This guy won't stop doxxing me on Substack so I fucked his ex girlfriend. It was pretty easy, and I barely wanted to do it, but the stars aligned and he wouldn't get off my dick so I felt it was a reasonable course of action. Sean has been a thorn in my side since I arrived in New York. Last week he heard I was attending a reading with this girl he used to fuck, or at least tried to, and threatened to "rough me up" if I came through. I came through anyways, because it felt cucked, to me, to change my plans on the basis of some guy's internet threats. I sat there drinking with the girl, ‘Princess’ (18), until he spotted my sad tired face and went Oh Shit! Hahaha Are You Worst Boyfriend Ever? No way dude! And took a picture of me from across the bar which I just stared at, smiling sadly like Mona Lisa. He then came over to me brushed my arms a bit and said he would See Me Outside. In my last writeup I described him as a “Bonafide New Jersey construction working yankee hat wearing square jawed peaked in highschool type high T steroid taking Dimes Square Alpha Male” … I've never been in a fight in my life. I knew he’d beat the shit out of me if we came to blows. So I fled downstairs and slunk out with the girl unscathed. The next day he posted my Mona Lisa smile on Substack Notes, the home of modern culture. Of course his post caught fire because everybody wants to know what the anonymous homeless rapist looks like in person. I try to avoid all discussion about myself on the internet but I could not even scroll the timeline without running into some new quip about how ugly I am… it was disheartening. I turned to “Med Gold” for emotional support. He said I looked handsome actually and that warmed my cold sad heart. And more girls were reaching out than ever which is a pretty good indicator that I must not look THAT hideous. But still… I don’t facefag on here for a reason. I reported the post to Substack Moderation Team for ‘doxxing.’ It can’t just be perfectly fine to take a picture of somebody at a bar, post it calling them a rapist with their real name attached, can it? Apparently it can! After the requisite 24-48 hour response time someone at Substack emailed me to gently inform me that the “content does not meet the criteria for removal” — great! Fuck me for going outside. And then he posts a zoomed-in picture of my license plate, asking if Anybody wants to report this guy to the Police, so I can go to Jail. Can't you just let me rape in peace? Meanwhile the van I live in has broken down, held hostage in some mechanic's garage, and his ex girlfriend is desperately texting me all week. I did not have the sexual bandwidth to reply. The girl's hot, but I have no money, no van, my life is a nightmare. But then it was Friday night on the Lower East Side. I had no plans and two hundred dollars. I was bed-rotting on my friend’s thin floor mat up in the loft area of his studio apartment, which is where I have been sleeping for the past few days. I was struggling to come up with a reason to go outside. I went out to get some pizza. A slice here, I’d walk a little, a slice there. Alone, stoic, sober, whatever. The Lower East Side on a weekend night is like a big drugged-up playground for rich kids in their 20s. It was late October, so some halloween costumes. Girls in black jackets and whore stockings, short skirts which reminded me of Japan. In Tokyo those girls are explicitly prostitutes but out here they’re free, and they’re begging you to take them. I would just see their asses and sigh. My agent/friend texted me asking if I wanted to go to a “lesbian reading” — at a bar nearby. Then a few minutes later he re-texted me “actually nvm you shouldn’t come, it will cause drama” — I sighed again lonesomely. I know if I want friends here I’m going to have to start my own thing, my own cult, my own event, that’s the position you put yourself in when everybody’s too squeamish to +1 you. That’s a bit of an overstatement but it felt heavy in the moment. I told him I was lonely and about an hour later he went aah what the heck, come anyway, it’s fine, and I did, and it was, fine. Outside that bar I couldn’t believe it — it was Princess. The one who had been texting me all week. She was on her way out with her roommate, who had just been kicked out for being 18, loudly, and making out with the bartender. This girl Princess seems to have some schizo-BPD but her roommate is so much worse, from what I can tell. They were leaving with this generic cute tall brown haired guy who looked kind of like me but less withered from years of adderall. He was a fan of mine and trying to get the two girls to do a Threesome. Everywhere I go I tell myself and the people I’m with “i’m not going to be worst boyfriend ever, i’m not going to be worst boyfriend ever, i’m going to be undercover this time i’m going to blend in i’m not going