trying to get the bus.

And **** starts to stress out.   She starts to get really disrespectful.   ** is following along.   They refused to follow my directions to the station.   We couldn’t get it into the GPS and they wouldn’t follow my directions.   We were ending up further and further away from the station.   I asked them to stop the car, they wouldn’t stop the car.   I finally had to open the door of the  moving  car so that I would not end up trying to get to the station from the fucking [other] side [of town].

They said “You can’t walk all that way” and I said “Watch me.”

Unbelievably, they ring the bus driver, whom I had rung from their phone to ask him to wait for me.   Which, I mean as far as I’m concerned, it’s none of their concern.   If they want to talk to me, they talk to me.   They do  NOT  ring people in my life.

I am not feeling incredibly positive.   **** kept on saying “well how do I fix this, let me fix this”.   Oddly enough, this was not about her.

So, I’m in the back row [of the bus].   It was very nice, I got on the bus.   Everybody applauded.

I’m so glad to be out of there.   I just want to be somewhere safe.   It was really tough.   I’m hoping I’ll feel better by the time we get there.   Which should be about two hours from now.


It’s five past two.   And I’m asking myself if I’m going to cry all the way up to the place we’re going to.   My phone has no access to any of the local networks, so I don’t know if they’ve tried to get in touch with me or not.   Instead of only trying to reach the fucking bus driver.

I’m so tired.


(after speaking to the driver with the phone, to ask him not to disclose any more information about me should those people ring him again)

So I had a friend now…

I just spoke to the driver, who said they care so much, walking out on my friends, they were concerned…

Sure, that’s what they  said.


I keep replaying that last argument, over and over in my head.   I cannot think of a single thing that I could possibly have done differently.

I gave them directions, they ignored them.   I gave them directions again, they ignored them again.   I asked them to please follow my directions, they’d refused.   We’re getting later and later, they were getting further and further from the station.   They were assuring me that they weren’t disregarding my… that my instructions were good enough.   So they disregarded them again after I asked them to *please* not turn on the street.   Disregarded again.   I asked them to stop the car, they did not.   I opened the door, and said “Stop the car”.   And even then, it took them awhile before they stopped the car.

They don’t respond to a normal tone of voice, they only respond when somebody yells.

And they tried to get me back in the car, and I cannot think of a single reason why anyone would get back in a car, when they have been so comprehensively demonstrated to, that everything they say will be disregarded.

People puzzle the shit out of me.


Looks like I’m the first in the room.   It was really difficult downstairs.   The, uh, there were signs pointing for registration and hotel registration, but they did not indicate that the registration must be done first.

So I queued up for the hotel, and they sent me to queue over at the other place.   Anyway, I was standing in the back, and they called for some line over somewhere else, so I went, but it was for staff.

I got a little upset, and people let me go in front of them.

And I went over, got registered, had a cigarette.   Someone helped me up to the seventh floor with my bags.


end of relevant diary entries

Update 2 – The Edit Request

2 January  –  Today I received a request to remove the following sentences from the ‘Afterwards’ section of my blog post:

    “If any of you want to know who they are, then please write to me privately.   If I think that they may pose a risk to you because you normally reside or spend significant amounts of time in or around their area, then I will of course identify them to you.”

The request was not from any of the individuals I have mentioned above.   I responded, declining to honour the request.   My response included the following:

    “… anybody else is of course welcome to contact me directly if they have any personal objections to anything I publish on my blog.

    I must confess that I was hoping to hear something more along the lines of commiserations for the horrors I endured, rather than simply asking me to curtail my communication about them.”

I look forward to further developments.

Update 3 – Nightmare

3 January  –  This afternoon, during a nap, I had a nightmare about being imprisoned, trying to escape, being caught, and being abused by the prison guard.

I awoke in a panic, feeling groggy and disoriented.   It took me a little while to re-orient myself.

Earlier in the day, kvetch and I had a conflict.   Resolution, which normally would have been simple to achieve, has not yet been accomplished.   I attribute this directly to the abuse I described in the main post, since the effects of that experience have left me with a reduced ability to function emotionally.

Although I feel that most people are quite clear about how they personally are affected by the behaviour of others, I don’t think most people completely appreciate the scope of how  their careless behaviour affects others.

I’m feeling quite angry about how my life  (and kvetch’s)  is continuing to be impacted by these women’s crap.

Oh, Really?

