A couple of years ago I wrote about a voracious online predator who tracked vulnerable blogging women and the aftermath of his being found out. I cautioned then about the need to use extra care when interacting with people we really do not know.
A group I encountered recently schooled me in how easy it can be for people of any openness to be used by someone online. It doesn’t matter how street-savvy or educated one is, if someone is trawling for someone to fill whatever needs, they will find a way to the heart of your matters.
They will find the route to your trust. They work only to find the one(s) who will say yes to their invitations in trust that will further win your heart and other supplemental prizes like boob pics or even Skype sex. Not every friend of this friend went so far, but the fact of the matter is, betrayal on any level, as these women experienced is bitterly painful.
The methods and motives of these people vary, but I believe the one for the man I write about here, while a person of many sides & talents, is a social predator and unable to build a real life of any meaning.
They couldn’t have found a more sincere and kind supporter. Why would they think otherwise? His words were so soft, so deeply kind, and so well designed to flatter and draw in comradery as quickly as possible.
He spoke to their vulnerabilities and oh, how vulnerabilities long for understanding and care. Without a doubt, you’ll never find a more tender and understanding soul.
They’d all heard them…those loving words of admiration he’d wrapped their hearts in; verbal ribbons of plush velvet, colored with 50 light hues of shady. 27 interchangeable lines for each woman of the hour:
I am in love with your mind.
I love your heart.
Love yer shit! You’re brilliant!
I just fell in love with you.
You really are a talented / funny / intelligent / inspirational bugga, arentcha!
Oooh, you’ve got them legs / eyes / smiles.
Do you have an email address?
Do you Skype?
Would you like to chat privately sometime?
Of course, he told them it was just to share ideas and thoughts about life in general… not anything inappropriate… after all, he is a married man.
Still, it won’t be long before he initiates chat about the sad state of affairs in his relationship(s), and then soon after he will seek commiseration along with their sympathy and most certainly, will want details of any distress within their own worlds. He’d say, as a former counselor, he’d be happy to work through that with you.
If I could do anything, I’d be there.
I’d do anything to save you.
*wipes away a tear*
Six feet whatever & 2 hundred blah pounds of protective love & hugs comin’ to you.
What’s his name? Send me his address, I’ll have a word with him for you.
You deserve so much more…
You’re so strong, I so admire that …
You seem to know me so well…You’re the only one who really gets me.
You’re a hottie! Spunk rat!
Oh, how he does seek and then loves the protective sympathy that he so easily sweet-talks out of his followers. He only has to mirror it back and the game is sealed for this made-to-order knight.
You are a ‘chooser of the slain’, the long awaited savior of we depleted warriors,
(Specific to those with surgical scarring)
You are beautiful…an artist, a muse…
You are so wise & sweet…I love that.
You’re not a blogger! You are a writer!
I love you, < insert 19 or more women’s names >
I miss you, < insert 19 or more women’s names >
You’re such a special lady – legend!
You ‘have to’ come visit me; we’ll show you the time of your life, & I’ll even pay for your ticket.
Say yes to all that or similar and you’re in for an absolute full-time, hours per day, obsession – unless you question him. Then that charm blows up at nuke level and you’re yesterday’s news before it’s even printed.
Interestingly, no man received the same level of support or invitations. No variation of those statements was made to any male writer he followed. Just a lot of, “Hey man, good stuff”.
I suppose one mind can come up with only so many lines for the same sorts of honeyed support, hence the repetition. That’s the least these women could concede, when they learned how, out in the real world, they weren’t so special after all.
Oh sure, he could say in his defense, which he did, that it was their own replies that gave him permission to carry on to where they went. That he did mean those things, just to different degrees. Of course, one has to wonder who got which degree, and they did.
Well, he had to play it safe. It’s a delicate balancing act isn’t it? Even if his hands were currently full with one or more, he’d still have to endeavor to hold onto the others at a safe distance. Just in case any of those in hand should drop off.
The feminine power he relies on to exist isn’t much different from how a car needs petrol to run, so a re-filling station is necessity. Note that he didn’t approve of his closest also having their own male variety servicing centres. Wonder what that was about?
Of the known 19, only a small few will stick around, insistent that they can heal his twisted heart because their own hearts are just that much deeper than the others. They really are the real saviors of this poor, beleaguered, wannabe Norse seafarer.
After all… he said so.