Flying Monkeys

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Contrary to popular belief, narcissism can and does run in group dynamics too – it just plays out on an even more massive and destructive scale. Rather than one partner abusing another or  waging a post-abuse smear campaign, there is an entire group working to undermine and plot against a chosen target. The front-runners of such a group use enablers or what is colloquially termed “flying monkeys” to ensure that the recipients of such bullying are properly silenced. This is also known as “mobbing,” where a toxic individual enlists the help of others to carry out his or her vicious campaign and dirty work against another individual. To make the conspiracy all the more effective, the victim is further silenced. The narcissistic group feeds upon the victim’s insecurities and vulnerabilities to ensure that the victim feels too powerless to complain or take action. The manipulative leader finds ways to covertly abuse the victim so they can escape accountability for their actions. The victim is made to feel like and look like the “crazy” one – and everyone is able to avoid individual responsibility for inflicting harm and participating in the conspiracy.

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ws.PNGImage result for online narcissist predator psychopath2 years prior, I’d been chatting online with a guy and agreed to meet up. I told him upfront that I’d need at least an hour to get ready only for him to arrive ten minutes later. He was texting from his car, impatient as hell, and insisting on coming in that very moment. I got a bad vibe and said I was no longer interested in meeting, and had forgotten about that incident altogether. But then recently I saw he’d reappeared online, his GPS-location showing up a thousand feet away. We started chatting; he said he’d moved around the corner and then gave me his number, asking me to send a text. I decided to given him another chance, thinking, “Why not? I’m lonely… Ben’s gone… and this guy’s my neighbor, so maybe this time around he’ll be a bit more chill. You only live once, right? ” 

You only die once, too…

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BadIllegalGermanwirehairedpointer-max-1mbWhen he responded to my text, his a4a screen name, apexpredaTor, appeared underneath his message, like a signature; only it wiggled around my screen oddly. I hadn’t seen anything like that before. Then something even more odd happened: his number started wiggling, as well… and began to move outside the message towards the top of my phone. I did a double-take: was this really happening? What the hell is happening here?

I pinched myself: no, I wasn’t dreaming. Whatever this oddity was, it was really happening before my eyes.

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Suddenly the number settled down, replacing my number in the spot designated for the phone’s lead contact. As if that wasn’t odd enough, then the number changed into another number – WTF?!?!? This was beyond perplexing and unnerving; I texted the number:

What are you doing? Are you hacking into my phone?

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stalking.PNGI heard the ring tone of a phone go off nearby; I’d recently bought a track phone to have as back up amidst my cell phone turmoil. It was my track phone that received the text I thought would be received by the guy in the profile. The screen began to flash and flicker before going black and my little Track phone was dead thereafter. I have no idea how this happened, and no, I wasn’t high or drunk; how this occurred, how someone even knew the number for my track phone, when I didn’t know it, was beyond me. I tried to send him an email through adam4adam and noticed his profile was already deleted.

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I contacted DC police, who arrived within a few minutes; they weren’t very helpful nor sympathetic:

So… what crime exactly was committed here? Maybe you should be evaluated by a doctor.

As subsequent hacks led me to call the police repeatedly over the next few months, their responses were always dismissive:

If this phone is causing you problems why not get rid of it? What do you really need a phone for?

Or they’d make remarks like:

You can’t live without the internet? Don’t you remember life back in the day when you didn’t have technology? Life was probably better back then, wasn’t it?
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The officers clearly enjoyed using their internet-ready smart phones, they’d frequently cut me off mid-sentence to answer them and discuss more important crimes. I’m not a mobile forensics expert or I’d have known what was going on, but the police seemed irritated that I was clueless; I could only describe the events that took place, not the technology component behind it. They acted annoyed, like I was intentionally wasting their time.  Ultimately DC MPD informed me they don’t investigate cyber crimes outside of fraud; they advised me to contact the FBI who turned out to be equally as unhelpful.

jizI always spoke to the same woman at the FBI each time I called, and I came to know her well over the next few months. She was bland and had absolutely no sense of humor, and she had no interest in assisting me, either. I imagined her looking just like Jodie Foster in The Silence of the Lambs for some reason; she had a slight Southern twang in her voice and would frequently become short with me and hang up if I disagreed with her. It seemed like my calls were diverted to her whenever I called the FBI. And no matter what I reported, no matter what I said to refute her advice, she always gave one of two answers:

That’s not a crime… (it’s not a crime for someone working undercover in law enforcement to…. have sex with someone they’re trying to get in trouble with the law, invade someone’s privacy repeatedly, place spy cameras in their house, arrange fake dates for them, make sure every day ends in rain to further drag them down… none of that is against the law. Have a good night!)

Or else she’d say:

That’s an internet crime. Report it to the IC3.

Related imageThe IC3 never responded and I sent numerous emails that summer.  Not to mention these weren’t internet crimes either. These were organized, privacy-invading, mind-fucking crimes aimed at confusing me, causing me to doubt my sanity, and convincing everyone else that I was crazy. Hack after hack soon consumed my mind, I couldn’t get anyone to help, and I couldn’t find anyone who’d pay me and my phone issues any attention.

Why was my phone of such interest to others? And why did it all seem related to Ben? Here I thought Donald Trump as president was unbelievable, but it turns out, Ben was even more powerful, Ben seemed to be in control of everything… and not once did any officer bother to take down his name or number and contact him. This was beyond frustrating – I was on my own here in dealing with whatever this was; finding assistance proved to be impossible.

reI saw the same profile online several months later, now with a different screen-name.

Whoever / whatever he was, he wasn’t some random gay guy looking to meet for friendship or fun. He was an impostor, he was a fake, and he saw fit to destroy my track phone – my best guess – because whomever he worked for was tracking my communication… and it’s easier to monitor one phone instead of two. He even sent me another message referencing his hack job:

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Life was changing: big brother, or better said, bigger brothers, were on me from all angles, flexing their muscles. As more and more strange, unexplained events took place, I found myself anxiety-ridden, paranoid, and I eventually settled into a chronic state of fight or flight; it wasn’t good for my body or my mind, but it’s like I went into “survival mode.” I didn’t know what to make of things, I only knew that things weren’t good. I was unable to concentrate at work or anywhere, I was unable to sleep, and I was unable to do anything but ruminate over what the fuck was going on.

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Then I began to notice something peculiar: all the profiles around me online looked… a bit “off,” they had this narcissistic flair that left me questioning:

Is it the profile, or is it me? Is it the profile, or is it me?

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At first, I thought I knew the answer:

It’s not me, it’s the profiles.