Two weeks ago, I was assured several times that I would be hearing from somebody about this last week.

I have had no contact of any kind about this during the whole of last week, except from the people leaving comments here.

I have seen other communications sent elsewhere this week, from the person who had been supposed to contact me.   So I know that her access to email is not completely severed.

If she’s been having problems using email, she has not seen fit to share those with me.   My spam filter has no messages from her in it.   So I must assume that people with some authority in this matter only give a shit if transgressions are against  them.

Now, there’s a surprise.

Now I have some thinking to do.   I’ll get back to you when I’ve made a decision.

About Lady Lubyanka

I am a 45 year old musician, and also a multisexual, polyamourous, Jewish, socially dominant woman within my romantic BDSM relationships.
This entry was posted in BDSM, Dominatrix, fuckwit, fuckwittedness, Kink, Psychology, Safety, The Scene, This should've been a whole lot rantier. Bookmark the permalink.

17 Responses to The Nightmare Journey From Hell

  1. Tom Allen says:

    Well, I see that you’ve met my ex-wife.

  2. I’m sure these women fit the profile of many ex-wives.   I just can’t figure out how they manage to appear reasonably sane for as long as they do.

    They should get an Oscar or a Gertrude or an Irving or something, for Best Concealment Of Derangement In A Convincingly Rational Rôle.

    Yes, I’m bitter.   So what else is new, heh.   :p

  3. ps:   I condole you on your experiences with your ex-wife.

  4. Tom Allen says:

    They appear normal because they usually are around people who are almost as screwed up. They look okay by comparison.

    My ex used to get more and more out of control when things were happening. I spent more time calming her down than I would fixing things.

    And the bit about causing a problem, and then demanding gratitude for a partial fix? Spot on.

    Once, we were driving to a diner for breakfast. It was pouring rain, and we drove through a puddle, which splashed up and got her distributor cap wet. I grabbed some cloths and got under the hood – mind you, it’s pouring rain and dried off her cap, taking care not to burn myself on the engine. Did I mention it was pouring rain?

    It took almost 10 minutes to get the car running again, and she’s screaming that she’s missing breakfast and it will make her hypoglycemia act up, and she needs eggs, and not lunch and we’re going to miss the cut-off time, and etc., etc.

    Finally, I get back in the car and look at her. She’s screaming at me to start driving, I’m soaked to the skin because it was, as I said, pouring rain, and I quietly said “I’m sorry about missing breakfast. Don’t mind me, I was just standing out in the rain for the last ten minutes trying to get the car started.”

    She did shut up, but only until she got mad at me for making her feel guilty.

    Ah yes – that relationship is a blog in itself – of what not to do.

  5. Tom, I cannot tell you how very reassured I felt when I read your comment!   To read how your very specific experiences matched up so precisely with mine, well, I don’t know why that reassures me so much, but it does.   Thank you for validating, I feel  sooooo  relieved!   I mean, the out-of-control-when-things-were-happening, wow, yes, just like that.

    Did you ever find out if whatever was up with your ex-wife had a name?   As in, a diagnosis-type name?

    And if you don’t mind my asking, how long were you with your pre-ex-wife before you weren’t with her anymore?   And how long did it take for you to recover from the experience?

  6. Tom Allen says:

    No diagnosis. We spent some time in joint counseling, which didn’t work out well. Actually, that’s interesting, too:

    She had been going by herself for a while, and at some point the therapist asked if I could come in with her. So I did, and I sat for almost an hour listening to things going on in her life that had nothing to do with our relationship. At some point the shrink noticed my confusion and asked me directly if I wanted to add anything. I said that I thought she’d been here talking about the issues that she and I had been having; she had never brought up anything she’d talked about in the session at home. Had she mentioned it at all? From the hour I’d spent there, it didn’t seem to be very important.

    The therapist looked at her, and my ex back-pedaled, saying that she was getting other issues resolved before she could get into our own. The therapist didn’t buy this, and began scheduling me to come in every other time.

    Now, you’d think that this would be a good thing – but instead, it just pissed off my ex. First, because I’d embarrassed her (and made her feel guilty), and second, because after a few months the therapist was taking my “side” (she claimed) and I was “stealing” her loyalty.


    As it happens, her mother was like that, too, and I often realized that my ex was simply modeling that behavior. There was a distressing amount of drama in her family; her mother was a very “it’s all about me” person.

