Post #15

Whores of the Matrix #2

"The Stuck Lies"
It's 2005 - KTV Barnstorfer Weg 36.
A small second-hand shop mixed with new goods was the pride and joy, keeping me busy 24/7.
More and more people came and bought the clothes, painstakingly picked out one by one.

At 28, it looked like a solid business was developing.
My life seemed perfect, plus a great, interesting girlfriend.
We hung out together in the surrounding bars.
We made out until we attracted attention.
As a couple, we stood out; she was gorgeous out and about with this shop owner.
This, in turn, drew attention from others, and thus became customers.
It was a wonderful feeling; everything was perfect, I loved my work, and I had a great relationship.
But maintaining this relationship was far from easy.
Due to the age difference, the fear of loss quickly developed, along with intense phantom jealousy.
Because of this complex, I overthought every situation that fit into my sick fantasy.
This severely impacted my relationships.
I repeatedly and unconsciously sabotaged what had initially been so fulfilling.
But the business grew, and more people came.
Including girls who openly flirted.
One day, a friendly hippie girl stood in the doorway with her boyfriend.
She spoke with a very conspicuously lascivious smile.
While her boyfriend stood somewhat forlornly beside her.
It was strange behavior that couldn't be immediately categorized.
Then she even asked me about a school internship with angel eyes.
I looked at him, then back at her.
I briefly wondered if they might be siblings. Since she also repeatedly put him down in conversation, as siblings usually do to each other.
He doesn't talk much, she said.
How could this be? How could she torment her boyfriend so obviously?
... But I didn't want to be the mean shop assistant, so I agreed.
She then started her internship, which only lasted a few days.
So we spent those days hanging out together. She covered for me when there was an extra customer in the shop or when my girlfriend wanted to go out to eat with me.
At the end of her shift, her boyfriend always picked her up.
Because his girlfriend had such a crush on me, I always tried to make him feel like I had a girlfriend and wasn't interested in his girl.
Because it was very interesting how punctual he always was.
And also how respectfully he positioned himself by the entrance.
He knew I didn't like it when someone stood in the doorway.
I liked that nice, reserved boy, how reliably he was there.
While she always said goodbye with that strange, permanently etched grin.
I'm not lying, I was really glad when that week was over. Unpaid work sounds good at first, but employing someone without experience often requires more effort than it's worth.
In 2007, the complexes took over.
In 2006/07, the jealousy reached its peak. The additional cocaine problem made the psychological pressure of imagined sexual failure immense.
So intense that I was on the verge of a mental illness.
The shop was then driven into the ground in a short time.
My wonderful girlfriend left me, and so did all those people who were there every day.
Suddenly, I was nowhere to be seen on the street.
That was the lowest point in my life.
But life had to go on. I took what I could salvage and set up a small screen printing workshop. It wasn't easy, but fortunately, and this time more conveniently, someone came along with their boyfriend during the shop's final weeks and asked about a school internship.

The business, which had been built up over eight years, was now gone, and I felt like a huge victim.
So I often withdrew into myself and didn't let anyone get close.
The new intern surprised me by dropping some new music into the back box during one of these depressive episodes. Götz Widmann's album "Drogen" (Drugs) kept me in good spirits for a long time during that dark period.

And so the weeks and months passed.
The friendly intern stayed on to further practice her printing skills.
We talked a lot and enjoyed discussing all sorts of things.
Since she had a boyfriend, I also liked to talk about topics that were usually only discussed with close friends.
So, of course, the conversation inevitably turned to penis envy. It still bothered me that women tended to prefer male partners as their men increased in size. A truly bizarre phase of envy, with a desire for a XXL penis.

Even after the crash, it was still all about getting attention in bed.