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Image result for narcissist flip scriptEarly on in the fake profile epidemic, before I started taking screen-shots of what I saw (before I became suspicious that the profiles were fake and malicious), one day I began to notice that there were all these HOT guys that had moved in right down the street from me. They were all black, they all wanted white guys only with profiles saying things like “black pole looking for white hole.” They all blatantly advertised wanting to have unprotected sex – and they all were HIV-negative, too, however. And they all had boyfriends. My neighborhood used to have no options when it came to hot, black guys into white guys whereas all the sudden there was such an influx I couldn’t believe it. Only… they all grilled me about my HIV status, and since they were in search of unprotected sex only, I was frequently rejected. I didn’t know why they were all searching for sex online if they had boyfriends, too. I remember thinking to myself,

Geesh, everyone has boyfriends… just like Ben…

It hit me: could these profiles be attempting to flip the script on me? By surrounding me with guys that only had boyfriends, guys that wanted unprotected sex, and guys that I found hot – I had no other options but to converse with them (I had the option not to log on, of course, but I wanted to meet someone now that I was solo) and by doing so it portrayed me as someone I was not. The set-up almost portrayed me and Ben as switching roles – as if to suggest that I had no respect for others’ boyfriends, others’ health, and I treated others guys recklessly. This seemed to be in line with a narcissistic smear campaign… only this was just too absurd – and high tech – to be the work of Ben, of course. All these hot new neighbors suddenly vanished within a few weeks; they must not have liked the neighborhood and managed to find leases that didn’t penalize for moving out early. Or else… they must have been fabricated.

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I’d never seen so many trannies on Grindr before; I’d never seen so many profiles with the names Alex and Ben, either. This was odd… but it had to be a coincidence as opposed to some giant plot to fuck with my head, no?

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What was stranger was how these profiles seemed to follow me around… they’d be close to me at home, they’d be close when I left work 10 miles away, it was as if they were surveying me.

Only this is all too crazy to be real… this all had to be in my head…

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…don’t you think? This isn’t possible, no way!

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Despite the resurgence of people wearing animal gear, I had to think rationally, I had to use logic, to determine what was real, what was C-PTSD from so much narcissistic abuse and that god awful hack / POPO ending to what might be real. I concluded:

It’s too much stress; too much gaslighting from Ben has gotten the best of me.

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Despite thinking logically, I couldn’t contain my inner-bitch, however. I’m not one to typically pick on others, but I’m about to start; I’m sorry but these profiles were a bunch of freaks.

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These profiles just kept getting all the more bizarre and ugly; and these uglies seemed to be stalking me to no end, even if it was all happening in my mind. Why would some dumb ass post that stupid ass cartoon picture for his profile? Why would someone post a picture of hem appearing to have mental retardation or cerebral palsy? And why were they, more often than not, an exact 1 or 2 miles away from me? No wonder blocking the guy below never seemed to work – he kept coming back with new profiles to harass me I now realize as I see how he’s changed the names, therefore creating all new profiles. Relentless these fakes were in their mission to harass me…

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It seemed like with every strange profile I’d see, I’d make a mental note of ; then, like clockwork, each one would reach out and hit me up. they always claimed to have just moved into the area. I’d see them online every single time I logged on up until one day when they’d vanish for good. It was as if they moved out of town a few weeks after moving in, too.

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I’m sorry… but that dude looks creepy as hell below; reminds me of some serial killer or weirdo. The first time he messaged me because I felt something was “off” in that eerie facial expression; I felt like it was another fake and so I blocked it. Only the next day, dude’s got a new profile and sends another message with that God awful nude shot. Someone’s definitely trying to fuck with my head!

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Who posts a picture of their face with a sunglass tan / burn, thinking its a good strategy to attract potential suitors? I could be wrong, maybe that look is in these days… but then there’s that other profile aged 69. I have no fucking clue what’s going on there – but I wanna say that’s a female politician, no?

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Whomever she is: Grindr’s terms of agreement specifically forbid impersonations… and Grindr is an app for GAY MEN, not female politicians.

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Animals? Since when did it become hip to dress up like an animal? I must be behind the times… or maybe crazy-ass Kubrick came back from the dead and spread the hype of animal outfitted sex to his Eyes Wide Shut wasn’t meant to watched with eyes sewn shut.

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…or maybe someone really was fucking with my head? Maybe that someone was Ben… these profiles often made me think of him; their language, the way they’d express interest in meeting immediately only to bail at the last minute.

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None of the typical faces I’d seen for years were present anymore, there was suddenly an influx of new, more often than not, non-African-American, crazy-looking folks with rather odd, often similar-themed profiles having taken over my neighborhood.

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I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t use the picture below to attract potential suitors. But to each their own; maybe there are a lot more chubby-chasers than I was aware… or maybe these stalkers were selecting the most outlandish profiles they could create. It definitely left me questioning my sanity, it definitely threw me off, and it definitely resulted in my sex life coming to a dead end.

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Image result for narcissist character assassinationMore and more profiles would move in down the street, only to move out a few days later. I noticed several recurrent themes that seemed to want to flip the script: they’d have boyfriends (like Ben), they wanted threesomes, they were HIV negative but wanted unprotected sex. I came to deduce they were trying to flip the script because by me replying, it made me look like I went after guys with boyfriends, I was into threesomes, and I wanted unprotected sex with guys that were HIV-negative; they seemed to want to paint me out to be the bad guy.  Guy after guy was from – you guessed it – Virginia – yet somehow they were all super close to me in location despite Virginia being a good 8+ miles away.

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The one above initially showed up a few hundred feet away and hit me up; hours later when he did again he was at home in… Virginia. A few minutes later his profile was deleted. All these damn Virginians were suddenly in my neighborhood. Whomever said Virginia is for lovers was wrong, it’s for stalkers and haters and phonies.

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I also began to notice every time I was on Grindr, this stupid profile – POZ – would “tap” me or send this nasty ass message per below; I’d block him – and he’d then triple-toucan-message me again – despite me blocking him, he was able to get through. So annoying…

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No matter how often I blocked him, he’d reappear, showing up in close proximity leaving me with an eerie, creepy feeling that someone was definitely stalking me and harassing me about my HIV status. Like below: HIV POZ suddenly appears right next to me, meaning his GPS location is the closest of any profile on Grindr at the moment…

…or in the below, POZ “tapped” me from all of 0 feet away.  Creepy…

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Malkyja is a name that was very similar to Ben’s long-standing nickname. And his ageist remark made me think of Ben, also… plus he was located in, you guessed it, Virginia.

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The below was sent 4 months after the first one… same pick-up line, too. There are only 2,000 profiles online at any given time on adam4adam, yet the same profiles in Virginia managed to see and contact me time and again. Go figure!

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Malkyja continued hitting me up to point out things like I was up really late, or other stupid shit that nobody would say in real life – especially not someone living all the way in Alexandria, VA. 6 months after his first message to me, he changed what his profile said – as you can see below – it suddenly references none other than the Apex Predator – the screen name of the first profile that destroyed my phone.

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This was no coincidence, but yet again, was a way of dangling a giant middle finger in front of me that I couldn’t react to. I was definitely being cyberstalked, and those behind it weren’t kind, they were ruthless, they were nasty, and they were dead set on destroying me it seemed.

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The profiles, of course, often referenced drug use, asking if I’d like to parTy.  EVERYONE seemed to be on PrEP, too. I realize a lot of gay men were taking PrEP now, but this was disproportionately high based on current statistics.

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Suddenly every gay man in Washington, DC wanted to do nothing but drugs. There were no good influences around me, there were no potential friends, there were only drug-addicted assholes surrounding me.

