Criminal Love Affair

Date: February 23, 2024
Categories: innersanctum

Trigger warnings : cheating, sex, onlyfans, financial crime, sexual assault/rape

Perhaps this entry is overdue…
Well, let me be honest, first of all, and say congratulations to myself 😇 for reaching over 5 000 unique visitors every month, for the past few months !

When I started exiler.net, and just typing here in general, I never ever ever ever ever thought anyone would read what I wrote. Of course, I nurtured dreams of people reading it. When I typed up some of my old stories (which are gone forever since my husband deleted my site “accidentally” [either genuinely or not, we can only believe him and accept that he is innocent until proven guilty, and I was so oblivious I never made backups!] . . . ) I would read the entries on my phone, in a boiling saltwater bath, and have fantasies of someone reading it and falling in LOVE WITH ME! In a state of utter neediness, I even fantasied that Alex Karp, somehow, would read my thoughts, and be overwhelmed by curiosity and come find me in reality… How grateful I am for dreams!

Before I got pregnant, I would try to spend at least 45 minutes in scorching hot salt water, twice a week, at minimum, so reading my typing was very useful to keeping myself burning alive in there. My face would be bright red and I’d be pouring sweat with a racing heart pulse when I finally allowed myself to get out. I miss those days… That 💧 purification 💧 ceremony partially inspired my story about the girl who bought liters of hand sanitizer and cut herself before taking a bath in it. A slow suicide. Sort of like binge drinking alcoholism, except that girl was doing something religious by peeling off her skin and disinfecting herself so entirely, that a totally new version was reborn inside the embryonic fluid of bloody gel. That was in 2020, as pandemic therapy. I wish I had a copy of that story, but I do not. 💔

In any case, it’s been a while since I last updated about “my life”. It seems I have two locked posts, which I’m not going to read… but the last time I posted, publicly, was in June ? Unless we count the other ones, which, I would say are more about society, or, society distorted through my . . . egocentric self-absorbed, subdued-pathological lens. . . lol.

Aging has been on my mind lately because it was recently my birthday, my skin starts to look worse and worse, and I met someone on Monday who said I looked “33-35,” and I only turned 33 last Monday. . . so, that was painful, but maybe honest! To defend my vanity, I only slept four hours the night previous, which, as anyone knows, certainly doesn’t help! Unfortunately, the truth hurts: I need Botox, a face lift, light therapy, etc etc. I need to get an actual, regularly paying job, so that I can afford everything required to maximally benefit from my physical form. Unfortunately, my teeth are fucked up and I doubt I will ever get them straightened out, and though society doesn’t like it, I do. I like my crooked, giant, stained crocodile’s teeth. If rotting black teeth were good enough to enchant Napoleon, they’re good enough for me. I also noticed, a few years ago, maybe around age 29, that my perception of energetic shifts had lessened. I used to be able to acutely perceive the difference during the change of sun sign seasons. The shift in energy was always dramatic and obvious, and I could pick up information from the air like it was nothing… Every day had such unique energy about it, and that’s all kind of dissipated for the most part, and it continues to evaporate with time. In the beginning of this decline, I worried. Now, I realize how important it is to be fixed and steadfast in one’s energy. If I were to be flying through the air, absorbing frequencies from the ether, that would leave me unstable, and energetically vulnerable, which would negatively affect my performance as mother. This means that the loss is for the best. Old people must be secure, and stable, so that the youth may run amok and generate and experiment with new visions of the future. [ I do not think I am a likely participant of the Methuselarity. It is highly probable that I will age normally, and die like the majority ].

