Unpacking a catalog of red flags with a woman who repeatedly chose to ignore each one. She knew, but she did it anyway.
I reunited with someone earlier this year, before life started handing me the business. I want to say that I forgot she existed, but I didn’t. The reality is that I actively avoided thinking about her, because I’d end up cringing so hard at our antics together. We last connected nineteen years ago, before going our separate ways. In late January, she slipped into my messages, and we reconnected as if we’d never taken a break. It was a weekend, right around my birthday, when she seemingly just appeared and told me, “We need to hang out.” By mid-spring, she faded back out of focus, but my mind is still blown, a bit, by a scenario that she found herself in. I hadn’t thought of her in a minute, for obvious reasons, but I feel angry on her behalf and, well, aren’t we in the perfect place to get into it?
Let’s talk about that goofy situation with a manchild raver, the PLUR Peter Pan.
I’ll start by saying that the part that bothered her, more than anything else, was that she knew that he should’ve been a hard “no,” but she did it anyway. There was one moment, over a year before, when she caught a quick flash of his shadow and felt a sense of entitlement coming off of him that was almost palpable. It’s like the air was letting her know that he wasn’t a good person. flag! She went for it anyway, and hates the reality of it all. He was the type of person that would make anyone who knew her say, “What the hell? What’s the plan with that?” There was no plan. The closest thing to one was the low-budget idea she had in her head, about him coming in and morphing into an ideal that she had yet to dismantle. Instead, she was introduced to another seemingly unknown phenomenon (to her): over-confident, interchangeable men, who expect the most, while offering less than the bare minimum in return.
He ignored her one hard boundary from the jump, to not exchange sexual pics. Given their loosely-professional ties, she assumed that was understood, but he sent them anyway, because he felt special enough not to show any class or consideration. flag! She’d essentially been living under a rock, having been in relationships for over two decades. He seemed kind and warm initially. So when he asked for “a pic,” she sent him one of her face, her whole head, up close, un-freaking-edited. I’m not even kidding, she legit didn’t compute that it was a signal and should’ve been her exit. Even a simple “No thanks!” was too much work. He was being a creep, fishing for pictures when he knew damn well what she looked like in person. flag! The only effort that he put into the entire situation was a lazy attempt to gather enough evidence to answer his only question: Is she fuckable enough to entertain? I hate that word, if we can even call it one, but it’s kind of perfect. It’s trashy, aggressive, and makes me visualize something humping an indistinguishable object, with no desire to find out what the object is. Like, yeah, this will work. It’s also relevant and oddly appropriate here because that essentially was his barometer and she was the replaceable object. It seems parts of her were indeed worth humping, determined by one simple shot of her on a boat. She gave in and sent that one, after texting throughout the day. She’d misread his instant replies as legitimate interest, and walked right over her own line in the sand. His corny words made her feel special and she liked the feeling, so she carried on and waited to pick up more of his little breadcrumbs. Clearly he was clamoring for attention as well and itching to flash his junk. She happened to be a lucky recipient. Yay!
A whole exhibitionist, how lovely.
There wasn’t any curiosity about her life, just the expectation that she was to be delighted by the most basic aspect of a being, a body part (of his choosing). flag! He went straight into it, in his best Brett Michaels cosplay, bandana and all. The picture that he sent translated more as a toddler in discovery-mode, with him laying out his cards and beaming with pride, as if that were the jackpot. After she provided the validation which he was seeking, he took it as an opportunity to gift her with another gem. This time he upgraded the experience with a video. Apparently it was a solo act, with him, no joke, stating, “This is for you, Name,” before dropping his pants and carrying on. A personal touch, how thoughtful. She said the only memorable part was the smug look on his face, which annoyed her slightly more than the low production value. All of it was cheap and low-effort: the setting, the performance, the man, the message. I imagine he reviewed it before hitting send, which I find highly amusing. I cannot, y’all. Well, apparently she could, because she wasn’t mortified, she actually was all aboard on that. I wonder how many others he was sending those to and, also, is this a thing? Seems to require a lot of juggling and unnecessary managing for little return. It wasn’t giving what he thought it was, like, is this considered a substitute for an actual personal connection? It feels very technical, but simultaneously stupid.