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poz2There was one guy I’d chatted with repeatedly over the years, he’d sweated me to no end to meet up. He asked if I “partied” and I told him no, and he stopped chatting altogether, and never spoke to me again. Had this fake profile spent YEARS talking to me, trying to constantly bait me into saying I did drugs?!?!? That’s how this was beginning to look – so someone clearly spent a shit ton of money, massive amounts of technology, not to mention man power – all to create these stupid fake profiles aiming to bait me into saying things that made me look like a bad guy, made me look like Ben, or made me feel bad by constantly harassing me or blocking me the moment I unlocked my face pic. I’m not THAT ugly…

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The below is typical for what I experience regularly: a guy contacts me and wants to meet up. I agree, he says he lives right up the street and he’s on his way – only shortly after being on his way, from less than 2000 feet away, twice he asks if I “party” – a reference to meth. I tell him no, and suddenly he vanishes from existence – despite having been just a few hundred feet away at that point. This same scenario has happened time and again, whomever is behind this, really really wants me to appear like I’m into drugs – which is consistent with the organized stalking theme of having the target be associated with a derogatory theme such as drug use, prostitution, etc…

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No, I don’t want your raw nutt and I don’t give a shit about your open relationship or anything about you, Poz!!!

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Capital T’s refer to meth; the term “point” refers to injecting it, nasty, but for some reason Grindr allows people to openly advertise IV meth use despite it’s rules prohibiting profiles advertising illicit substances. This was so juvenile only Ben could be behind it.

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Even a neighbor who I met, who didn’t know about Ben, was suddenly referencing Ben in his Grindr response to me… right next to the the guy looking for sex righT now.

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The first profile: he randomly hit me up on day, and of course – he was from Alexandria, VA, and within a few texts, he asked me if I liked to ParTy – like the rest. He got the block.

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Only about 2 months later, there he is again, showing up GPS-wise 500 feet away – and no, he was not inside my condo. Same picture, again form Alexandria, VA; only when I looked at the Grindr main screen which shows all the profiles located in regards to you – he wasn’t there. He didn’t show on the main screen, and he should have shown up right, snug next to me given he was only 500 feet away. But he didn’t appear there at all. Where he did appear was under the FRESH FACES section – which is where brand new profiles show up. His profile wasn’t brand new, I’d seen it before. The fishiness continues to mount with the fake profile brigade.

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These profiles were beyond aggressive in hitting me up for sex, they’d immediately cut to the chase. Their greetings were forced and awkward: “Sup?” or “Wanna fuck?”

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she.jpgThere were suddenly all these women on Grindr, and it’s an app for Gay men (lesbians are even excluded). Some were transgender, which I think still falls under the umbrella of “gay men” whereas real ladies don’t, even if they look strangely like your grandma or some famous politician. This was definitely a huge change from what I experienced during the nearly decade before chatting it up on Grindr.

I was used to guys being blunt online – but they became way blunt out of nowhere. My profile pic is a headless torso, yet these new profiles would ask to meet up without asking to see a face pic first – nobody does that – this was odd, these profiles couldn’t be real people I was convinced.  But location-wise, they were always super close, often fixed at 1 mile or 2 miles away. They’d send me a brief greeting – “hey there!” – and then immediately send me their phone numbers expecting me to text them. After my recent experience with that text turned hack, I wasn’t about to text any stranger nor give out my phone number to anyone. Most of the fake profiles insisted on meeting guys that were “clean” only, the derogatory way of suggesting HIV-positive men were “dirty.” This happens all the time in gay culture – but in another “is it them or is it me?” moment these profiles seemed to over-emphasize this, I’d never seen a resurgence of the terms “clean” and “ddf” (disease and drug-free) like I had here. Since becoming infected, I’d left my status blank in profiles, which everyone knows means positive anyway. But often these profiles would hit me up, they’d ask where I lived, they’d ask to meet up and right as I was about to hop in the shower they’d ask me about my HIV status. And every time when I’d tell them, they wouldn’t ignore me, they wouldn’t even block me, instead they’d all make really insensitive remarks and keep on going. This wasn’t normal, this seemed fabricated, this seemed like a way of using fake profiles to harass and belittle me. Initially it was also so bizarre and hard to believe that I chose to ignore it, thinking most of this had to just be in my head. In time I came to believe it was intentional. The term “stats” refers to HIV status; you can see in the below, the only comment left was about my blank status – and by the time I saw it the profile had deleted itself. Hmmm….

Is this in my head, over-thinking things? Or is it actually the profile?

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One 3 separate occasions while arguing with Ben over text, things got ugly, once I threatened to tell his boyfriend everything. Like clockwork, at the boiling point with each fight, suddenly 3 different random guys hit me up asking for sex – and I wasn’t even logged into Grindr.

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bfp.jpgIt was as if Ben had some guardian angels, or guardian demons, overlooking our conversations, stepping in to help him when things got too heated to relieve him; it didn’t seem fair. Not only did I not have anyone assisting me, I had no ability to even access the assistance available without someone from his camp preventing me from making contact.

It was as if Ben was playing a mean joke on me – having our arguments interrupted with guys trying to lure me from texting Ben with sex. Only in typical narcissistic style, or what I’ve come to expect from Ben, they’d lead me on, get me all excited, and thinking I was finally going to meet someone new, then abruptly they’d turn me down, disappear or block me.

It seemed as if someone had the ability to view both my phone and Ben’s, real-time. Later on it seemed like this someone could spy on the phones of others involved – Ben’s boyfriend, the detective Ben supposedly worked for, even a random “friend” I came to believe knew about this plot. One evening I called this “friend,” knowing he can’t carry a poker face to save his life, and addressed him as if he knew what was going on:

So: why haven’t you told me about what they’re doing to my phone and with all this hacking nonsense?

My friend began to speak, his words shaking with anxiety, the pitch of his voice raising octaves:

Remember… ummmm… I was the only person that got to read John’s file. In it said that, well…

I thought I was about to get an admission and decided to hit the “record” button on my phone, when he suddenly screams out like a girl:

Don’t record me! No, no…. you’re CRAZY! None of this exists, you’re imagining things. You’re CRAZY!”

How did he know I was reaching for the record button? He was the craziest guy I knew – why was he calling me the crazy one? He refused to answer my question, saying he’d talk to me in person. When I saw him in person, he told me that he had nothing to say, except that I seem to be crazy. Hmmm… it seemed like one of Ben’s guardian angels, or demons, had gotten to him. Who else was part of this plot? Did I have any “real” friends? Because… it almost seemed like my circle of friends, looking back over the last few years, had been “planted,” that none were authentic or real. I don’t know how else to describe it, but that’s the impression I got.

CUTOnce I reached out to the detective Ben supposedly was an informant for, complaining about his hacking, and he initially replied with a normal message encouraging me to go “no contact” with Ben. Only a minute later he called me, screaming on the phone at me, threatening to get me fired. It seemed like after he received my initial text, addressing him as if I knew as fact Ben worked for him (I was sure) – only to have whomever was looking after our phones contact him to say, “No, don’t even acknowledge you know Ben, Alex doesn’t have any solid proof.” That may seem like a bit of a conclusion to make, only this sort of thing must have happened 100  times… I don’t know who or how, but someone(s) had the ability to monitor my phone and spy on me real-time, and they had the ability to do the same to the various “players” involved in this smear campaign.

csNot only did Ben and his fake profiles take every cheap shot possible, they often knew a bit too much about me. They knew information that wasn’t possible unless they were somehow spying inside my house, like my condo had been bugged with spy cams for this group of flying monkeys to monitor. Once my bed was covered in laundry, and a Grindr profile says:

You should have folded your clothes after washing them last night. Leaving them out on your bed is no good!