On a related note, as far as getting my life together, which is of primary importance after having my son, who is perfect and is my favorite person ever, the best person ever, etc. etc., I’ve made some minor progress. I finally got my French language level officially tested, and, thankfully, it’s good enough that I can apply for French nationality. The downside is that I have to deal with both the French & US bureaucracies, and I hate the FBI. I must pay 120$ for a set fingerprints, then pay the US government for a criminal record, and you can imagine the rest. It’s going to be long, long process, but it heavily weighs on my heart not to share the same nationality as my son, my closest living relative, and to live with the “threat” of deportation or ejection (it’s unlikely, but without citizenship, I feel so precarious, so un-belonging, unwelcome, like, I’m only a guest ,when my husband and son are both French. It makes me feel overwhelmingly alienated, in-between and neither, and like a third-wheel, as if I have nothing at all in common with my baby, besides genes and blood).

The thought of being separated from my son makes me want to rip my intestines out through a self-inflicted stab wound in my esophagus. But I really have fallen in love with France since I had my son here, and after I earnestly severed ties with my in-laws. Back on the topic: I have an interview/exam on 13 March, to see if I will be accepted into a full stack developer program, but I don’t have my hopes up, because I’m really so fucking stupid and cannot retain information. Not only that, but my severe PTSD limits my memory’s capacity. Which is what trauma is really about: inflicting irreversible brain damage and dumbing you down. When someone “traumatizes” you, it is a form of domination and predation. Besides, all my brainpower goes into thinking about, like, the nature of reality, existence and humanity… but I really need a job because I LOVE MONEY!!!

I want more streams of income so much that I’ve begun contemplating starting an ONLYFANS !!! lol. One may argue that it’s a slippery slope, but if I did start one, I’d only focus on fetish content using my height (stiletto smashing), nylons, feet stuff, I guess… We’ll see, I don’t even know how I’d have time for that, but people really like my height and I love nylons, and it would be fun for me, and then it’s like, I could take slefies but get paid? I need practice because I do not know how to be sexy or take nice pictures. I’m like the most non-sexual person, even if I have a nymphomaniac aura about me, which is true on one level, and untrue on another. Plus, I could advertise the link on this site… On the subject of pornography, we must discuss cheating, at least, superficially, and cheating is actually part of my SICK LOVE ADDICTION.

To preface the following: We are NOT going to question my husband or judge him in any way. As usual, everything is about me, me, and me 🙂 . . . Please do not theorize about anything. You will read the words I type here, and that is the only information that you have. You will not extrapolate, you will not fill in missing, unknown gaps. You will accept everything I write without further question!

So, yes, I had my “infidelity” in November and it lasted until January, and now I think it’s done… maybe I’ll take on some slaves when I feel a little better again. Unless, you know, Alex Karp contacts me! I’m ALWAYS available for YOU, most precious worldwide global voyeur darling!!!! 💗💗💗

A second point that needs to be made straight away is that 🔒🔒🔒 I LOVE SECRECY 🔒🔒🔒. I love… a secret, double life… Other people might be distraught and terrorized if they found out their partner had a secret family, with secret children, and a secret identity… Sadly, I’m a pick me, and the thought of the shrewd, calculating intelligence necessary to facilitate such an operation is SO SUPER SEXY!!! Can you imagine the sort of organizational skills required? Saying nothing of the SOCIAL skills! MEIN GOTT! Sure, dark triad, whatever… that’s irrelevant to my admiration. The malignant psychology of such lives does lead us straight into criminal territory, since it is the life of a criminal to live beneath the surface, carving out tunnels of vice outside the blindfolds kept around everyone else’s eyes. A secret life is often the secret life of a criminal, because, as they say, if you haven’t done anything wrong, you shouldn’t have anything to hide. It is also a betrayal of the image. The image, for example, of the ethical banker, the upstanding employee, the father, the mother, the school principal, everyone when they’re online… We believed the image, and you betrayed us with its shadow! Any normal human can’t stand it, and I can’t stand them, so we all agree with each other.

We may circle around to criminality later, however, the point is this: I LOVE SECRECY, and therefore, I will not be disclosing the full extent of the situation, nor my thoughts on it. This is not deep inner sanctum information. This is shallow, diluted informational waters. You will not drown while reading me. Contact me by email or other means if you have specific inquiries.