Let’s note that this man was much younger than she was, though she did initially think he was a solid five years older. His actual age was over a decade younger than hers, and behaviorally it was clear. He actively posted his uninspiring life on Snapchat, so there’s that. With all of these very valid reasons to judge the shit out of him decide to pass on him altogether, Friend told me that she still ended up sending him private pictures of herself. She then waited for confirmation that she was, indeed, sufficient. Phittay moo! I mean, the photos were hot as hell, perfectly worth a public post if that’s your thing, but it’s definitely not hers. She knew what she was doing, because it really is that easy, but couldn’t look at the actual images before hitting send (and then deleting). It’s because they were steeped in desperation and she knew it, but did it anyway.
I wish she could’ve seen how much better she truly was than all of that. She did the most in exchange for the very least, like sending him a video of herself, while saying his name and all. But she didn’t even know him, not his values, interests, birthday, or anything about him as a person. If she was asked what types of music he likes, she couldn’t say. No idea if he was a chocolate or vanilla guy, corn or flour tortillas, how much he drank or used (she’s in recovery), or if he was an absolute monster who doesn’t like pizza. It was only a wonky illusion in her mind, where neither of them tried so hard to mask their insecurities, while actively displaying them at the same time. The absurdity of it all, honestly. This woman, objectively out of his league in every sense imaginable, was gassing up a man whose most distinguishing quality was that he sent personalized content without being asked? The images and video that she sent him showed her actual body and face, and she now has zero idea or control of where they could end up. In 2026, no less. In our big age. She now sees that it was definitely her least dignified move, but at that time, she trusted him and clearly didn’t feel a need to protect herself from potential exploitation. Thankfully there are laws in place to at least try to hold someone accountable, and she has the means, but who the hell would want to open up this totally avoidable set of problems? And for a man? There were a few nights this past summer, when I asked myself, “How did she land herself in this position?” I guess in those moments, her persistent desire to be chosen trumped any sense of intrinsic worth. Dang, it really can happen that quickly if your footing isn’t solid, huh? She couldn’t see that she was exhibiting the same behaviors and responses as her mother, who blindly valued men over anything else, even her own children.
“This new fear that she unlocked will now follow her around, and for what? The hope for a little bit of attention from a man that never valued her to begin with?”
Let’s be real here, he doesn’t even value himself, hence the unsolicited flashing. A person with self-esteem and a sense of identity would never. A man whose face is five years older than his birth certificate, and hairline a solid decade ahead, apparently would though. Ironically, she thought his face was “beautiful,” specifically his large forehead. She liked it and thought it made his face “sexy,” but clearly he didn’t. I wonder if he extended himself more grace, about things that weren’t within his control, if he would lean into aspects of himself that weren’t so hyper-sexual or surface-level. He had some goddamn audacity to be so cavalier, for sure, yet she was doing the chasing, without understanding why. She wanted him to feel good about himself, so she went hard with the compliments and excused his lack of efforts. I feel like if she’d said the same things to herself, she absolutely wouldn’t have noticed this man at all. She said she saw him for months before she actually did notice him and, when the timing was right, he appeared to fill a role she was looking to fill.
She was obviously trying to escape from a present life that had indisputably turned to shit, the match was just lit when she went out of her way to like one of his thirst traps. I know! How embarrassing for all involved and also, flag! It was one that was casually sandwiched between photos with his minor child. And yes, this is all real life. She dove right in, without checking if the water was even safe. Spoiler alert: it was not safe, clean, or anywhere near where she should be. In her mind, it felt like she was floating around with him in open ocean, but in reality, it was an East Texas swamp, somewhere in the cancer belt. She was looking for a match to come ignite something and free her spirit, in the same way that Peter Pan, over here, tried so hard to make himself appear. She’s already more free than this man will ever be in this lifetime, but went with the narrative anyway. Or maybe it wasn’t about him, and she was just unaware of her own feelings of obligation to please men. He certainly wasn’t any more special than the one before him, whom she also reserved a spot for on the same dusty ass pedestal.
This one deserved no accolades, but she simped over him anyway, even when he whined about his hardships to her. A white man, already born on second base, complaining to a brown woman about his troubles, without any regard for her backstory? Groundbreaking. Where shall we line up to find such unicorns? It’s not like he used his many privileges to actively call for changes for issues that don’t directly affect him or win likes. flag! In his ultra-red home state, where his voice is considered more valid than hers, he has the genitals and skin color that put him steps closer to accessing basic needs for his family. So while he’s out there cosplaying as unique and pretending to understand struggle, he actually could be using his privilege to move some needles for those more likely to be dismissed than heard. For him, a repost on Threads was more than enough.
