Parting Words Regarding Humanistic Observation

Introduction

Humans are nothing if they are not predictable. The human condition is wrought with errors in judgment, poor choices, and the manipulation of behavior. A study of human behavior can be conducted through a laboratory controlled study, or it can be done as a naturalistic observation. In this essay, inadvertent research was conducted as a social experiment in a real-world environment in the popular world-wide social networking format: Facebook.

It is easy to find fault in others. The world is full of imperfect beings. We all have our faults and our promise. We all have ability to grasp that which is wonderful, or fall and become the worst of all human beings, and blame others for their own persistence and obsession into a dark place where the soul, if you believe one exists, will fester and boil until it becomes something so brooding and foreboding that it forgets that the once humanity-filled person becomes that which wishes to destroy rather than turn away from.

I am the product of the destruction, or the attempt at destruction. The following essay is written as a first-person account of how ugly, how hate, and how obsession can become so dangerously destructive that it can render a person mentally ill in their attempt to band other like-minded individuals into their hell, into their world of obsession and destruction.

I guarantee that most of those who are continuously involved in this strange and obsessive decision to destroy my ability to make a living, those who believe that by one person getting heart-hurt, they all have to band together against one single person who has literally left it all behind. I may have started new personas on Facebook, but I never once tried to reconnect with the person I’d hurt. Sure, I’d looked at his profile page, looked at his group, but I did not try to reconnect with him again. It wasn’t worth it to possibly cause more harm to him. I’d left it behind. He hasn’t.

I know you will laugh. Laugh away. I don’t care. I won’t be around to listen. You think you’ve won, but by being so ugly, mean, poisonous and obsessed, you have truly lost.

For those who aren’t part of the manipulated minions of one butt-hurt man, I hope you learn something from this, as I have.

Chapter 1 – The Beginning

I was introduced to a television program on a cable station: Outlander. It was already in the second half of the first season, so I did some binge watching until I caught up with the program then watched it weekly through the two seasons. But I get ahead of myself, here. I was interested in the genre, historic Scotland.

I wanted more so I started looking for books in the genre and discovered oh, so many of them! Hundreds, perhaps thousands of books in the Renaissance and Medieval

periods of Scotland, England, and Ireland. Wonderful books full of angst, adventure, lairds, ladies and romance. I couldn’t get enough of them!

That was in February or March, 2015. Then, one day I thought “I bet I can write one of those” and so I did. I wrote a book and my friend read it. She loved it and so I published it. People bought it and so I figured I would keep going.

Every two to three weeks, I had another book written in that genre. I wrote and published twenty-five books in less than a year. I was doing well, so to speak. I’d make a couple hundred dollars on those books which helped my meager income at my first seat of employment.

Then one day I wondered if there were books in another genre I had not considered before. Male/Male gay romance. I looked and sure enough! There were all kinds of books in that genre. I read a book by Danny Culpepper: Straight Man Gay. Then I read a second by that author. I found more and more and was as voracious with reading the books of this genre as I was with the historic fiction I started reading.

I decided to try to write a book in that genre, but decided that being a gay man writing gay fiction was more believable, so I took on a pseudonym. I am not using names here to keep all names out of public view. However, I’m relatively certain that the persons I allude to in the introduction are more than willing to tell you all the pseudonyms they presume me to be, thus reinforcing my own proof that what I wrote in the introduction is accurate and of some fact.

I wrote the book and wondered how to market it. I created a persona on Facebook. Everyone knew that the name I wrote under was a pseudonym. I did not keep that a secret. However, what I did keep a secret was that I was not a gay man. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t trying to hook up with anyone; I was trying to sell books.

I made friends. Hundreds of friends hooked their proverbial claws into me. Some tried to be helpful, some tried to be motherly (I did not like that one bit!). Some I approached through the whole author camaraderie belief.