So, my “infidelity.” [I put it in quotes because my husband is ‘aware.’] Let’s just say, it was… interesting? I guess? It enlightened my understanding of men, and sex. I’ve been with my husband for eleven years, and much of my sexual history before getting married was either sexual assault or rape. I had two real boyfriends, besides the pedophile. One was an older christian fundamentalist with a micro penis, who wept in utter shame the one and only time we tried to be intimate, and the other was a man seven years my senior, who I started dating when I was 17 and he was 24, which isn’t that bad, especially considering his IQ. Sorry to humiliate these men, but they probably deserve it. I mean, it’s just the truth, isn’t it?

Now that I’m older, and, well, in an alien country, which itself is odd, because I recently realized just the other day that I basically only hang out with “Non-US Citizens.” I have seen only one fellow American and I saw her only once last summer. Everyone else has either been from France or another country! I’m lucky and so grateful and blessed, it’s unique to me and something I did not expect. It’s probably normal for anyone in a big city but regardless, I’m very grateful and 🌐iLOVE GLOBALIZATION!🌐

I’m not sure if it’s cultural, because the men seem more or less the same. Well, maybe that’s untrue. I don’t want to make generalizations…but they’re definitely not like anglophone men, that’s for sure. Maybe they’re worse? Maybe they’re better? I don’t even know! That’s not the point! What am I even typing about? 😵‍💫🤔🤔

What I want to say is that my perception of my sexuality and my perception of men has changed. My understanding of women, and myself, has changed, too. Basically, I no longer feel insecure about my body. I have a fucked up body, and it’s in very, very bad condition. But I don’t care. It’s my body and I love being me, and that is sufficient. Men will fuck anything, men get hard for anything, men will degrade the most gorgeous woman, degrade the most intelligent woman, they’ll do anything to anyone. Their “opinion” doesn’t matter. They either like me, or they don’t. They either want to fuck me, or they don’t. And it never matters. I mean, maybe if we LOVE one another, it matters. But love doesn’t exist anymore, due to climate change and gradual social extinction.

It’s now as if nothing affects me. Nothing really scares me, nothing truly disturbs me [my offspring is my only vulnerability]. The fact that I always remain myself, and will always have myself, for as long as I’m alive as myself, is really all I need. I may have my moments of sorrow and depression, and I certainly can fly off the handle at my husband, but I have such emotional security now, that I’m sort of BEGGING for someone to…. …. I don’t know… ? Subject me to unfathomable insanity ?

I wish for games and social manipulation that would be the envy of authoritarians. Competition of mental domination that can only be played out and won with words and imagination (and then a physical fight, like my dream of the hawk and crocodile. You be the hawk, I’ll be the crocodile). Hmm… who knows, really. I don’t even know what I want anymore. I want to ….basically, just be like, … recruited by the government to commit espionage, but as a sexual fetish. Or, maybe, if I could join a theater and be an actress…. I could be such a good actress, believe me! Because I’m always acting. The real me is the crocodile. Estivating in a cold, wet, humid tunnel. Absolutely unmovable and absolutely motionless. Any time you see me “living,” that’s me being an actress. I’m acting right now, actually.

💎 Someone just told me that my website is so “1990s,” so I had to change some elements of the landing page… I lost my train of thought from earlier…

To soundtrack the slight redesign, I listened to a tarot reading, and it’s has me thinking about predators and weakness. Weakness is such an interesting thing to think about 🌞. The man I was infidele with was a Leo, and Leos are lions, and lions, as you may know, are predators. And everything about that man was predatory [so hot though xoxoxo]. Leos are my opposing sign, I feel a deep attraction to them, and I love their attention. My personal relationship with predation oscillates and wavers. Sometimes I victim blame, maybe most of the time. Recently someone pointed out how prey are simultaneously predators, and I often forget that. I tend to focus on the apex and the nadirs. That may be why I am fixated on “humanity,” as humanity is the apex planetary, maybe even someday, intergalactic predator. Or maybe it’s because I’m focused on threats and dangers. No matter. Whereas Leo is represented by collective group predation, Scorpio is the reptilian, instinctual kind, and Taurus is the stubborn, stupid, bullheaded type of “predator,” who just keeps going and going until everyone else is bored. Finally, Aquarius represents the most ruthless and terrifying kind of hunter… The one who smiles and laughs as they stab… 🧍