How the hell did he know I’d done just that? Were there cameras in my bedroom? I know this could be my own paranoia, maybe I was reading too much into things, but I’m sorry – there’s no way this profile was real, take a look, I bet you’d concur. And while many guys put up goofy profiles, they don’t do so to this extent, especially when the purpose of these apps is to meet guys and hook up.

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poz2The same damn people in the profiles kept coming back, often with different pictures. I guess that’s not such a strange concept as most people do it, but… the profiles themselves are just bunk – complete bunk. They’d show up looking strange in one profile only to show up looking strange in another pictures later on. What really freaked me out was when I began seeing the same profiles that were close to me at home show up really close when I would get out of work…. and no, it wasn’t that my GPS wasn’t updating, it was that somehow these same profiles were actually appearing to going to the same places I went. I honestly stopped sleeping well at night, I was scared and freaked out all the time. Reading the articles on gang stalking – in which part of the crime involves covert mind-control using radiation and microwave frequencies directed at the target from satellite or cell phone towers from a distance – I know it sounds unbelievable – but that’s what group stalking entails according to all the articles. Gang stalking as its described sounds like hell on Earth – it’s intention is to:

  • Drive the target crazy; have the target labeled as being crazy by others.
  • Have the target lose their job.
  • Have the target institutionalized in a psychiatric facility or in jail.
  • Drive the target to suicide; “kill” the target with cancer and other ailments caused by radiation. However you want to see it, death is in the end goal.

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Needless to say I became fearful all the time, I experienced invasive, dark and frightening thoughts 24-7, I was consumed by what was happening despite not being able to explain any of it, not being able to decide it it was even real or not. I developed symptoms of PTSD, lots of symptoms; my performance at work tanked.

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One day I finally got a call back from the police! I was thrilled as I thought someone reaching out like that must want to assist me. I was wrong:

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pozI’d told my boss leaving work that day, all super excited to finally be acknowledged by the police, that I was expecting to finally make headway and get some answers. Not only was I bummed by the lieutenant writing me off completely, my boss chose the following day to put me on a Performance Improvement Plan lasting 2 months. If I failed it – that meant i lost my job. Fuck… how could this be happening? I didn’t invite any of this on myself, at least I didn’t think so. The articles on gang-stalking seemed to be playing out perfectly right before my eyes, exactly as they said it would: the police, the FBI, nobody would help me; I was losing my mind, I was freaking out all the time; I was doing so poorly at work they wanted me gone. It seemed like everyone was working together to secretly destroy me. It seemed way too perfectly crafted to be actually occurring, only… it was.

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It was as if these fake profiles knew what was going on in my life and decided to mock me with a giant middle finger, suddenly they seemed to be making fun of my job woes.

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Suddenly my inbox was filled with… job listings. Someone found it amusing to have my email account subscribed to numerous daily messages about job openings!

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I ultimately ditched that particular email account as if was overtaken with job-related emails, just like my life had been overtaken by fake fucking profiles!

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I bitched to Ben that he’d stressed me out to the point of nearly getting fired, and suddenly Ben turned into this loving, caring, compassionate friend.

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Or else he’d throw out some comment using sex as leverage if I questioned him or blamed him for what was happening:

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realityyWhat came to be a bit frightening and almost traumatic was the realization that I’d been living in a fake reality, controlled by someone else, going on 3 years. Yes, you read that correctly. I’d been chatting with many of these profile regularly for years, I’d considered many to be friends despite never meeting them in person, and some I actually had met and hooked up with – and they were involved. Somehow Ben had concocted this scheme right after round 1 ended in flames. He knew about this fake reality the entire time during round 2, yet he played the role of loving pseudo-boyfriend perfectly, discarding aside, never giving away even a hint at what he was doing. Ben was the narcissist of all narcissists, and him telling poz2me to get out of his life, discarding me left and right, was all just a giant smoke screen to humiliate me: because he didn’t actually want me out of his life. Fuck what he said he wanted, we all know it was always a lie and the opposite of what he desired, the truth was no matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried, there was absolutely no way to get Ben out of my life. He’d embedded himself in my technology in a way that I couldn’t remove him, and worst of all, I now faced the tragic reality: my second attempt at love was present only to systematically destroy me, take over my reality completely, and turn the entire gay app world against me. Ben had been controlling my sex life for years indirectly, and he was dead set on controlling my sex life until it killed me. Ben was the writer, director, creator, and controller of everything, it’s like he felt he owned me.

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Think of it this way: as a gay male believing Grindr was real people surrounding me, believing these profiles were real, having all these bad influences encouraging sex and drugs and promiscuity and infidelity – my perception of life became skewed – and all because someone else was running the show, and for some reason they wanted to expose me to bad hook-ups and ridicule. I was pissed.

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sf.PNGI’d been unaware of Ben’s experience in telecommunications and cloning phones prior to the incident with the “cloned” phone. Recording that conversation turned out to be the wisest move I’d ever made, because no matter what he said to gaslight me into doubting myself, I had solid, irrefutable proof I could quickly listen to to bring me back to reality. If I thought Ben was out to hurt me before, it was apparent that he was out to destroy me, he was out to confuse me, he was out to leave my wheels spinning permanently, and he was out to drive me insane; and he was succeeding.

Whomever backing him had ensured that this fake profile pandemonium wasn’t explainable or traceable by any means; they ensured that anyone I tried begging for help from thought I was a lunatic. Ben and his constant name-dropping of “those people” led me to believe that they’d sent him back to punish me, to teach me a lesson for calling him out on being a narcissist years prior. This was petty, this was middle school, but regardless, this was maddening.

Related imageIf my suspicion was true, then were the last 2 years of my life with Ben were nothing but one, giant, manipulative lie. That meant Ben never had any romantic interest in me to begin with; those 2 years were nothing but his master plan to destroy me; only I managed to foil it by discovering his “cloned” phone and now there was hell to pay for it.

This was the most expensive, intense, technologically-advanced smear campaign in the history of Narcissistic Personality Disorder. This turned into one giant flipping-of-the-script with the content in the profiles, too. It was just like what I’d read in the textbooks about the narcissist’s smear campaign, only this was revival for the new millennium. Two years of my entire life, and God knows  how many of my future years, had been manipulated because I suggested Ben was a narcissist. And what was happening around me proved beyond any shadow of a doubt: Ben was the most narcissistic of all narcissists in the universe. My theory may seem absolutely ridiculous based on logic – but reading more on Narcissistic Personality Disorder and smearing the victim, my theory was the most logical explanation.

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For someone claiming to hate control, Ben sure appeared to feel the opposite. He’d been planning various ways to control every aspect of my life for years in the making. This was big brother, it was HUGE brother, this was beyond controlling and manipulating, this was owning me without my consent. This was beyond unfair, this was flat-out stalking and harassment only with that goddamn narcissistic flair, “Is it him or me?” lurking behind every corner.

