Back in September of '24, I ghosted my Dom because I found out he was targeting women with mental health issues for a sub/dom relationship. That revelation made me reflect on our relationship—how we started, how things progressed, and ultimately, how they crumbled.

I originally came to this subreddit in October of ‘23, venting about my struggles as a sub and how I kept running into fugazi "Doms" who led me on just to hit me with, "I don’t like chubby girls," or "I don’t date Black women," the second they met me. I have pretty bad social anxiety, and I’d never really talked to anyone about my lifestyle before, so when I found this subreddit and saw other subs sharing their stories, I was ecstatic. It felt like a safe space.

After sharing my frustrations in a now-deleted post, I got a couple of DMs from the usual suspects—fake Doms trying to sweet-talk me into their bullshit. But then, I got a message from someone different. He didn’t come off like the others. He was nice, empathetic, and didn’t give me the usual predatory "fake Dom" vibes. He thought my shyness and social anxiety were cute but didn’t treat it like some kind of fetish. We kept talking, I vetted him, and eventually, we agreed: he would be my Dom, and I would be his Sub.

For a long while, things were great—until they weren’t.

I have a particular kink that he initially didn’t mind. We were long-distance, living in different countries, and we had an open dynamic. I didn’t care if he talked to other subs—it actually worked with my kink. With their permission, he’d tell me stories about his interactions, show me pics and videos, and it was hot. I was happy. Then, one day, he said he’d been rethinking things and wasn’t comfortable engaging in that kink anymore. I didn’t want to lose the relationship, so I reassured him that it wasn’t a dealbreaker for me. The only thing I asked was transparency—if he was going to meet up with other people, I just wanted to know. Like, a simple, "Hey, can’t talk tonight, meeting up with someone," would have sufficed. He agreed.

That lasted about three weeks before he started doing everything he’d done before. Sending me pics. Give me details. Falling back into our dynamic. And I didn’t question it, because he was the one initiating. I was just going with the flow.

Then, in August, he brought it up again.

By that time, we had deep feelings for each other—or at least, I thought we did. We had told each other "I love you." We were even talking about meeting in real life, with me possibly moving there because, let’s be real, America was (and still is) in shambles. Plane tickets were about to be bought. Bags were semi-packed. (I blame my Cancer Moon and Pisces Rising, but I digress.)

Then, he hit me with this:

"I question my ability to love, still… I feel like something broke with my last two relationships. I used to believe in love. I had a focus on it. That’s what’s different. I struggle with that these days… committing. I like you a lot… but I don’t think I can bring myself to fully commit to anyone ever again. I can see myself committing in a material sense. But I might stay a hoe most likely… But at times I feel guilty over our fantasies. Especially after you said you have a history of taking shit from people… that you shouldn’t take. Because it doesn’t match what I wanna be. Maybe we should stop those fantasies."

Ya’ll, when I tell you I was livid—I mean, BIG MAD. Because here we were, having the same conversation again, except now he was telling me he didn’t think he could ever love me. I told him we could stop cold turkey, but I knew damn well this conversation was just going to come up again, and I was going to get hurt all over again. Then he had the audacity to say:

"You know what’s been missing lately? FIGHT ME A LIL BIT. TALK SHIT. I miss that, and I think things have gotten a little stale the last few months. Throw in a pinch of DRAMA. You being a good girl is great, but make it 95%. The best moment we had yet, if you ask me, was when we were on the outs about your kink and we had that fight. We had a day when shit was ‘real.’"

That wasn’t our best moment. That was him negging me. This man straight-up told me I deserved more but then tried to shame me for my kink. He wanted me to admit that fantasies had no place in serious relationships. His exact words were: "Being exclusive in fantasies is something to strive for."

I didn’t agree at all. To me, the base of the relationship has to be strong enough to support any dynamic. Whether it’s chucking, free use, DD/LG, master/pet—whatever it is, as long as it’s consensual and fulfilling for both people, it works. Fantasies don’t dismiss a relationship; they enhance it. But he wanted me to believe that my desires were invalid.

Then, the final straw.

I woke up one morning with a weird feeling in my gut—like my ancestors were whispering in my ear. So, I looked up his username on Reddit.

And there it was. A whole-ass exposé about him on a BPD subreddit from multiple women, warning others to watch out. The post was from two days prior. The same damn day he told me he couldn’t commit. So not only was I heartbroken over what he’d said to me, but now I was realizing he was out here on Beyoncé’s internet being a whole-ass predator.

I never wrote him back.

When I asked for space, he agreed and said, "Let’s sleep on this." Two days later, the same day I found the post, he texted me, "Hey, I’m awake now."

Hmph. Yeah, me too.

I was in shambles. Cried all damn week. But you know what’s crazy? He wrote, "I’m awake now," and then… nothing. No follow-up. No checking in. Just silence.

It took him two whole months to finally message me again:

"I don’t know if you are reading, but I’ll say what I want to say in case you are. In these two months, I reflected on what we had. I miss you. If you took me back… I would commit. Losing you made me realize how much I valued you. I hope it’s not too late."

When I read that, I felt like Latoya Luckett in Torn—"Torn in between the two, 'Cause I really wanna be with you, But something is telling me that I should leave you alone…"

Like YES, finally, fucking grovel for me and realize what you lost. But then I was like, maaaaaaan, fuck this dude. He ain’t shit.

I’m proud to say I didn’t respond. 20-something-year-old me would’ve folded faster than that chair at the Montgomery Riverfront Brawl of 2023, but 30-something-year-old me? Nah, I know better now. I blocked him on everything, deleted his pictures, and put him in the back of my mind.

That was… until two days ago when my damn calendar reminded me it was his birthday.

Lordt. It took everything in me not to text him. I’m big on birthdays (because, you know… childhood trauma), and it was so hard not to post something, anything, anywhere he could see it.

But I didn’t. And that’s growth.

In conclusion, lmao, I’m back in the same predicament I was in two years ago—struggling with ain’t-shit-ass "Doms" who lack commitment on top of the rest of ‘em who don’t like chubby Black girls.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.