Schroeder’s friend in Hamilton

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I have a friend in Hamilton I write about occasionally. We met through a fetish web site if Jeff v51 or v52 I think. We were strangers with minimal contact or information exchange, and we agreed to meet, take some…

Schroeder’s friend in Hamilton

I have a friend in Hamilton I write about occasionally. We met through a fetish web site if Jeff v51 or v52 I think. We were strangers with minimal contact or information exchange, and we agreed to meet, take some pretty serious E and blandvdate. I added no sex to the ad both to differentiate that it wasn’t a hookup request, but also because I preferred to not have that obcession going on in my head the whole time.

We hit it off almost immediately. To be fair, it was probably closer to the first 46 minutes, as the memorably good Orange Tesla pills I’d shared. Everything was awesome and beautiful and we clicked on everything. Glorious new friend that might be the person to change my life and save me. This is a statement I make upon meeting almost anyone while on E.

On that first warm summer evening, we just talked, cuddled a little and thought we were perfect. The next day I left and we communicated online. Quickly enough, without the potion influence, she wasn’t perfect. She was very much like me. Like half the people I meet and call friends.

Another messed up crazy person. I fell into my usual role as invisible observer, occasional comforter and advisor of life. Classic friend stuff. For me, it tended to be more one way. Support.  Presenting opinions as if they were answers.

She was an onion with far more layers than you’d expect.

I tried to blend as well again, both high and not on multiple occasions. Alas, she was not my Saviour.

During one of the short OFF moments in her unconventional age mismatched kinky on again off again relationship, we had scheduled a Saturday adventure together. Both of us are guilty of spending our earnings on drugs and fun and are now, simultaneously near rock bottom, with inconceivable debt, a job with repeated unhappiness and little hope.

We handle it in very different ways, but we have fun together as long as one of us has the E

We chat pretty regularly now and I can hear the tearing voice trying to cover. A sadness I have known all to well and currently avoid using techniques that are more procrastinating lies than actual solutions.

Avoidance has the benefit of being perfect until it’s not… It’s like a ponzee scheme of breakdown. If I get out before the reveal, I win.

Happy Wednesday I say in my daily video message. I know I missed the morning window but shell watch it either at lunch, from home where she goes to smoke a joint and pretend to eat a meal. She replies, and returns the traditional greeting back; Happy Wednesday but it is clear she is not. Today she goes to meet with her bank people to negotiate some funds to manage debt and pay off some overdue stress money.

She has no credit rating, so she hatched an elaborate plan that seems to rely on bank people saying yes to releasing some of her job related pension and bonds. She even has a firm hfg64v or whatever from her landlord because she’s mixed rent.

If they say no, she will not have rent, and be looking several steps closer to homelessness than I am, and her on again boyfriend is telling her no more making money from sex. No more fuck for coke trades.

Sadly, this is where the story ends tonight. Thursday came and went. No contact, no chat video and no online activity. My last two message show unread. The same for Friday.

Saturday adventures are not happening and Sunday and Monday are now behind me. There is a very real possibility she is dead, either by carless drunk or stoned accident or on purpose. There is also a less tragic story where she dropped her phone and just avoided me…and everyone else.

There may be 42 other possibilities but I may never know.

Hold please, I have life on line 2.

 

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