We were young, he was a bit younger than me. 26 and 18. He’d just had his 18th birthday, he and his mates wrecked the house in which the party was held, if I remember rightly.
I came from a stable home life, middle class eastern suburbs, he was from bogun stock. (I think his father made moonshine on the side) I thought he was a nice guy, a bit rough around the edges perhaps. I think that is what I thought of him, he was nice and I liked doing it with him. To him. He liked having it done to him.
He was a change of life baby, (hand to face) clearly a mistake, as he had much older siblings, all of who were in the services, police, army, firemen, suppositories for the less endowed with life’s opportunities, you get the type. I’m sure they all voted with the National Party.
He got thrown out of home by his deeply homophobic parents and disowned not long after we stopped seeing each other, when, in an unguarded moment he told his bible thumping ma and pa that he was gay. Out on his ear, no money and homeless, which resulted in a pretty disturbed Ivan, although that really came after he and I were done. I didn’t find out about this until sometime later.
I used to go and fuck his blokey arse on his bed at his place. Quite a number of times during the day when his parents were at work. I can’t imagine what would have happened if we’d been caught. It would have been a fucking nightmare.
He and I were very different, but we reconnected and kept up a kind of intermittent contact through our gay years on the gay scene over the years.
I had nice boyfriends. He became HIV positive, became an activist, then a drug addict, and then he spent some time in jail for bad things he did to people while he was under the influence of drugs. Hold ups with syringes of HIV tainted blood, that kind of thing.
His life got really fucked up, mine went from strength to strength.
Then we lost contact for some time, but recently we became acquainted again through a mutual friend.
He befriended on Facebook. He propositioned me and I turned him down. “I have a lovely boyfriend I don’t cheat on. Sorry.” The Paul Newman quote came to mind as I turned him down. Why would I go out for hamburger, when I have steak at home?
Ivan was impressed. That is his modus operandi, I would find out later. He’d proposition guys and then when they took him up on the offer, he’d call them dirty, cheating dogs and abuse them. I think he has separation issues.
I got to witness the true psychosis of his mental state through his ridiculous number of posts on Facebook every day. Too many. It did my head in.
He loved to tell people what the hell was wrong with them, but couldn’t handle any criticism, coming back at him. If that happened, he would rage against whoever the poor sap was who dared to question him.
Eventually, we had a disagreement about gay marriage and he blocked me, essentially, because I dared to disagree with him.
And that was that. It was a relief for me. Phew! Thank the universe that is over, is all I could think.
More recently, Aggro Ivan Gapp, or one of his many insane profiles, kept coming up on my Facebook feed because we are both connected to the same [name of page] group. So, of course, I had a look at what his current rave was all about. Same old stuff, look at me, look at me, look at me. Yap, yap, yap, yap, yap. Angry, angry, angry. Rage, rage, rage! He is always the victim of some perceived hurt.
He is smart, I will give him that. And he became an IT expert while he was in the slammer. In fact, he spent his entire time while locked up studying several degrees. Yay. Good for him.
Well anyway, he must have some app, or something, which has picked up that I have been looking at his never ending diatribe against the world. I didn’t think that was possible, but apparently it must be. And he has sent me a message, which I haven’t opened, but I can read the beginning of it. “Blah, blah, blah,” making demands of me. I can just imagine what the rest of the rave will be. So, the current mission, which I have accepted, is to exit stage left – he having multiple profiles withstanding – and to delete the message he has sent me without reading it.
I now invoke the Windsor rule with IG, and that is silence. I'm not going to respond, I am never going to respond to him, he comes with too much anger for me. He has proved to me that it is not worth my time to respond, it only makes him irrational if you don’t agree with him.
I don't believe he is rational, because he’s not. It would only lead to some sort of ranting circle of death, (figuratively speaking), where nobody gets out alive and everybody suffers. Life is simply too short to waste my time with this guy. Get therapy, is what I would say to him (such words would send him off in something that resembles a homicidal rave) … that is, if I even gave enough of a shit to say it.
He has many profiles and if necessary I will block every one of them, one by one.
His posts are mind numbingly boring and when he blocked me, however long ago it was, it was nothing but a great relief. I'm not heading back down that path of insanity with him.
Poor Ivan, I feel sorry for you, you are one fucked up unit, but I don't even have a second of my time to waste with you. Sorry. Bye luv. Felicia, ta ta, as they say.
Let's hope he doesn't obsess over me. Let's hope that is the last message I get from him. I'll float away into the distance, and once I am unattached to the [name of page] page, I will (mercifully) never hear from him again.
He is the first person I have deleted Facebook.
And then, out of the blue I get a friend request that says, “Ivan has accepted your friend request.” I never sent him a friend request.
First of all, I unfollowed him and put him on a restricted list, quick as a flash, thinking that would cover it, but 5 minutes later I unfriended him. I don’t want to be his friend, I don’t want to be subjected to the hate he spews over people, and I don’t want to receive his bordering on psychotic number of posts per day.
But, I didn’t send him a friend request? How did he do that?
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