I’m sad to say that I am a bit tired now. I’ve been wanting to go to Paris with a laptop and type in a café, but I’m so scared because I feel people will look at me and know that I’m garbage, and my terminal unemployment energy will leak out of me like a faucet. They’ll look at me and think “What is a person like that doing on a computer?” Of course, no one would care. It’s simply that it’s unknown to me. I have not taken a laptop out in public in years. The last time I did such a thing was in 2011. I really ought to though, because my story is a bit stagnant, hovering at 12 000 words, and it’s certain that the public air will have lots of information to share.

For the past four months, I’ve regularly walked all across Paris for entire afternoons and sometimes all day. My husband has a very heavy, down to earth energy that is helpful, and endearing, and I love that about him, but for my projects, it’s… too practical for imagining. I’ve also had/have a lot to contemplate, and it’s such a privilege to live near such overwhelming beauty! My son made me fall in love with this place, truly. And, I want to get to know this city, seeing as how my son has already spent so much time in it. He’s already seen the Eiffel tower, like… He’s so French, it’s endlessly mind blowing. All this is to say that I have no problem walking for hours through the city streets, but I am scared of sitting in a café working on a laptop in 2024, because I feel I do not belong on the surface of society. I belong in the tunnels and pipes… which is how we can circle back to the eroticism and allure of crime.

NOT ALL CRIME! Organized financial crime (and corruption, espionage, treason), are the ultimate(s) in sensuality. I do NOT endorse human trafficking, robbery against individuals, violent crimes, etc. I am not trying to promote crime either. This is a perversion, a fetishization of a sociopolitical institutions…. In the way filth and smut are eroticized, the fetishization of crime is a perverted social eroticism. It is the filth of political economy, and probably very anal stage related. Though, much like anus to lips, we must not forget that crime only exists due to governments , civilization, and politics… You watch the kiss of the state, I see the asshole of crime. The delicacy of the mouth always must come out as shit. We’re united (untied) <3 I love you…

I was discussing the charm of crime with my husband earlier, because he works in an industry adjacent to fraud & financial crime, and we’re both fascinated by crime, albeit from different sides: he is more of a cop, whereas I tend to be more of a girl criminal type.

The recent takedown of ransomware-as-a-serivce LockBit, was what initiated our discussion. Apparently, the FBI used Lockbit’s own “countdown” lockouts to display how much time the condemned have left, until they’re contacted by authorities or arrested. The FBI also wrote on their screens “have a pleasant day” or something like this. Personally, … I hate the FBI for blocking access to their website in France, so I hate the FBI as a whole now.

Realistically, morally, just consider for a moment the libertarian heaven. Ransomware attackers are allowed to commit cybercrime: anyone can purchase ransomware and use it against another, and there is no one to stop it, except. . . Vigilante groups, who eventually start calling themselves the FBi, and now, we’re back in civilization again. Why even bother? What’s important to note is that the FBI protects people, it uses public resources to finance the ability to target a large, decentralized, malicious social network. On the other hand, maybe in utopian heaven, everyone is a sysadmin and knows how to program their own Ai godhead, and anyone who can’t program to defend themselves, due to their low IQ, was either aborted or is otherwise dead.

