I Have To Tell You What Happened, It Can Happen To You So Be Careful

I never had much luck with guys. In the sense that they didn't talk to me. Partly I suppose because of how I look and partly because I tend to get irrational when I feel that a guy is trying to push me around. So I did internet dating, mostly dark alleys and dead ends. Then I met a guy and he said all the right things and didn't boss me around. He needed to borrow my car because his was in the shop, and he needed money to catch up on his rent. It's not that I have money, what I had was a job.

What happened is that I was waiting outside the front door of the office for him to pick me up and my supervisor, a woman, in the company stopped and decided to keep me company until he showed up. It was awkward and I would have preferred to stand alone, but her questions resulted in me telling her how I met him and the loan of my car and giving him money. That's when she went all parental on me did exactly what I hate, she bawled me out for being gullible and stup!d and told me I needed to get my head examined.

When the guy showed up, an hour late by then, my car had a wrecked front fender. He got out and was all 'babe, sorry about that but I got hit at a light' and superior took one look at him and told me to drop him, immediately. Don't even dare say no. Well I ignored her, and the guy spent the night with me. The atmosphere was so bad that when my superior was around I hid in the stairwell or the bathroom to get away from her. In the meantime my bank account was empty.

One day, were talking a month or so later, I got a picture in an envelope on my desk. My new boyfriend, giving a blowjob, his hand on the man's cock, the tattoo on his hand clearly visible, and of course his face was recognizable too. The deaf sometimes don't want to hear and the blind sometimes don't want to see. The next picture I got, also in an envelope on my desk, was a picture of him working as a valet at a private party, big expensive cars. On the back was lettering, 'your boyfriend is a male hooker'.

When I confronted him, he was 'staying' with me for a while until he could get on his feet, he told me he was just helping out a friend who needed help that night for valet drivers. I didn't confront him about the picture of him giving a blowjob or about him being a male hooker.

Things can never get better, whatever lie he told me I believed, my credit cards were maxed out and he hadn't put up a penny for rent since he moved in (about eight months by then). He didn't even fuck me anymore. He was angry if I questioned him, that I didn't trust him. Then I got another picture in an envelope, a mug shot from Alabama and a copy of his 'rap' sheet and the sentence to 180 days in the county jail for prostitution, third offense.

I am sure that somehow my superior got ahold of the information and the pictures, she is pretty resourceful. I was the 'victim', the police story, and he had a long list of complaints, of bleeding women and men dry, he was basically a homosexual sex worker. I was not his first victim. No charges stick because I gave him the money, I lent him the credit cards, I let him borrow the car, I invited him to stay with me. All I got out of it was an expensive lesson, and the clap.

Out of embarrassment I resigned my job and moved back to Maryland to live with my parents, at that point I didn't have any money and my credit was maxed out. My car, used but looked after, was a piece of junk. When it was cleaned out by a detail center, there were used condoms under the seat.

I'm in therapy that won't end. I'm still burning inside. And the stup!dest thing is that I can't get him out of my mind.