Back in the late 1990’s, I was pursuing my car hobby with great zeal and enthusiasm. One of the activities that brought me pleasure besides racing these cars was taking them to car shows. The car show community in Southern California was a tight knit bunch back then and even though the internet was just getting going, already cliques were forming.
The way it worked back then is that you typically joined a “crew,” which was little more than a group of people that had similar interests. They were comprised mostly of men and women in their 20’s and 30’s. The crew with which I affiliated myself was called “ArtNMotion” and like all other crews, we had rivals.
My Hamster was an affiliate of one of the rival crews and I had seen her a few times at the shows. A few years later, we reconnected at an event series. I was a Pro Driving Instructor and she was a “booth bunny,” which was really more like a Product Specialist who spoke from a prepared script about a vehicle on display. She was an American Born Chinese lady in her early 30’s.
When I became single again, we reconnected as friends and hung out in the same group. Somehow, this segued into dating adventures where she was sweet, romantic and attentive. A few things concerned me, such as the fact that she had no driver’s license, had never owned a car and still lived at home at 34 years of age. She had a son while attending an all-girls’ Catholic school (who was, by that time, nearly ready for college) and this son had never lived with her. In retrospect, it was probably a sign of something, but she did have a close relationship with him. Of further concern was that she worked for a retail franchise that sold basically nothing more than trinkets and trash revolving around a famous cartoon character. She had been in the same job for 17 years.
As a pretty young lady, she had done some modeling herself which, come to find out, included “implied nude” modeling. Today, I’d immediately classify that as a bonafide Hamster, but in 2005, I wasn’t that savvy. She had her own website, her own MySpace and “fans” to whom she sent pictures…and worn undergarments (as I found out much later on.) Our early dating life included several trips to Hawaii, which we both enjoyed. On probably the fourth trip, she suggested we get married on a beach on Hawaii. I thought that was a great idea….I didn’t realize that she meant on THIS trip. Her reasoning was that we had already been together almost two years, had known each for six years before and we needn’t bother with a big fancy, wedding, as she had few friends and only a couple of living relatives. Hindsight is 20/20 as they say, but I was swept up in it and I relented. After all, the pre marital sex was beyond stellar and we genuinely had fun together. I didn’t see much in the way of red flags, other that there was a past of which she was not proud.
At first, things were just fine, as very little changed. Over time, she grew more distant and more focused on trying new things, from Yoga to gardening. This gal also fancied herself as a photographer and liked to photograph other women. Encouraging her to get behind the camera rather in front of it, we set her up with a studio in my house and all the gear necessary to run a photography business. Unfortunately, she never really fully immersed herself, but it did impress my neighbors to see so many beautiful young ladies parading in and out of my house….and made for some great stories.
One day, I came home a little early. As I entered the foyer, I immediately noticed the photography lighting and strewn about. To my surprise, as I looked toward the staircase, I was greeted by a fully nude young lady, upside down, sprawled out on the stairs. I of course knew what was going on, so I said aloud “honey, it’s not even my birthday!” which of course was not well received by my Hamster.
I retired to the living room until the session was over. After a few hours of me pondering what my life had become, I got some clarity. After a scant year together, this woman and I were virtually roommates. There was no intimacy, even less discussion and she was wholly consumed with activities like gardening, cooking fresh organic food for her two little rat dogs. The trips had stopped, the romance had stopped and furthermore, she was disappearing on weekends for “modeling” shows, yet could never produce photos from the sessions.
After another 8 or 9 months, things had deteriorated further and I sensed that she was miserable being away from her family, who were living in San Francisco. Despite driving there six times a year, it wasn’t enough. On the last trip, I dropped her off and she stayed another six months up there before we agreed to the split up.
She had left most of her personal belongings behind, so we eventually had to arrange to get them moved up to her. She asked me to pack everything and so I did so in earnest, wanting to close this chapter of my life. As I started to pack up her desk, I noticed a day planner full of sticky notes protruding from the binder. Curious, I looked inside to discover a long roster of men’s names with monthly tallies on dollar figures next to them. Chronicled further was a list of their fetishes and rough outlines of dialog trails they had had. This was before the iPhone days, so keeping a text trail on a Motorola flip phone was far different than it is today. From what I could read, she was “sexting” these men to “completion” after which they’d PayPal her a donation. The practice is called being a “Money Slave.” The things she texted far exceeded any talk we had during intimacy session, so I was taken aback.
I’m not sure which part disturbed me more: the fact that she was capable of doing this, but not for me, or the fact that thousands of dollars were coming in that I knew nothing about. Suffice to say, it certainly strengthened my resolve to terminate the relationship.
In the end, I learned a very valuable lesson: just because she believes in wild pre marital sex doesn’t mean she believes in any form of post marital sex.
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