Some nosy folks who didn’t respect my request for privacy started digging into me, my life, my private information. It made no difference if I told them to stop it. It made no difference that I was adamant that my personal life was not their business. Instead of respecting me, they tore into my background, my life, my real world; not the world of Facebook, but invaded my privacy to such a degree that I should have pulled back at that moment. Instead, I hoped for the best and blocked those nosy people who thought of me as some kind of minimal celebrity whose real life was somehow their business. I felt like I was being approached by the paparazzi. It was disconcerting.

When women start asking if they can watch gay men having sex, what do you do? I felt dirty, I felt exposed. What do you say to friends who think they are being funny, but they are being inappropriate? What do you say to someone who speaks for you, finishes your sentences and reminds you do things as basic as eating? You deal with it, bite your tongue, and try to stay a nice person.

Well, nice guys finish last. I can guarantee you of that.

Months into the life of a gay author, I started reading a book by someone I hardly knew, but thought would be a charming and funny addition to my friends. I popped him a private message and we started conversing. He is an interesting character, and showed signs of danger down the road that I didn’t pay attention to, though I do know I saw the signs. I should have been wary, but I was into the character I was playing and didn’t have a smooth way out.

For example, he had a birthday in September but didn’t change his age on his author bio. I posted, in the main FB comments, asking if he wasn’t older, now. Instead of just laughing it off, he got angry and told me I’d embarrassed him. I should have put that information in my “watch out for neurosis” folder for the man, but I didn’t. I got angry in return and we had quite a heated argument on Facebook Messenger. I have to admit, I did turn it around and try to sound like the “victim” but since I am not typically the victim type, it didn’t go over very well. We got through the argument but I never wanted to say anything to him again that would set him into such a tizzy. I began walking on eggshells because I didn’t want to lose his friendship. Stupid me.

Instead, I kept up the persona and we got closer and closer in private messenger. We both had significant others and both did not want them to know what was being said in those hot-and-heavy private messages. I respected that, to this day I respect that. I cannot say the same for the other party in this conversation. I won’t disclose anything here, either. I may not like the person I used to think I had strong emotions for, but I am not a homewrecker, nor am I a horrible person who wants to go around destroying another person’s life.

Months went by and the ugly as sin election cycle in the United States and a heated debate over BRExit in the UK became everything on Facebook. I really hated that. It made me angry, upset, and full of anxiety. I started feeling the effects of hate across the globe for a man that most of those cursing up had no power nor control over.

I started finding myself blocking, hiding, and ignoring a lot of people I had formed an affinity for in the world of books because they became political left-brainers and refused to hear that there were possibly new or alternative viewpoints they didn’t even want to hear about.

In early 2017, I had a very minor heart attack. It was more an anxiety attack than a heart attack, to tell the truth. I spent the night in a hospital and came home the next evening. I had those same people all trying to verbally coddle me and then some nurse, or some health care representative started spewing her own impression of how long a person should stay in a hospital after a heart attack.

Well, I don’t know about her, but I know what happened to me, and I know how long I was in the hospital, and I sure as hell know I missed a week of work that I could not afford to lose. That was the beginning of the end of that gay author on Facebook.

I said something to said weak-spirited author that I do not regret, but it prompted him to begin digging into my private and personal world, too. I have never, not even once, ever dug into the past, background, or personal life of another person. It is rude, and none of my business anything that I am not told from that person. I was sorely offended by his blatant desire to begin his now 8-month obsession into destroying my life.

He found that the picture I’d used was an actor that I doctored. Oh for God’s sake! There are millions of people on Facebook who do not use their own pictures.

I pulled off Facebook for a bit. I even tried to kill off the persona. Since I wasn’t really the gay man who wrote books people loved until I seemingly scorned a great many gay men and women who love them, who then started their awesome manipulated and orchestrated attempt to destroy my life and my ability to have a livelihood. Sorry, ladies and gents, no dice! I no longer work as I did, I no longer will share that information with anyone. You get persona, not personal.

For those who still had some form of affinity for me after the façade cracked, you are now whittling away, too. You’ve fallen into the manipulation of an ugly set of hearts who just cannot move forward and leave a benign and very minimal character in the bigger picture of the world alone.