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pozI would have never known a thing had I not gotten that “apology” from Ben. Here I thought I was so lucky to get an apology from a narcissist, only I should have known it was not going to be an actual apology. It could only be a manipulative move to benefit him and screw me over, while temporarily fooling me into believing I’d come out winning. I lost nearly everything as a result of that goddamn half-assed apology. I welcomed Ben into my house so he could steal my Wi-Fi password and take even more control over my reality.

I’d unknowingly and unintentionally created my own demise; and no matter how hard I knowingly and intentionally fought to get it back, there was no beating this beast.

This could not be reality, only… it was reality, and I was stuck with this reality, there was no way out and I no longer had any control regarding anything.

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I started finding errors in a lot of the profiles; they’d frequently use the same, exact pics – it’s as if someone wasn’t doing a good job at keeping track of the fakes, as if someone didn’t think I (or anyone) would pay enough attention to recycling the same pictures or penises. They’d often all be trolling around the site at the same time online, it wasn’t like they were trying to actually meet people, their only intention: finding drugs.

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Drugs or no drugs? Safe sex or raw? Every single profile was suddenly staunchly a supporter of meTh or against it, and the gays seemed to find it necessary to take up sides on Grindr or a4a of all places to voice their opinion. For those that don’t know, PNP = part and play (AKA doing meTh and having sex). Suddenly, every single person in DC was on PrEP (except me). I’d been HIV+ going on 2 years at least, and I didn’t care about PrEP anymore, I didn’t even think about having HIV anymore by this point. Maybe I was just reading too much into things… but it almost seemed like someone was taunting me…

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One day I got hit up back to back by two profiles I was certain were fakes; as soon as I called them out, each one immediately had the same reaction, something typical of Ben: they blocked me in tandem – instant simultaneous silent treatment. I knew then and there this had Ben written all over it; I was certain he was behind this somehow.

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Again: POZ shows up to harass me, and he’s just 0 feet away, surprisingly. This was starting to get behind invasive and personal, this was frightening to no end…

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With the above, I just knew it was Ben by the crass nature of the wording. Although it’s since been removed, I looked up “DEA 12 1/2” online; while I’m not sure what the 2 indicated, I was surprised to read that the number 12 was slang for DEA.

Go figure…

Then one day way down the road via email, Ben mentioned that screen name out of nowhere.

Only he denied knowing anything about it. What were the odds of that? Ben knew way too much about this nightmare that had come my way; these weren’t just random coincidences, either – he’d allude to just enough specific detail making it apparent he knew what was going on; yet what he said was vague enough that he could still deny it. These profiles seemed too strange; everything started to become insane, I couldn’t explain anything and if I tried to explain it to another person, they thought I was crazy. So I kept my mouth shut… at least as best as I could.

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What was going on was not only strange, it was targeted at me somehow; the profiles were referencing things specific to me and Ben, or at least one of us, almost always.

 

My Story of Gang Stalking, Corruption and Domestic Terrorism https://www.facebook.com/DebMatheny is what happened to me for blowing the whistle on St Louis County/State of Minnesota/DFL, CORRUPTION.

Below is one of my first realizations, I’d say he’s one of my favorites, too, the screen name is great: ShowOffBulges. Despite his profile saying he lived in Dupont Circle, he told me repeatedly he lived right by the cemetery near me. He always managed to show up around 2000 feet away from me despite his profile’s address being miles away. He always used one of Ben’s favorite terms, greedy bottom.

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This one above just looks like one giant, fucking lisp; she hit me up twice with the same, stupid line about open door at her place for tops. The second time she hit me up with the same annoying pick-up line despite me having a new profile without even a picture posted – when I pointed that out she immediately blocked me and disappeared for good.

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There even are wanna-be-fake profiles doing the same…

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These 2 both came over to my house… only to act up later on line and leave me believing they’d come like David, as part of whatever the hell this was.

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I don’t know… but these just don’t seem legit for some reason…

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Ben had left me for good, and the prospects of meeting someone to take his place, someone that actually loved me, someone that wouldn’t discard me, someone that wouldn’t play mind games, someone that was real seemed abysmal.

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And of course, this wasn’t just limited to Grindr, it was present on every gay app I visited, hell, it was even on Craig’s list. There was nobody real in cyber-land, and I sure as hell didn’t want love from a fake, fuzzy, claymation Muppet or cartoon.

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I longed for an actual human being. But nobody was cutting me any breaks as the profile landscape was nothing but fakes. Hell, even the fake profiles knew they were fake, but no one was willing to provide an explanation.

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Oh look: back again, somehow aware of me and the fake profiles at all greetings.

yofakefn.PNGI was certain this had to do with Ben; he must have access to technology through “those people” that could manually change the GPS-locations, fucking with my head. Ben was passive-aggressively lashing out at me. And apparently he called the shots, he owned gay everything, his fantasy-land-turned-nightmare for me proved that nobody cared about me at all, the entire world was enamored with Ben, me included (ashamed to admit it).

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The number of fake profiles grew exponentially, they’d contact me back to back, simultaneously, they’d even block me in tandem – it was coordinated, double silent treatment. This made me realize it wasn’t possible for Ben to be behind all this profile pandemonium. He must have assistants helping, there had to be some larger coalition at play here. But why would someone fund a million-fake-profile war against me?

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Their phoniness could be subtle or their phoniness could be blatant. But send a screen shot to Ben, and he’d always discount anything as out-of-the-ordinary:

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Bullshit! Ben’s response alone killed any shadow of a doubt that he wasn’t behind this. For Ben, of all people, to fail to see how fucked up things had gotten, for him not to even laugh a little at these images, that was quite telling… it was flat-out admitting!

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The first profile below is the elephant man from the movie Mask with Cher. I found it a bit ironic given the role masks play in narcissism, but again… maybe it was just me over-thinking things; or maybe it was someone else fucking with my head with these fake profiles.

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There were a few little themes that came and went with the fake Grindr profile brigage, too, like puckered lips and a droop eye!

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The theme of ptosis was prominent during the fake profile gang stalking. Perhaps someone with bad Botox skills decided to nail a bunch of homos or something…

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poz2This mess below (not referring to the mess to the right, Poz, whose presence became a staple of daily living) came along when I denounced Ben for dragging me into that threesome, which may have been a smoke screen to have me cross state lines so he could lie and implicate me in criminal activity. The “threesome period” like the “boyfriend period” was quite monumental in bringing out the freaks.

Below, the goddamn cookieFacTory repeadly showed up inside my condo (based on GPS) on adam4adam, Grindr and even Jack’d. When I blocked it, the profile still managed to reappear.  Clearly this drug-doing couple didn’t live that close to me, and they couldn’t be inside my condo like the GPS suggested, but they definitely made it inside my mind to fuck with me a ton, which seems to be the intention behind this entire juvenile stalking mess. Like the rest, they appeared for a few weeks and then disappeared only to reappear again months down the road. They also succeeded in leaving fear and paranoia inside my brain for some time to come.