    You know how you can look back on most relationships and think about a few happy times? That short period in my life really doesn’t have any for me. At all. Sad, isn’t it?

    My ex went on to have an affair with somebody that she worked with. We got divorced (it started before her affair) she got pregnant, and the guy left his wife. They are still married, I hear. Go figure.

  7. That is interesting, Tom.   I noticed you had a few mentions of your ex being angry with you for “making” her feel guilty.   I find myself wondering exactly what she must have meant by “guilty”.   My understanding of “guilt” in this context is something like – shame and/or remorse for having been responsible for something wrong or harmful.

    Although I don’t experience guilt myself, everybody I know who does tells me that guilt is an intensely unpleasant sensation.   Kvetch tells me that when he does something which results in his feeling guilt, he does everything he can to avoid doing it again in future, precisely because the sensation is so very unpleasant.   So if a person persists in doing something over and over and over again, why would they do that if they felt guilt about it?   And why would a person feel guilt about something which they persist in repeating?   I can’t find much evidence of shame or remorse in that kind of behaviour.

    I’m thinking, if narcissism were part of the issue, then perhaps what she really meant by “guilt” was discomfort with imagining that her self-image was diminished in somebody else’s eyes.   I wasn’t with the women I mentioned for long enough to feel confident whether either of them were narcissists or not, but I wouldn’t rule it out either.   Your description of your ex in the therapy session and her subsequent reactions, now  that  seems to fit my understanding of narcissism.

    The other thing I wanted to address was that “all about me” thingy.   One thing about my life, and the people around me, is that they all know that I am totally, without reservation, a me me me me me person.   Yet nobody seems to mind, somehow.   I was discussing that with kvetch today after reading your comment.   The conclusion we came to about why my personal style of me me me me me works so well, is because I am aware that other people’s well-being does benefit me in very tangible ways, so I don’t exclude that in my self-interest stuff.

    Perhaps the main problem other people encounter with narcissists is that narcissists seldom appreciate how much other people’s happiness benefits them personally, and so as a result, they fail to account for it or accommodate it.

    I don’t know if narcissism is the main cause of the behaviour of the women in the experience I related, but it certainly could be.   I suspect some kind of bipolar issue is playing a part here as well.   I detected some evidence of manic behaviour during my time with them.

    A few hours ago I went through and updated the post with an audio diary of my feelings immediately after the events I described.   Going through that was really difficult and brought it all back in vivid detail.   So right now I’m much  less  interested in  why  they are as they are, and much  more  interested in the part where I’m really,  really  far away from them and never have to see them again.


  8. Thaedydal says:

    Good Gods, what willfully inconsiderate, stupid selfish people.

    I do hope you can recover from this soon and well done on speaking out.

  9. Thaedydal:   Thank you.   :)

  10. Tom Allen says:

    There are two kinds of guilt – rational and irrational. Rational is guilt for having done something that is against one’s moral code, or for having done something for which one will be punished in some way.

    Irrational is a general sense of having done something “wrong” but not being able to define it, or defining it according to a moral code that is in itself irrational.

    My ex felt guilty because I would expose her actions as those of a person who was not considerate, or as one who placed her needs over those of somebody (me) who made a greater sacrifice. Since she almost always felt that she was deserving of good treatment, showing her that she was inconsiderate usually led to some big fights. Eventually, I stopped fighting and ignored her demands.

    Gawd, I feel so stoopid for having stayed with her as long as I did.

    She often bought things for me that she thought I *should* enjoy, and became very upset when I didn’t show the “proper” appreciation. And don’t even get me started on the sex.

    Yes, you’re much better off putting as much space between you as possible.

  11. Oh, yes, I really hate having presents unconsensually foisted on me which are clearly designed for the giver!   That’s like, using me to pass themselves off as all good and generous and stuff.   Hate that.

    Your description of your ex’s “guilt” sounds more to me like fear of being exposed as undeserving of good treatment, and anger at being exposed as being inconsiderate.   Maybe “remorse” at being caught out?

    I hope you can come to realise that there’s no shame in being tricked, and therefore staying with her as long as you did was more likely an effort on your part to make things work, which is hardly stupid.