He was quick to introduce acts loosely based around cultures he didn’t understand or respect, without context, as if her body were already part of his performance of being different. ugh, flag! Even the way he described his excitement for his fun new fetish was unhinged. flag! He bragged about meeting up with a stranger to hook up, and they proceeded to get into some crackhead shit. The minute he used an Eastern term, she knew. Oh Lord, he’s one of those white people, like a drum circle personified. To respect the “craft” that he said he wanted to try on her body would require learning the origins of the act itself and its people, not reducing it to something created solely for the pleasure of Westerners. He assumed she cared to hear any of it because he was the main character. How original, an average small-town man living out fantasies based on how exotic they sound. Is this what it’s come down to now, men conditioned so heavily by porn that they no longer understand basic human connection?
For someone who attempts to make his fetishes a substitute for a personality flag!, her plopping into his lap was the perfect novelty. She’s ethnic enough to make him stand apart in his tiny radius, serving as an aesthetic token. Women who look like her visually represent his open-mindedness and worldliness to anyone watching. He didn’t see her as a full person with history, struggle, and agency. He also chose not to see her as a mother, trying to keep it together while her world was imploding. He saw an object, and she was expected to be grateful for the spotty attention. flag!
That dungar is not free, in any sense, and never was. He works a conventional job, buys conventional things, all while tweaking the bit just enough to seem different than the version standing next to him. What exactly is he free of? The establishment in which he’s a highly-active, low-level serf by choice? Or is this elusive freedom just for the few nights, out of a very long year, where he gets to avoid his lackluster reality and pretend to have a valid identity, as a fairy?
“Oh wow, so much freedom. Whatever will you do with it all?”
She texted him paragraphs detailing how much she wanted to do x or y activity with him, ones usually associated with dating, but she actually didn’t. She wanted to do it with her ex, but couldn’t bring herself to accept that he wasn’t interested. He was busy passively scrolling while sitting next to her, both literally and figuratively not listening. Over time, she lost sight of who she is: intuitive, introspective, all of the words. She started to believe she may not be worth hearing, but wasn’t able to put it into words, so she acted out instead. Once she realized exactly how comfortable he’d gotten in their dead bedroom, she felt cheated entirely. That man wasn’t trying to even pretend anymore, so now it was only her keeping up the front. I see exactly how and why she found herself completely fawning over this dude. He really had it all set up for him, by her past, and he still fumbled.
She felt an intense attraction and actively chose to ignore all of the red flags. That’s the hardest part for her to digest, that she continued to engage with him at all. How was she that thirsty for attention in need of connection that she didn’t immediately clock (and block) his wack, shallow ass? In most aspects of her life, she can reason, reassess, and recalibrate. Yet, this one part of her does all of this? Maybe it’s not about her personality and more about her response to arrogant behavior that’s directed at her. Like when he told her she was “fragile” flag! and offered the novel grand gesture to sweep her off her feet, she didn’t even ask how exactly. How was she fragile, and why would she not want to be steady on her feet? His words and actions never aligned, and this was no different. That fragile little petal was the one who reached out initially, because she was attracted to him, but also because she had the confidence to shoot her shot, with zero doubt she’d miss.
Everything that happened after was, what she called, her “wounds talking.” I hadn’t heard that one before, but it was exactly what was unfolding in real-time. She knew she was too eager and too intense, but wasn’t that matching his energy? Her paragraph-long texts, reaching for his attention, and the clinging all happened after he created a sexual dynamic and then withdrew from it. She trusted him with access to images of her body and her thoughts. The minute he saw that she was a real person, with feelings attached to her amazing boobs, he immediately stopped interacting and moved along to the next confused woman who’s conditioned to lead with her sexuality.
It was as if he clicked her away and that was somehow acceptable, but in reality he dehumanized her into something that can check a box.
She had a hard time processing that part and felt genuinely hurt for weeks, because she meant what she said to him, and he used her. Her clinging was a response to his inconsistency, it was not the opening move, and absolutely not about him. Props to her for diving in, recognizing that she made it really weird, and digging into why she did, instead of thinking about him or his response to it. She knew this dynamic all too well, the feeling of being ignored unless conditions were met. Maybe it felt familiar?