2008: A new shop.
Everything seemed to be looking up again. An optimized concept was developed from scratch, and friends pooled their money to start a company.
It was a great feeling to get so much attention at 32.
There they were again, the people who wanted to gather the news.
They only came because you, in turn, were in contact with many other people.
One person, so to speak, gathers information collected from many others.
There I stood again, chest puffed out, looking for customers.
This girl was also soon in the shop, introducing herself again with that slightly lascivious grin. She claimed to be looking for clothes, but you could sense what she really wanted.
Being happily single again, it was rather difficult to find contacts outside of work, given all the work.
So this was a simple diversion that, with a quickly exchanged Skype contact, led to a sex date. I wanted to know what was hidden behind that promising grin.
It was summer, and she arrived in a light dress with nothing underneath.
Freshly moisturized, thankfully she'd avoided her most intimate areas and hadn't overdone it.
She was shaved and smelled incredibly delicious. Not freshly showered, just a faint scent of sweat.
Which was subtly captivating.
We were so horny that we didn't even make it to the bed and got right down to business on the couch.
As quickly as I'd come, she left again.
A short time later, I asked her via Skype if she'd like to come over again.
She said yes.

Wow, what a luxury, it reminded me of the Metallica video "Hero of the Day."
At that point, I had no idea what a sacrifice she was about to make.
I didn't want to see how she was being used.
From my perspective, I could only assess the situation, and I knew she just needed sex.

Explicit scenes -

What follows will disturb some people, as it was absolutely wrong, not necessarily wrong, but irresponsible.
So we met at my place again.
She looked so good again with that amazing erotic grin.
This time we actually made it to bed.
We were in the 69 position, and it was incredibly beautiful.
So hot that it was hard to control what was happening to me again.
She was really skilled at what she was doing.
That strange, pleasant feeling when your partner gives you that signal that it won't end and will last until the very end.
A feeling that makes you come faster and more freely.
That's how it had to happen, and I didn't think about it.
Unhindered and prematurely, I exploded in her mouth.
She swallowed everything.
Without enjoying it.
She was still too inexperienced and inhibited to simply spit on the bedspread.
The subtle, subconscious feeling that I had just done something wrong to her was immediate.

A feeling of unease spread through me, in the form of insecurity.
Instead of helping her out of the situation, I was the one who first raised the bottle to drink.
Not rudeness or stupidity, just immaturity.
Afterward, we left the apartment and went to the supermarket.
But my thoughts kept swirling around, trying to figure out the best way out of this situation.
It didn't occur to me that we could build a relationship on this.
Talking was difficult, and just because we were compatible in bed didn't mean we could play games. I haven't been able to lie for a long time. But avoiding her, that was possible.
So, offline, with a clear head, I focused on work again.
I didn't realize what had happened to her because of these two dates.
It's not like she could come to me to complain about it.
Make a scene and all that.
She didn't understand, and still doesn't.
Her innermost self was hurt.
These are injuries that affect our consciousness and are not understood, or only with great difficulty.
These injuries leave scars that, as a victim role, then dominate our lives.
As it turned out, the encounters left deep wounds with a strong victim mentality.
After 16 years, this has now developed into a perpetrator role. She used her influence and manipulated her environment with lies so that people would focus on me.
That in itself wouldn't be a problem.
She changed the story and shifted everything to the time when she was still a minor working at my business, not as an intern, but now full-time. But she added the word "abusive."
She inserts herself between my then-girlfriend and the friendly and respectful treatment I showed her, and after all this time, she constructs a completely new story for herself.
Not only is she lying to herself after 16 years and believing it.
There are a lot of people who find it logical that someone would report abuse from a workplace after almost 20 years.
Her boyfriend wanted to understandably show that he supported her and was there for her.
For two days, he showed up and made eye contact while I was smoking a joint at the smoking spot.
It's hard to unsettle someone who isn't at fault.
The one who is at fault lives with chaotic thoughts.
While the other person listens to music, smokes the joint, and gazes into the distance, relaxed.
A good friend said that she had told someone at a house party about how she worked in that one clothing store back then.
The question arises: why is she still talking about her 2005 school internship in 2024?
Is she living in the past, or is she consciously protecting her lies?
The next part will analyze what happened with the second intern.
Then the shared behavioral patterns and their meaning in the matrix will also be listed.
In the coming days, it will also be explained why it is assumed that we live in a matrix and that

- time is an illusion -