My husband thought it was funny that the FBI used the ransomware’s own program to mock their capture. Do I find that funny? Not really. Maybe it’s a genuine act of justice, but for some reason, I would prefer had they conducted their operation without emotion, without any giveaway of self-satisfaction. Despite that, it is, nevertheless, an example of the symbiotic relationship between criminal networks and law enforcement agencies. Criminals are often/always steps ahead of law enforcers, and much technological advancement comes from the criminal application of new tools. In terms of markets, you have the military, the commercial/consumer, and the criminal. Most people tend to forget about crime, but the black market is incredibly powerful. In terms of poltiical influence, criminals win. In terms of shaping the future, crime wins. It’s as if civilization sets up the rules, and crime, like water, slips through the cracks and fills up any vulnerabilities and emptiness. Crime is a sort of predator, too. And let’s be honest: sex, for the most part, is predatory. In a way, desire itself is predatory. Desire consumes, overtakes. It instrumentalizes anything it can to satisfy its need. It rationalizes the annihiliaton and subjugation of any obstacle that may appear in its way. Desire doesn’t need to be criminal, but it is predatory, exploiting the object of desire to motivate it into action. It’s the desiring that compels movement. Like instinct compels us to drink. You think you have morals but you haven’t yet be deprived of literally everything. Similarly, crime is exploitative, as it preys on the “virtue” of civilization and society. It exists depdendent on law and order, in the way desire exists dependent on the object that it desires… I guess, you could argue which came first, crime or civilization? I’ll vote crime. Civilization may have come into being in response to crime? Hmm… Since crime is a predator, civilization cohered into a collective assembled to protect itself. How do you deal with psychopaths? You invent the FBI. You hire an executioner. You create cops.

But crime is so sexy because it is predatory, because it takes advantage of weakness, it BENEFITS from weakness. It makes blindspots, loopholes; fragility useful. It is comparable to the way women like to be dominated during sex and the way men often like to dominate, hence, maybe, why men tend towards crime. It’s a sociocultural mirror of some kind of dynamic like that. The manipulator and the manipulated, the sculptor and sculpture. Someone needs to be willing to be used. I could go on, but it’s almost 1AM now, and I really want to try to go outside tomorrow! The longer I remain inside, the harder it is for me to go outside, and I aim to leave the apartment at least three days a week, but I haven’t managed that for the past month or so. Wish me luck!

I WISH YOU FULFILLMENT ON EARTH. I WISH YOU ALL THE EXPERIENCES YOU DESIRE.
THANK YOU FOR BEING ALIVE.
THANK YOU FOR BEING YOU.
EVEN IF I, PERSONALLY, HATE YOU.

It is the next day 23 Février and I’m in the train right now, with the laptop, and I’m cosplaying a slutty employee. I just tried to take slefie. if one is good enough, I’ll add it here: [I did not like them].

I just spent two hours walking around Opéra and ended up at Chatêlet, where I realized that it is not at all where I want to be. On the way there, I stopped at one of my favorite cafés, but they hadn’t an electrical outlet available, so I continued walking on for a while, looking through the windows and finding that most places were either already full or not ideal. I was searching for a café with windows and light, on a busy avenue, with a lot of people both inside & passing by.

Eventually, I returned to Opéra/Saint Lazare, because this neighborhood is my anchor. There is one café on L’avenue de l’Opéra, where I got hit on a week or two ago. It’s a café that I obviously go to, somewhat often, because it’s at a convienient location, and it’s touristy enough that I blend in without much judgement. Omg… I get hit on nowadays every time I go out 😈 (which is new and surprising to me). As far as culture goes, this is one area where I strongly, strongly, STRONGLY prefer France over the United States. [I had some bad incidents here years ago, but they were anomalies] It seems, in my experience at least, that when men approach women, it’s more polite and respectful. Most times it starts with “bonjour,” and then a real compliment like, “what a beauty,” or “you’re magnifique.” None of this, “Hey bitch,” or ”SMILE MORE,” or “NICE ASS,” comments that I would get in the United States. In any case, it’s always so shocking and it makes me feel like I’m desirable. Especially when the men are polite and respectful. Two of the men recently started literally shaking when I continuned chatting them up. I really enjoy flirting, so it may be that it’s unusual that I’m so open and direct, but uhh…. YOLO… and I LOVE interacting with people. If the only people who talk to me are men who want to fuck me, well, so be it. I’ll extract more out of you than you can even percieve in me. You are my mine, I’m just the hole! We shall now move away from the crime topic and discuss My True Love Addiction 💘.

