You're A Time Waster

Let's cut through the performance: I know exactly what you are, and more importantly, I know exactly what you're doing. You think you're clever - sending those carefully crafted messages, timing your disruptions, playing your little games for scraps of attention.

You're not clever. You're predictable. And frankly, you're boring.

The Rush
You enjoy getting a reply from a Dominant—it's your endorphin rush, isn't it? It doesn't matter if she takes the bait and replies back to your request. It doesn't even matter if she replies back sounding pissed off. You've met your goal: maximum impact with minimal effort.

That little ping of notification makes your day, doesn't it? For a brief moment, someone with actual power acknowledged your existence. Never mind that she's annoyed. Never mind that you've just guaranteed she'll never take you seriously. You got your hit, your tiny moment of mattering, and that's all your limited mind can process.

Then There Is The Romantic
Then there's the one who believes he's more sophisticated. You're in it for the long haul—writing "meaningful" emails, droning on about your "experiences" with kink, spinning fantasies you'd like fulfilling, believing that "She is the Dom for you." You might even write some truths in your email—clever little snippets of genuine insight that make her think you're different, that you actually understand.

How romantic. How utterly delusional.
You carrot dangle the promise of a deposit for a session. You waste hours of her time with your elaborate stories and detailed negotiations. You make her believe you're serious, that you understand what real power exchange requires. And then, when she circles back with actual terms, actual expectations, actual reality—you ghost.

Off you trot to try this nonsense with someone else. The game was never about the session, it was about the attention. The lengthy back-and-forth. The fantasy that for a few days or weeks, someone powerful was paying attention to little old you.

Then There Is The Digital Pest
The truly pathetic one. You watch social media accounts like a stalker, sending DMs with requests that go against well-established boundaries. Unsolicited body images because you think your mediocre anatomy deserves commentary. Asking for services they clearly don't offer because reading is beneath you—but so is respect. Some of you read and simply do not care. It's worrying, really. This is online behaviour—imagine what you'd be like in person.

And when reality doesn't bend to your entitled little tantrums, you escalate to threats—assault, doxxing, insults. As if intimidation will somehow transform your rejected advances into desired attention.
How's that working for you? Still getting the responses you crave, or just building yourself a reputation that follows you around like a bad smell?

What You're Actually Hiding
Above the obviousness of being bored, there's something more interesting festering inside you. You seek attention on the most shallow level because deeper connection terrifies you...right?

You're missing attention at home. You aren't making any real impact at work or at home, and you believe that service providers should communicate with you for free because you're "owed" something. Instead of working on reports at work like you're being paid to do, you're running into the toilets—or maybe logging onto a private browser—to keep tabs on your notifications.

You don't actually want discipline. You don't want real submission. You don't want genuine power exchange. Those things require vulnerability, consistency, growth—all the things you've spent your life avoiding.

What you want is the fantasy without the substance. The attention without the accountability. The thrill without the responsibility.

The Truth You Won't Face
Here's what you're desperately trying to hide: you're terrified of being found out. Terrified that if you actually committed to something real, someone might discover that underneath all your games and fantasies, there's nothing particularly interesting there.

So you keep moving. Keep disrupting. Keep wasting everyone's time because standing still long enough for real scrutiny feels impossible.
You've convinced yourself that chaos equals excitement, that disruption equals impact, that any attention—positive or negative—validates your existence.

But it doesn't, does it? Each interaction leaves you more hollow than the last. Each ghosting, each ignored boundary, each blocked account adds to the growing evidence that you're exactly as empty as you fear.

My Natural Filter
Here's what's fascinating about people like Me: My natural filter discards time wasters before they even register as a blip on My radar. You think you're playing games with Me, but I spotted your pattern before you finished typing your second message.

I don't engage with your carrot dangling. I don't chase your promises. I don't get drawn into your lengthy fantasies or respond to your boundary-pushing provocations.
Until you're met with the truth—until someone is able to hold up a mirror to your behaviour—threats and carrot dangling is all you're good for.

Time's Up
Time waits for no man, and what's truly fascinating is that you won't realise how much time you've wasted being a tyrant when you could have been making more successful decisions.

While you've been playing these silly games, real people have been building real connections. Having actual experiences. Growing, learning, becoming more than they were.

And you? You're still sending the same tired messages to different Dominatrices, hoping this time will be different whilst changing nothing about your approach.
The clock is ticking. Your youth is fading. Your opportunities are dwindling. And you're still here, wasting everyone's time—most of all your own.

How much longer are you going to pretend this strategy is working for you?