Hey Guys xoxo
I’m not really new here, been on and off here like a lurking pervert. IRL, I’m a gentle, mild-mannered guy, navigating a politely distant culture that’s obsessed with maple syrup and ice hockey, have assimilated myself so much so each sentence of mine begins with a “sorry”.
Spent a good chunk of life seeing money problems, being hopeful and shy, being a parent to my parents, internalizing and packing trauma over the years (still unpacking btw). Porn and masturbation was both escape and exploration.
I’ve recently decoded via therapy that all I wanted was a symbolic acceptance and proof of desirability from native Caucasian women. In my initial attempts to ease in, blend in with my accent-thick English, I only realized my distance from them, in terms of cultural compatibility (or maybe my own unimpressive notions bounced off of them back to me, as I barely went past that invisible wall to really know them as a person). Polite distance was the most confusing experience for me, as I was of the thinking that if people are nice to you, that means they’re into you.
I have overcompensated for my ethnicity, being extra nice, accommodating, fearing slightest of fuckups or mistakes, holding my very breath just to not cause an inconvenience. All this while maturing before time to manage a struggling household, achieving in a stable job, having a credible shot at a stable relationship, and converting it into a consummate marriage. I have played it very safe in life, and in the process, have explored nothing of this promiscuous, confident carefree alternate self.
I have restricted myself too much for my own good, so much so my insecurities are marinated into sexual proclivities, and I’ve come to crave a very specific kink involving Caucasian women.
I fantasize about breaking into someone’s house, ripping off a woman’s clothes and vandalizing while fucking her or touching women while they’re sitting next to me in transit. There’s a very thin veil of civility and fear of fuckup, but I’ll probably cross it if I get a slightest hint of acceptance.
I watched a short movie on YouTube, called Eclair sometime back in 2022. That has planted a seed, that deep down, women look for suspension of control. However, I’ve never been able to make a women this vulnerable. I have tried this gazillion times - women have expressed great delight and arousal at the idea, but never materializing it, and maybe rightly so.
What do I want then? Honestly, I don’t know. I’m a sexual rat who’s learnt to pretend to be respectful too well, playing this part almost perfectly and without cracks. No one who knows me IRL would say this is me.
This fantasy of mine will most probably never materialize, and I carry this grief like a prison inmate. But I’m constantly compelled to toe the line and potentially blur it.
However, I’d still like to talk about it. I go to therapy for this, but mere acceptance doesn’t wash away the grief.
I’m ideally looking for genuine virtual connections and real life hangouts, but I don’t put my money on it. If it happens, happens. Don’t try to find me - My profile picture is obviously not a big hint of my whereabouts
. Also, I have always done the right thing, my well-formed conscience is the biggest baggage I carry.
Whether I’m worth your time, I leave that up to you. This place is full of weirdos, at least, I think I’m an interesting one.
- Confucius
I’m not really new here, been on and off here like a lurking pervert. IRL, I’m a gentle, mild-mannered guy, navigating a politely distant culture that’s obsessed with maple syrup and ice hockey, have assimilated myself so much so each sentence of mine begins with a “sorry”.
Spent a good chunk of life seeing money problems, being hopeful and shy, being a parent to my parents, internalizing and packing trauma over the years (still unpacking btw). Porn and masturbation was both escape and exploration.
I’ve recently decoded via therapy that all I wanted was a symbolic acceptance and proof of desirability from native Caucasian women. In my initial attempts to ease in, blend in with my accent-thick English, I only realized my distance from them, in terms of cultural compatibility (or maybe my own unimpressive notions bounced off of them back to me, as I barely went past that invisible wall to really know them as a person). Polite distance was the most confusing experience for me, as I was of the thinking that if people are nice to you, that means they’re into you.
I have overcompensated for my ethnicity, being extra nice, accommodating, fearing slightest of fuckups or mistakes, holding my very breath just to not cause an inconvenience. All this while maturing before time to manage a struggling household, achieving in a stable job, having a credible shot at a stable relationship, and converting it into a consummate marriage. I have played it very safe in life, and in the process, have explored nothing of this promiscuous, confident carefree alternate self.
I have restricted myself too much for my own good, so much so my insecurities are marinated into sexual proclivities, and I’ve come to crave a very specific kink involving Caucasian women.
I fantasize about breaking into someone’s house, ripping off a woman’s clothes and vandalizing while fucking her or touching women while they’re sitting next to me in transit. There’s a very thin veil of civility and fear of fuckup, but I’ll probably cross it if I get a slightest hint of acceptance.
I watched a short movie on YouTube, called Eclair sometime back in 2022. That has planted a seed, that deep down, women look for suspension of control. However, I’ve never been able to make a women this vulnerable. I have tried this gazillion times - women have expressed great delight and arousal at the idea, but never materializing it, and maybe rightly so.
What do I want then? Honestly, I don’t know. I’m a sexual rat who’s learnt to pretend to be respectful too well, playing this part almost perfectly and without cracks. No one who knows me IRL would say this is me.
This fantasy of mine will most probably never materialize, and I carry this grief like a prison inmate. But I’m constantly compelled to toe the line and potentially blur it.
However, I’d still like to talk about it. I go to therapy for this, but mere acceptance doesn’t wash away the grief.
I’m ideally looking for genuine virtual connections and real life hangouts, but I don’t put my money on it. If it happens, happens. Don’t try to find me - My profile picture is obviously not a big hint of my whereabouts
. Also, I have always done the right thing, my well-formed conscience is the biggest baggage I carry.Whether I’m worth your time, I leave that up to you. This place is full of weirdos, at least, I think I’m an interesting one.
- Confucius
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