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dt.PNGsm7While initially I was certain this was all directed intentionally at me, logic told me that wasn’t possible. Something like this would cost a lot, it would require rather sophisticated technology, not to mention a team of people all dedicated to driving me crazy. That just couldn’t be possible, it must all be in my head was the only logical conclusion.

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So for 2 entire months I walked around convinced that I was delusional and hallucinating, I had to be crazy to be seeing this shit. Only I eventually realized I can’t project a delusion onto a phone and screen-shot it. It was months after the initial hack job that I knew I wasn’t the crazy one at last; but when I attempted to explain this to others, I was always met with words insisting the contrary:

You know you’re crazy, right?

Me? I’m crazy? How about these guys below being crazy!?!?

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One day I googled the words narcissist, stalking and fake profiles, and up came article after article on a subject I’d never heard of before: gang stalking or group stalking or covert terrorism, it has several names. Pick your poison, but the articles all detailed the same, exact scenarios, and what they detailed was not only petrifying, it was nearly identical to my life. Only these articles went on to describe things far, far more heinous than just cyberstalking… they were so disturbing I couldn’t read on, and did my best to live in the world of denial instead.

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It’s not normal for some random stranger just to drop you a message and include their phone number… and even include their real name – Jaye. It’s also not normal for a phone to be registered to someone without a last name, either – just registered to a first name like Jaye. Then again, nothing in this whole situation is remotely normal, so it’s par for the territory I guess.

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I was certain somehow, someway, Ben or an affiliate was cyberstalking me. I sent Grindr a message about it and this was Grindr’s response, surprisingly:

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My profile pic, like many, was a headless torso: so what use was it to send in a photo of myself holding my email address? Grindr didn’t know who I was from any other headless torso for starters; plus – if someone’s being cyberstalked, why would you ask them to publicly display more of himself? This was really, really strange, that’s for sure.

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My once predominantly African-American neighborhood had rapidly changed online… at least on gay apps and websites like Grindr. Being GPS-based, it shows you all the gay men that are close-by. Now the people were all outlandish, they seemed a bit “off,” and the black men I was accustomed to chatting with had all vanished. In their place was a new crowd of trannies, warped faces, and aberrant outfits and animal costumes.

The drug motivation is quite apparent in the below, who only wants one thing: for me to say I do drugs.

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There were numerous profiles of guys I’d spoken to online casually for years; several lived in DC and didn’t drive, that I recalled from past chatting. Suddenly their same pictures were showing up on Craig’s list – only now they were not only mobile apparently, but they’d moved from DC to… Virginia… go figure.

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Or like Jubilee79… I remember talking her on multiple occasions over the last few years. She frequently brought up drugs, though. Suddenly, Jubilee’s got another profile – at least another profile’s using Jubilee’s picture. It’s an escort profile, though, and the age is 14 years difference… hmmm…. odd…. but they show up online so close together, as if something automated is logging these profiles on and didn’t realize that they were logging on two profiles using the same picture, using totally different information… it’s just odd… to me, at least, it showed this system of fake profiling the gay universe had some glitches.

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Ben and his compliments were always a bit back-handed. He referred to my penis as “his dick” only he would never tell me I had a big dick – he’d always stop just short of that by saying I had such a thick dick.  Profile after profile would comment on my “thick” dick, too. I don’t know, coincidence? Is it me or is it them?

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I knew where this conversation was headed immediately… he started inquiring about my penis… but only how thick it was. You already know where he’s located, too… Alexandria, VA. Now – it’s not like I live THAT far from Virginia – it’s about 20 minutes away… but in the 10 years preceding the onslaught of the profile wars, I next to never was contacted by those from Virginia, particularly not in my area of Dc.

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I hadn’t seen the below profile for a good year when he started up again, out of the blue; I thought he was real at first, just perhaps had been off the apps for a while; only he went right to the thick dick topic and I knew… these bitches had been plaguing me for quite some time. Were any profiles Grindr real at all?!?!?

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ParTy&BullshiT, below, blocked me moments after I told him I didn’t parTy…

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A week after receiving the above (he’d also said he lived down the street only I’d never seen him before), I logged on to adam4adam and saw the below, same screen name, his only comment being one that was all too familiar:

Phat dick.

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Grindr began a new feature – you could “tap” a profile as a way of getting their attention, without having to say something. I noticed that these fake profiles seemed to be the only ones ever tapping me. They’d tap me – and if I replied saying, “Hey how are you?”, they’d never reply for some reason. Why tap me then? I began to notice that with them, and many other profiles, their GPS locations would go from super close – to 1000+ miles away. Sometimes it would be in such a short period of time I didn’t know how it was possible, that is, unless these profiles were all being controlled remotely and they never were near me to begin with. The below showed up < 2 miles away the day before I saw them showing up thousands of miles away suddenly.

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poz2924 miles away below… and always having IPhones. I know IPhones are some of the most popular types of phone out there, however; but what’s always interesting is the following: gang-stalking involves “using IPhones to gain access to target home computer network.” It doesn’t involve Android phones or Blackberries – just IPhones. It seems like everything I point out as being “odd” could just be normal things and I’m fixated so much on it, that I keep seeing the normal as abnormal. Who knows; but like in narcissistic abuse, it leaves you asking yourself, “Is it them? Or is it me?” That’s what makes narcissistic abuse so frustrating and evil – your attempts to call it out for what it is are always met by the perpetrator telling you that you’re crazy and reading too much into things. Their way of harassing you is so subtle that they’ll easily deny it and likely find most side with them. They choose to do things in this manner just to further fuck over the victim, who’s left knowing full well that they’re being abused only their attempts to report it are met with contempt and disbelief.

GPS bringing these super-close guys up to say hello, then nothing…

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As there was the boyfriend phase of fake profiles, then came along the threesome profiles right after I called out Ben on dragging me out of bed for that threesome that looked like he’d turned into a fabricated crime. Goddamn him!

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This guy hit me up all the time; I love the below – when I pointed out he showed up nearby despite saying he was somewhere far, he played it off like he had to “adjust” his GPS – Grindr updates your GPS wherever you go, it doesn’t let you update it manually or fail to update. This was becoming so blatantly obvious to me that it was an attack on me.

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This one was random:  some guy in Texas on a site, INFJ12585 hitting me up with an “Oink.” An INFJ living all the way in Texas, same age as Ben, too…. what are the odds?

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Ben’s insistence on being an INFJ instead of a narcissist… he’d swear he wasn’t discarding me, but rather giving me the INFJ “garage slam” which is basically discarding someone, only done by an INFJ instead of a narcissist.

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The same guy on every damn site must have hit me up or “tapped” me 1,000,000 times…. rrrgh…. nasty! Just looking up the name associated with the number shows how fake this nonsense is… Joe Lumpkin… my ass… the number probably would have hacked my phone… so nasty…

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…and so relentless… these sketchy fake dudes keep on coming back again and again and again…

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One day I noticed a guy a few hundred feet from me on Grindr and, after a brief chat, I found out he lived right next door to my surprise. I’d never seen him before, though, which is odd given he lived so close. During our conversation I made mention of how the profiles seemed fake and sent him a few screen shots, including Miss Peaches below in the middle. A few minutes later, Miss Peaches sent me a message for the first time ever:

Come bend over.