The truth is that I’ve always been this way. I think I’ve mentioned before how I would make instant messenger usernames such as “ILOVEJOHNNY49263,” and then I would message Johnny from school, and tell him how hot he was, and then, I tried to interrogate him about his crushes. I had a secret phone sex life all throughout my adolescence. And, I’ve always been boy crazy in a pathological way. I know other women are too, and that it’s “looked down upon,” because it centers men, which is BAD!! And I agree, it is sort of bad. Because it made me so love diseased, so desperate for romantic affection, longing for a man who I could die, self-immolate, destroy and sacrifice myself for… etc, etc. If only a man could save me! If only true love, if only… prince charming could save me! How tragic that it is only social manipulation propaganda 🥹 or maybe it’s real? Mercifully, we never have to decide anything. Everything can be both, and neither, simultaneously. There is no objective reality… The thing is that it’s part of the experience of being a woman? Being at the mercy of men, needing men to protect yourself from other men, being expected to surrender to a man, to be possessed and owned by one. As if that is the grand prix of feminine existence. It’s very complicated, annoying, pathetic, and difficult. Being a woman forces you to be manipulative, as self-protection, and as self-defense. You’re a hole, but like, you must be more than a hole to some, some of the time, but pure hole other times. Ugh… this is why I need to write my story!




Nevertheless, before I met my husband, I was thinking that I was a sex addict, but I now realize that I am just an addict, pure and simple. First I had the computer, then phone and cybersex, then weed, then alcohol, then exercise and restricting, now, I have my infidelity dating site and my computer again. To be “HONEST,” I sacrificed my sexuality for monogamy, and for marriage. I thought that if I became nice housewife girl, that everything else, normal and virtuous, would follow naturally, and for a while, for over a decade, it did. I had my entertainment with men on Twitter, and we would write each other little erotic vignettes. Selfies used to give me the desire addict’s hit. I played RP games where I could exchange my fantasies with other players. Every once in a while, I would download Tinder and enjoy the excitement of matching. Something shifted, related to my three month bed-ridden illness, my in-laws, and… having a baby, probably? And feeling that my husband doesn’t find me attractive, and secretly hates and resents me.

Contrast the domestic suburban life with being desirable fuckhole, and it’s like, being desirable feels like being the entire universe, and having galaxies orbit around and possibly inside of you. It feels like being God. There’s definitely an ego boost involved. In the beginning of my descent into this hypersexual world, I was easily persuaded by the attention and flattery. Now, thankfully, I’m immune to (almost) everything. It may have been that the “infidelity” I experienced was a final mold casing into a more resilient and profounder level of self confidence. If I hadn’t been used by that Leo, I wouldn’t have learned to identify the signs, and I wouldn’t have been updated with new information to better immune myself to that type of predation. He was a virus, really. A super sexy evil virus… Falling sick with him was necessary to develop resistance to people like him. It will never happen again. On the other hand, my compulsion to self-sacrifice is an irremovable poison that circulates through my blood, and it goes back centuries. And I would be lying if I didn’t admit that willfully throwing myself into the lion’s den is very, very satisfying. I love the drama, the mind games, the manipulation, and the danger inherit to playing with fire. Most people want stability and predictablity, and maybe I should want that too, and I do, in the light, surface part of my life. In the other side, in the netherworld, I want derangement and confusion. To truly, viscerally live as half animal and half human.

I think I’ve successfully aired out the psychic drainpipe. Usually when I write one post, I end up writing another in the next few days. Maybe that will be the case. If you read this all, please let know of a topic you’d like me to type about?

I love you all so much. Always remember that I love each and every 999 trillion of you more than any of you could ever love me. And that’s just the way it’s meant to be. 🌟


XOXO


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