    Or, put another way, yeah, you were a real idiot, any plans to work on that in future?   ;)

    I really appreciate your comments on this post, Tom.   I’ve felt a lot better after reading them, seriously.   Thank you.   :)

  12. G Rant says:

    So sorry to hear what you went through…and happy that it pretty much worked out OK. There are some great folks in the “scene” community, as well as some with serious problems. I’m not a mental health professional so can’t make a diagnosis, but it reminds me a bit of a very kinky lady I was involved with a few years ago. Smart, funny, articulate, and a serious scene player, but also bi-polar. Now she had told me up front that she was bi-polar, but not knowing that much about this disorder I plunged ahead with the relationship. She was fine when/if she took her meds…which she often neglected to do. Then all hell would break loose (Think “Dr. jeckle and Mister Hyde”). Damn hard to maintain a relationship whe someone has huge mood swings with no warning.
    So, your experience isn’t unique. But the good and stable folks generally make up for the ones with serious issues”. Thank you for sharing this experience with the rest of us.

  13. Tom Allen says:

    I guess the point is that sometimes we get into these situations because most of us never believe that other people can be so different from ourselves; that is, we don’t realize that their thinking process is so different from the way that we, ourselves would react.

    I’m reminded of those Monty Python sketches in which a basically normal person slowly realizes that he’s with people who are “something completely different.” It’s obvious to us, as the outsiders looking in. It’s a slow dawning on those of us who are actually in the situation.

    Remind me to tell you about the time I went out for ice cream.
    Geez, what a jerk I was.

  14. I read (and listened) to this a few days ago and I was horrified. So much so that I really didn’t- and to a great extent still don’t- know what to say. So apologies if this is a bit garbled. I must admit, I can’t really imagine you being reduced to tears; you always seem to be so, well strong really. Yet the audio record makes plain the very real distress you were in. I am simply dumbfounded.

    For me, a non-consensual loss of control can be about the most distressing thing that can happen. I imagine that I share that with most other people. What strikes me as particularly dreadful in your case was that these women just didn’t seem to get it, that they seemed unaware of both what they were doing wrong and of its effect on you.

    You really do have my sympathies and what little support I can offer, even if it is of the intangible and moral kind.

  15. I want to thank all the people who have expressed support to me about this.   I do appreciate reading about other people’s experiences with their partners who exhibited traits similar to these.   However, I find it interesting that the people who have shared their experiences with me regarding people like this have so far solely referred to people who were their partners.

    Has nobody else experienced abuse like this from people who weren’t their partners?   I mean, these women were not my partners, and weren’t even close friends.   I find that disturbed people tend to care more about how they appear to strangers than how they appear to people close to them, so they are likely to behave better towards strangers than they will towards people they’re close to.  

    This being the case, I find it astonishing that these women didn’t seem to give a fuck about imprisoning me in their car,  until  I brought the situation out to where people could see  (in the street, in front of the taxi driver, on the phone to the bus driver).   It was like they waved down that taxi not to help me, but to have a witness to see how helpful and good they were being.  

    When I asked the bus driver not to disclose any further information about me should they ring again, even he was trying to tell me how “concerned” and “worried” they were about me.   I mean, what the fuck could he possibly know about it?   I was disappointed in him that he fell for their line so easily, when he didn’t even know them, and saw the state I was in.   They must have really laid it on thick to him.
    Mr Longwidget, I thank you most sincerely for your extremely validatory comment.   I feel most comforted by your acknowledgement that my emotional response was proportional to the situation.

    However, I disagree that the women were unaware of what they were doing wrong.   I think they knew perfectly well that imprisoning a person in a car is unacceptable.   How could anybody in their right mind  not  know this?   If they truly were unaware, then they must be transgressing the law by remaining unsupervised, since those kinds of mental impairments usually have a legal requirement for at least  some  supervision by an accredited mental health authority.

    (likelihood of causing harm to themselves or others)

    Since they weren’t under any supervision which I could detect, then I must conclude that they were aware of and responsible for their actions.

    No, I think the crux of the matter was that they didn’t care,  until  they started to worry about other people seeing.   And I think other people seeing is the main point of fear for every abuser.

    Even the contact I had from one of their associates, that message  only  expressed concern about the part where I offer to identify the women privately to specific individuals.   No concern was expressed about the events or their consequences.   Is anybody else seeing a pattern here?

    This is why I feel it is so vitally important to speak out about transgressions.   Abusers won’t abuse if they think other people are watching.

    Thank you to everybody for your comments.   They really do help.

    Best regards,


  16. Tom Allen says:


    How could anybody in their right mind not know this?

    :cough cough:

Spill yo oh-PIN-yunz after the tone ...

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