Chapter 2 – Reconstructed

I created a new character. Someone who would write his own sets of books. Well, he started, and the final chapter will never be written. It took a lot less time to attack and destroy the recreation of an author who did the very best that he could to be kind to others.

It was kind of annoying to find that the man who I thought was an adult started digging again. He wasn’t content to know I wasn’t bothering him, but was doing positive things for many authors. So, I wrote a book review for him! So, I said nice things about his story. How dare I do that and then expect my personal opinions, my point of view, my privacy to stay intact. Good deeds never go unpunished.

It seems that by opening myself up as another person, and being kind in a review, I should be demonized again. I visited something called an Author Takeover to support an author friend of mine to find out that the unnamed author was part of the takeover. Too bad. I tried to keep a low profile. I didn’t speak to him that I can recall. Perhaps I did.

Anyway, he started trying to bait me. I knew I was who he thought I was, but since I wasn’t bothering him, why did he feel that it was his place and obligation to bother me? Who is obsessed here? Who has a problem that requires some psychological help? Who is the one who cannot just move on?

I digress. I vaguely responded to his bait comments but kept it straight and didn’t give myself away. He knew, but he had no real proof. His belief? My mannerisms and my politics. I am apparently the only person with my political views. That doesn’t go without some lack of common sense. There must be more with my views, as the man whose views align with mine got elected President, no matter how much vehemence and hate came across the world at him and at us, I’m afraid.

Anyway, I tried to live my life as an author again. It worked for a little bit. Just over five months and two books later, I start getting back on my feet. I have a couple of authors who ask me to edit their books and I give them a great deal.

Of course since I looked like I’m doing well, that someone had to dig into my life once more and start deciding that I am a pariah. I was nice to everyone. I was kind, generous, and would listen to them when they were distressed or when they had happy things to say. I wrote positive reviews, gave them a place to be interviewed and share their stories. I never stole anything from anyone. I only gave, never asked to receive.

So, that means I must be destroyed. Good job! This time, you found a way to search out my persona that was foreign. Heaven only knows what lies were mixed in with the truth, because I have not gone back since someone sent me that little Facebook “warning” that I am some kind of poison.

Think, former friends, when did I ever point my finger at someone you didn’t know? A few of you knew me and allowed me to be your friend in my second persona. A few of you dropped me like a hot potato when you somehow believe that my personal life is yours to know. A few of you got angry, one (that I know of) of my editing gigs pulled a book when I was about a third of the way through editing. I will reimburse that person 90.00 of the 125.00 she paid me because I’m not a thief. She’ll get her money in October, 2017. Like I said. I never stole anything from anyone.

I posted a single “Final thought” on Facebook, and closed both Facebook and Messenger, though I have not closed my accounts. I don’t care. If those exist and give you some way to attack me so that you feel better about your own perfect lives, go for it. The words will fall on deaf ears, or your like-minded minions, like the tree falling in the forest. I’m not going back to find out what you decided was worthy of your vitriol. Not my problem—it is yours.

So, here I am, a simple human being with simple attempts at the humanistic observation that has prompted me to do a full research study on the power and strength of the victim mentality. The manipulative authority of a whining, git who cannot even stand up as a man, tell his own husband to love him as he deserves to be loved, who cannot fight his own battles as a man, get through his own personal and overblown distress and live a freaking life of his own instead of trying to destroy the life and livelihood of someone who is so insignificant as to not even register as a person beyond my neighborhood.

It is such a sad thing to be so hated for something so minor. What a sad world you all live in. I hope you do not get your feet stuck in the mire of depression, anger, angst, and other negative emotions.

Me? I’ll be smiling and laughing with my real life, where people really respect me and do not wish to put me on a pedestal, nor drop me into a homeless shelter. You are not worth my time or energy.

Have a stellar life. You all deserve each other. Think as a crowd. It is what you do best. If any of you who have jumped on that bandwagon care to know... too bad. I do not.