He never asked anything about her life, who she was, what she wanted. Read that again. Not once. flag! He talked in circles about their “threads crossing” and other vague terms to keep the illusion intact without having to be accountable or consistent. When he said he felt a connection, she genuinely felt it too, in that specific way that doesn’t happen often, to her at least. Describing it to me, she said she felt a spark. He acted like he knew exactly what she was talking about, like he felt it too, and then he disappeared. There was no explanation or acknowledgment, he just ghosted, which was something she’d never experienced and still doesn’t understand.
She walked into her therapist’s office the day after sending him the video, where she cried and spilled it all out. Over the weeks, they began analyzing what he very briefly represented, which was being wanted and chosen, and romantic attentiveness directed specifically at her. And then she began what she calls “the real work.” Oh jeez, here we go. I assumed it would be TikTok therapy-speak, but it’s actually a simple concept: she slowly stopped thinking about the version of him in her head and started figuring out why she’d needed that feeling so badly in the first place. That’s it. He started to move out of focus and her spotlight began to shift back to her. Oh shit, it’s fully on me now? It hurt her ego when she learned she’d misread the entire situation. “Like a fuckin fool” and “delusional” is how she described feeling throughout this whole debacle. She internalized it, and began to question her own looks and value in the world. For a little bit, she felt unwanted. It was really upsetting to see Friend so eagerly outsource her validation.
With time and consistency, she was able to see her way out of that negative mindset and back into reality. In hindsight, that very moment that she felt attraction toward him doesn’t feel as magical as she once remembered, and the look wasn’t admiration, it was objectification. She responded because it was familiar, and she was confusing being scanned for being seen. The worst! Realizing that he likely measured her up against other women, including their few co-acquaintances, was another hit. She felt looked at and decided against, personally, and angry on behalf of every woman subjected to his particular brand of creepiness. She was also embarrassed that she didn’t recognize his dumbass approach, like referring to viral feminist jargon as a way to seem more like an ally and less manipulative. He really had time for that shit, and how she found any of it attractive is beyond me.
I’m really proud of Friend, you guys. It wasn’t her best performance, for sure, but she came through for herself. I also genuinely love that her biggest flex in this situation was that she never looked him up again. Not on socials, not on Google. She didn’t block him, but also never typed his name into any search bar.
“Bitch please, look him up? For what?”
I feel like she took my sister’s words to heart. The last time they’d spoken, while visiting Sister in the hospital, Sister asked, “Did you ever speak to that guy again?” When she replied that she hadn’t, and that the situation wasn’t what she’d thought, Sister’s response was immediate. “Oh thank God. Do me a favor, and never entertain that kind of shit again.” Friend kept her word and committed to reorganizing her life, which I enjoy seeing snippets of every so often. As far as Peter Pan and his free spirit? I’d assume he’s still tethered to his small town girlfriend from back home, by a string rope of poor decisions between them, and a toxic, tattered attachment. Living the dream, eh? Hopefully the “ex”-girlfriend is able to move on, and into a more respectful relationship. Nobody deserves a partner who has one foot in and one foot out, let alone one who cheats from inside of your shared bathroom with bad lighting.
When I decided to add this part of my notes to the record and share here, it was the last that I’d connected with Friend, and she realized she’d forgotten what his face looked like entirely. Perfect. The last thread finally burned, thankfully. She collected a trunkful of takeaways from this buffoonery, but the greatest and most glaringly obvious was that when he told her she was “out of his league,” that was the most real thing this man would ever say. Go figure, first freaking flag! The universe truly did her a solid and I love that for her. I can’t believe this is real life, but there she was, in the middle of a whole-ass circus, acting like a clown herself. It can happen to anyone, apparently.
To the nieces, my unsolicited Massi advice is simple: don’t be Friend. Friend doesn’t even want you to be like her, at least her behavior throughout all of this. Everyone deserves better than being measured on a scale as fuckable. But if you happen to wander off and find yourself in a position similar to Friend, know that she found her way. She’s out of the tunnel, now fully aware of belligerents on the road. It sounds like she’s genuinely forgiven herself for previously wearing blinders, which is really nice! She’s not embarrassed and most importantly, she definitely knows that she’s not “unwanted.” Also, immediately block anyone on the first flag. It only gets worse.