to cause problems” and then bam, immediately it’s 6 people circled around me at the door asking omfg are you worst boyfriend ever? i’ve been reading your stuff for so long i bought the book i wrote an article about you are you seriously him? my eyes twitch and i don’t know what to say. people look at me like i have the answers to all their problems and i look at them like i'm trapped in a big glass box. i told this one girl i feel like an animal at the zoo right now. Princess ditched her roommate and the look-alike-me to follow me inside, and we went straight to the bar. I’m too autistic for all of this shit. I remember the words of the great Tao Lin, in Taipei: “i only go to parties to find a girlfriend” — So true. So immediately Princess and I started talking about why I hadn’t been responding to her for the past week and ordering drinks and she felt like my lifeboat, my girlfriend for the night. I felt like I was coming off as too much of a sad sack to do what I really wanted to do, which was touch her, so I suggested let’s do some blow in the restroom. We did. Locked the door and pushed her into the wall and started using her body for my pleasure immediately. She bit my lower lip really aggressively but the coke numbed it. She’s almost as tall as I am so I had to stand up straight to look down at her. Nice squishy ass. She said my coke sucked and I rolled my eyes—I got it from an Asian in his 40s —how bad can it be. Someone knocked on the door and I heard “yeah i’m just waiting in line here” so I said yeah we can’t do this anymore we need to go back outside. I didn’t want to ruin my Reputation with this venue, which I’m aware is very gay but I’m trying to be a person in the real world with friends and I can’t just be getting kicked out of every place I might want to go immediately in my first week in New York. Also Princess is 18. So back at the bar the owner tells her she needs to go too. “Come on—it’s time to leave.” I couldn’t tell if it was because of me, or because he learned she was 18. or both. I could’ve stayed and kept socializing but I go to parties to find a girlfriend. So I walked her out and stood with her for a few minutes convincing her to come back to my place. She said no, no, no, no, and then fine. Rape? More like tenacity. it was cold and her school was far away and so I took her by the hand and walked her to my friend’s place. I’m in this little loft upstairs. He’s moving out in a week so there’s no furniture anywhere, it’s eerie. He’s in his bedroom on the ground floor sleeping, it’s 2 AM. I shush my Princess and take her up the ladder to the area where I’ve been spiraling bed rotting contemplating my place in this world. I haven’t showered today and feel smelly and tell her to do that with me. She says no again but then I just start peeling her clothes off until she says yes. This is how it works. Take her by the hand and lead her into the upstairs bathroom-shower, this can not be done with words. I’m not much stronger than her but I don’t have to be. My erection pressed up against her stomach turns her on. Are you reading Sean? Good. I stripped the rest of her clothes off even her socks and turned the shower on. The pressure wasn’t fantastic but it was hot. I took a bar of soap to her body and got even harder. Our mutual excitement was interrupted by this awkward conversation—her breasts are kind of hard. Really hard. Like a hardness I would at first mistake for silicon, but they’re clearly not fake, based on the shape. It’s consistent, too, like hard clumps of muscle trapped within the soft fleshy exterior, on each breast. I felt like if I were to squeeze them hard it would cause her pain, like not good pain. She worried she may have breast cancer. I have no idea. I had no time to ask ChatGPT or play doctor. Soon the conversation drifted somewhere else and my erection returned as she started bathing me. I lapped up her nipple slightly and stuck my dick between her thighs standing up face to face. I started thrusting between her legs, not fucking her, just pulling her thighs and squishy abs into me to simulate sex without penetration. I became somewhat close to orgasm. I wasn’t much looking at her face but she seemed amused by this maneuver. I hadn’t fucked a girl of this height in a long time, I was freestyling. Eventually I couldn’t take it any more and spun her around and pressed her up against the wall. Hand over her mouth, no more words, I don’t care if you want it or not we are so far past that now. Apparently 6’0 male + 5’10 female multiplied by the way my dick is curved = you can fuck her standing up in the shower, from behind. She didn’t have to bend, I was pressing upwards instead of in. She bit my fingers as I did it. I did not draw the sex out like I sometimes do. This was for me. In about a minute or two I came inside her, and just nodded, and thought of Sean.