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It seemed like quite the coincidence, given she’d never contacted me before.  Strange…

Then one day Ben mentioned he’d gone to see the movie Pacific Rim in a text. Seconds later I heard the Grindr alert – I had a new message. It was Miss Peaches again and for the second time her message seemed like a huge coincidence:

Can I rim you?

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When paranoia kicks in, it’s easy to make connections between things that don’t have any real connection to begin with. But these connections seemed way too coincidental to be happening at random; they seemed like the result of someone spying on my phone while controlling the goddamn fake profile brigade. But like always, there was no way to prove this whatsoever, there was no way to prove anything here as it seemed to involve Huge Brother(s). Rrrgh…

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I’d finally regained access to one of my apple ID’s that had been in recovery; when I went to text myself a message to remind myself of something, for some reason it was showing up in my contacts as being listed to a previous number of mine. I’d just done a factory reset on my phone and was using a new apple ID, so I didn’t think it should have any numbers linked to it. I typed the phone number into Facebook and it brought up the image below. The woman had a PhD in biochemistry and her face pic looked like a giant, irradiated head. I had 2 factor authentication on my apple ID and received confirmatory Image result for radiation gang stalkingtexts; meaning – nobody else should have access to the apple ID. When I called Apple I was shocked to find out – it was the old number, it was this woman’s phone number, linked to my apple ID according to Apple. How I was receiving the authentication texts, how I had active service linked to my phone, was beyond me and the Senior Apple Customer Service Representative. I called the woman on FaceTime actually – she said she’d just gotten the phone. I apologized for bothering her, telling her I’d been stalked by my ex and was concerned this was him. When I said goodbye, however, the woman looked to her right and began asking, “How do I shut this off? How did he know to I had his number?” Two men began to approach her on the screen before it went black. Given gang stalking utilizes radiation and electronic weapons, this was very disturbing. When I asked Apple if they could provide me with verification of this, they said they could not. No surprise…

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I’d been in contact with a man working for the Department of Justice / DEA who oversaw employee misconduct. I’d called a while back with concerns that Ben kept on hacking into all my stuff for “those people” and wouldn’t stop – and being that he was my ex-boyfriend (and a narcissist) – he couldn’t be impartial or even trusted, I was worried he was abusing his connections to abuse me. If Ben was an informant like the PI said, if he’d used that role to get revenge on me for “exposing” him as a narcissist years back, then he’d definitely crossed legal and ethical lines. This was outrageous government conduct that I was unable to stop; I needed help, and I wasn’t finding help anywhere. If this ridiculous theory was true – and I’ll be the first to admit it’s ridiculous, but I’ll also be the avincifirst to admit all the hard-core, tangible evidence supports this ridiculousness – tax payer money sponsored Ben using sex and fake love as well as creating a pretend bromance to exploit and destroy me.

So I’d reached out to the DOJ and immediately was put in contact with this guy; during our first conversation, he said he’d majored in psychology undergrad and was very familiar with NPD. He seemed sincere at first but then I got the feeling he might be leading me down a dead end with his advice. We’d spoken on several occasions and emailed a few times, as well. One day when amidst this cyber-nightmare, I sent him an email, only I received the error message below: address not found. That was strange, I’d spoken to him a few weeks back. As I sat there, staring at the screen confused, the man replied suddenly with a nasty message – only it quickly disappeared. In what I’d written to him, I’d mentioned how Ben was with me for TWO WHOLE years, leaving me to feel like I was government-funded narcissistic supply, I thought for sure he knew what narcissistic supply is given our first conversation when he told me majored in psychology and studied NPD. His response suggested he did not, actually, it suggested he was twisting my words to use them against me and lie about our conversation:

You just admitted you supplied his narcotics. You just admitted you committed a crime!

What, what, what?!?!? The message, however, was already gone, there was no trace, so I sent another message explaining what narcissistic supply was, again receiving the same error message that his email did not exist. There was another response and then he vanished for good, leaving me only with the traces of numerous emails being sent to him, each time receiving the same message that his address didn’t exist.

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Did he even exist to begin with? What was going on here, since when does the Department of Justice lash out at people with disappearing emails?  Later on I noticed my initial emails with him had the initial S, whereas these had the initial X; it seemed almost like whomever seemed to be intercepting my communications and screwing with my head might have intervened and actually sent these messages instead of him. When I resent him a message months later, I was shocked at his reply, which was 10000% a complete and total lie:

Why did everyone think it was acceptable for Ben to abuse whomever he wanted using sophisticated technology, at the expense of tax-payers, and with the approval of the federal government? How could this shit be actually taking place? I was at work when this happened – at work – this was incomprehensible.

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This was a battle that I had no chance of winning let alone surviving. I just wanted my basic civil rights and liberties – I just wanted my privacy back, I just wanted to live without being cyber-stalked like this, and I believed I wasn’t asking too much at all. I came to find out I was, Ben was definitely more powerful than President Trump, how and why I had no clue, but I seemed to be stuck with this awful reality regardless.

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My job was now on the line; I’d come to believe my entire gay surroundings had been manipulated for years by Ben and company. I was pissed, I felt violated, I felt like this pozwas government-funded and sponsored, targeted stalking, and it was. I finally made contact with Lambda Legal regarding pro-bono legal assistance to put an end to the matter. As soon as the talk got more serious about them representing me, my email to them was manually blocked! I found out from my email service provider that the block was performed through a company called Barracuda Networks; I sent them an email to inquire how and why this happened and somehow a day later, I didn’t show any history of the email in my sent folder despite knowing I’d sent it.

Someone was in all my shit: my email, my apps, my phone, they were in my communication like nothing I’d ever dreamed; my privacy no longer existed.

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Sadly, they also got so deep inside my mind I started to lose it. I felt like I was being spied on all the time, I was fearful to meet anyone, if someone as much as touched me by accident I’d jump a foot in the air.

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On top of my encrypted email being hacked to block messages for legal aid, the entire app just stopped working altogether. This was how I’d communicated with my Private Investigator – and suddenly I couldn’t retrieve any messages at all, well, except for Ben’s oddly. His messages were the only ones that could be viewed, nobody else’s could load.

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I got hit up by a new profile one night that was the same guy from theApexPredator. I remembered his distinct tattoos, and him telling me once he’d moved here from Los Angeles. This profile was definitely him again.

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While I can’t make out the L.A. tattoo in the one profile pic, the other tattoos match; the address he gave is the same one he gave me before. He’d returned yet again, only with a different profile: that goddamn theApexPredator, the guy at the top of the gay food chain, the guy who was poised to prey on me until I died, he’d found me out of nowhere yet again. This was beyond scary, this was beyond horrifying, this was personal and never-ending and I didn’t seem to stand a chance at surviving this.

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I asked him if he was theapexpredator and he brushed it off; then I noticed his new profile, BreedMeRaw19107, was deleted within minutes. The green you above indicates that I sent that message in response to him – the screen name’s lack of an underline means it no longer exists. Clicking on the profile’s screen name brought up nothing as this profile, just like the one in the past, had self-destructed.

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It was only a matter of time before he was at it again…

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…and it was only a matter of one day before seeing the above at several miles away before he was situated less than a mile from me, like he was that night he first hacked my phone.

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img_0572Could my Ben, who I still somehow managed to love despite thinking he’d set me up for murder, be the Apex Predator? He seemed to be behind this all; all the profiles referenced things between us, one even called me a narcissist. Ben was an “informant” and it appeared like he’d set the wheels in motion for this plot years ago. If that was true, then he was nothing but a lie, he was nothing but a monster. How could this somehow be sanctioned by law enforcement? How could he be getting away with this? It honestly didn’t matter – what mattered was that he was getting away with it, and with great success. I, on the other hand, was just getting worse and worse. I’d lost my mind practically, I’d lost my job, I’d lost my reputation, I’d lost my privacy, I’d lost the right to meet real people online. All that was missing from the gang stalking objectives now was suicide, jail or death, just lovely; maybe then he’d be content and feel vindicated. This was out-of-my-mind-fucking insanity.

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I was losing my mind, I was losing everything, and nobody seemed to notice or care. I had nothing left in my life now, all I’d worked decades for seemed to have vanished without me realizing it.

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traumaEveryone seemed to know what was going on in my life except me. It was as if my brain started leaving my body, it would turn itself off; there was so much pain, confusion, frustration and trauma bouncing around that I started to feel disassociated from who I was, I started to forget who I even was or what I was doing at times; my brain couldn’t handle it anymore, and was shutting down as a defense mechanism. It seemed like everyone was part of this stupid plot to get me – it sounds like I’m paranoid and delusional to say that but – just take a look at the message below: this was not just something in my head.

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These weird ass profiles weren’t just “silly-looking” people…

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…and no, Alexandria, VA, didn’t just experience the largest gay influx in history and it’s new residents all were interested in me…

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…nor did the annoying as all fuck, “new bottom” below really want to give me the world’s greatest, most mind-blowing head every time he caught site of me online.

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Ben was evil and void of empathy, he wanted me suffering, unemployed, unable to find a date, unable to find a way to live, and unable to breathe it seemed. Nothing he’d told me about him had been true, nothing at all.

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Ben was livid at me for the whole narcissism issue, and he would not let it die. He blamed me for all of it, never once considering looking at himself as the cause.

grindrbrandon2Related imageThis was not in my mind – things like the below can’t be projected from my mind onto a smart phone app and captured by a scree shot. But nobody gave two shits…

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I’d come home and find threatening letters stuffed under my door…

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…I’d log onto Grindr and in minutes I’d have hundreds of fake messages from fake profiles…

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…they’d even acknowledge something was going on. This guy below hit me up a million times – always making some comment about my HIV status; I bitched about his harassment this time and he clearly acknowledged the reality of the cyber-stalking, the bastard, in responding:

Man it’s not that serious… but PEACE

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But I could prove nothing. When I tried, I was always told that I was crazy. Maybe I was crazy, crazy for trusting Ben; maybe I was insane – but because he’d driven me there; maybe I should just given up altogether – that seemed to be the only way to end this.

Ben was full of nothing but bull-shit and lies… every word he used was intended to cause me pain and fuck with my mind…

Ben called me crazy, as well. Ben mitigated everything. Not once did he consider that what I claimed held any validity, he always had an excuse:

Well, lots of guys are on PrEP.  Your dick is fat. Trannies are now more open and out.

ffff88Ben’s excuses seemed like the exact answers one would expect from a narcissist involved in this sort of activity. Ben wouldn’t acknowledge having anything to do with this mess, instead acting like it was all in my head, but at the same time, he suddenly appeared to have my “best interests” in mind. He kept telling me to stop harping on the past and focus on my future. He’d say time and again that he wanted to see me improving myself instead of proving this nonsense existed. He was right – to a point; I needed to stop focusing on this nightmare that had nearly cost me everything, but by not focusing on the chaos surrounding me, Ben was off the hook.

One profile that repeatedly hit me up to meet on Grindr, ImaBeAwesome, showed up alongside mine one day with Ben’s advice, more or less, covering his profile. Hmm…

The below image has not been altered, it’s an unedited, 100% authentic screen shot of our 2 profiles side by side. The level craziness and coincidence here doesn’t seem possible; only it is, I just don’t know how to explain it. Ben’s advice was good, at least partially: I did need to stop worrying about what was going on outside my control, and focus on getting myself back on track. I needed to concentrate on my future because I was now losing all I’d worked for in my past.

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But by not “proving” that this experience was real and identifying the individual(s) stalking and harassing me, I’d be left with the crazy label to wear indefinitely. Failure to demonstrate that this existed outside my mind was like letting a criminal almost get away with murder.

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And everyone seemed to be a Ben supporter. Even damn Verizon technical support seemed unwilling to help me with a thing… smh (LOL)…

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I was on that performance improvement plan at my job, and sent the HR representative an email asking if I could meet with her and present the evidence acquired that was highly suggestive of being cyber-stalked aggressively. I wanted her to know what was going on, because this wasn’t some typical scenario I knew how to get through; I also wanted her to see for herself that I wasn’t going crazy, that I was being driven crazy, aptsdhowever. I wanted her to realize that this situation was so out of this universe, that it was impacting me in a terrible way – but if only I could take some leave and resolve matter, I could then perform at work like I had for the last 14 years. But I needed help, I needed time off to deal with this, now was not the time to put me on a performance improvement plan as I’d already sunk to the bottom, my mind was going 100 mph at all times, and this would guarantee my failure. I needed legal assistance, I needed psychological support, because by this time I was experiencing symptoms of PTSD all day long that prevented me from performing my job duties, the prevented me from carrying out basic activities of daily living. To some that may sound ridiculous, but when you’re being stalked like this in such an invasive, personal manner, its effects are eventually paralyzing and traumatizing. I was only one month into the performance plan, I still had one to go…. only my email request to meet was met with bad news: I’d failed the performance plan already. I was told I had two options: I could either resign or face termination.

There was no God nor justice in this world; there was no help for me, not even law enforcement or legal entities would hear me out; there was no solution to this mess, there was no way out of this trap, and there was absolutely no light at the end of my tunnel except for another train if that.

Ben had an unfair advantage in winning this game; for starters – I didn’t even know it was a game until it was too late. And I’d lost big time, Ben clearly left victorious in this battle of winner-takes-all, which included Ben taking my life, which I already felt like he’d robbed from me with the abusive, fake-love relationship I took seriously while he took note of things to use against me in the future. Regardless, I was faced with a harsh reality: I now had absolutely nothing, and that nothing was becoming less by the second. I had nothing at all..

…I was nothing at all. I once was something – I once was something bright and happy, I once had motivation, I once had hope and believed in the inherent goodness of humanity, I had hope for the future. That hope was now dead, as was everything once inherent to me. I was nothing.

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Click Below for Next PageImage result for flying monkeys artMy sincere apologies if any of the above profiles were misinterpreted as fake when they’re real – that’s possible, although I’d bet a ton of money my hunches were correct with most. But I won’t lie: this resulted in me doubting everything around me, becoming suspicious of everyone and everything – especially anything related to Virginia. It’s only natural given someone high jacked my reality to harass, demean, belittle and blue-ball me for years.

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