Okay. Let’s do this.
I’ve been thinking a lot about how to write this. I’ve been grappling quite a bit with the idea of not
fitting the “demographic” of Ryan Haywood’s various victims. I’m older, first of all. I’m 32. And
secondly- I’m married.
Since all of this has started coming out, I’ve had this fear. I’m older. I should have understood. I
should have known what was happening to me and I could have stopped it at any point.
Should’ve known better. Could’ve said no. Shouldn’t have been starstruck by- honestly- a D List
Internet Celebrity, at best.
I was 30 in November of 2018. I’d been struggling to come to terms with the idea of being
polyamorous. My husband and I had made a few cracks about finding another girlfriend but I
was afraid to label myself as polyam for a long, long time. I found out later that Ryan had
mentioned to someone else that I was in an “open relationship” which was not entirely the case.
Maybe that was on me. Maybe I hadn’t been clear that November when we spent an entire
weekend talking nonstop and I confided in him that I was struggling to figure out how to apply
that term to myself and came out to him about it. I’d mentioned I hadn’t even been comfortable
using it when speaking to my husband at that point, so I think that may have been a catalyst for
him to mention his personal marital problems.
If you’ve read any of the other stories, you probably know what he told me. I don’t think I need to
elaborate any more on how he blamed his flirtatiousness, or forwardness, on his wife’s reluctant
intimacy. It just feels wrong to keep talking about that. So I would like to clarify something at this
moment: I did not assume Ryan’s relationship itself was open. I...had foolishly hoped that it was.
When you yourself are a certain type of person, you selfishly hope that others are as well. I
never asked because I was afraid to and only found out for sure that it wasn’t later on. We
talked about him and his wife possibly going to therapy. I tried to give advice as far as him
sitting down with her and having a real discussion about their lack of intimacy. This man that I
looked up to, that I admired, felt trapped and wanted intimacy. I felt bad for him.
I know now that was what he wanted me to feel.
We spent the whole weekend after Thanksgiving chatting. He told me I could tell him to stop
flirting if I was not comfortable with it. I told him it was fine. I felt weird since I had yet to discuss
this with my husband but this was new and exciting and I liked Ryan. I thought we were going to
be friends.
Obviously we were never going to be friends. He called me his friend. Four months ago, when I
approached him about where we stood, what kind of a relationship we could even call it, he said
we were friends. I brought this up to him as recently as last weekend when he claimed that “no
one told me how they felt.” I did. I did many times. And I think others did too. He never wanted
to hear any of us until we started speaking out.
We flirted pretty heavily throughout the end of the year. I asked if I was the only girl at the time,
and he said that while he’d done this with other girls, yes, I was currently the only one. He didn’t
have the “capacity” to flirt with multiple girls at once. But I was beginning to feel pretty fucking
horrible about it come December. I expressed this to him multiple times- the guilt and shame I
could feel starting to build up over it. I didn’t have anyone to talk to about it. He tried so hard to
keep us all alone and in the dark. Even in some of my darkest moments, he said he hoped that
no matter what happened, I could keep this quiet.
I asked him once if he thought I was a bad person. He said not any more bad than he was. At
the time, I felt comforted by it. Now, it fucking hurts like hell. I thought I was helping this person I
trusted find an outlet for something he needed and wasn’t getting. And it was addictive, and fun,
even when I had my doubts.
Let’s get a more concise timeline going.
November 2018 is when this started to spiral. The photos, some that were tame, some of him
shirtless (still tame, but with more intent). The flirting.
December 2018 I had very serious thoughts about committing suicide. I was keeping this deep,
dark secret from so many people I loved. I had heard rumors that someone was spreading
about one of the other girls, approached him about it, and he lied. Not for the first time and
absolutely not for the last time. I found out for certain later that month that I was not the only girl
he was fucking around with and had a breakdown. But I didn’t feel so alone anymore.
January 2019 he offered to fly me out to Austin to have sex. I finally talked to my husband about
it. He said I could do it. I had sorted my end out- I tried to separate my issues from Ryan’s.
February 2019 I went on my trip. He came to my hotel a couple times. We’d have sex, hang out
a bit, and then he’d leave. Once I’d returned from my trip, he ghosted me. It was 2-3 weeks of
radio silence. I felt horrible and disgusting. What had happened that suddenly I was no longer
worth talking to? Weren’t we friends? This person had given me confidence in myself, had given
me the attention that I’d craved from someone just like him, and then had the gall to rip it out of
my hands? I started going to therapy. I lost myself somewhere along the way, lost pieces of
myself to Ryan, and I needed some semblance of stability.
March 2019 we started talking again, more sporadically than before. I started planning a trip to
Austin in May for my birthday. I was learning to be okay with the breaks in communication. It
had gone from daily to weekly in 4 months but I would take what I could get.
May 2019 I went back to Austin. We’d discussed the possibility of meeting up. He’d just had a
loss in his family so the timing was bad; it was up in the air. He worked it out eventually and
came over after work one day.
Skip to July 2019. He had a hotel for RTX and I went over there one night. Same as before- had
sex, hung out, left. I have some photos but they’re not very incriminating and I know they will get
questioned. One is of me in the hotel room with his bag behind me and another is of his
nightstand with his wedding band and a pin that someone had given him that day on it.
There was more random communication between this. Whenever he felt like reaching out. It
sucked. I was desperate and needy. I wanted his attention. He didn’t want to give it. He was
tiring of me and wouldn’t admit it but I could feel it. I’d gained weight over this timeframe and felt
worse about myself than ever before. He’d gone from calling me beautiful to ignoring every
advance I made- and I did make them, I wanted to feel special again- and telling me he wasn’t
flirting with anyone and hadn’t been for a while (an excuse that ran its face into the wall over
and over again in 2020 too).
October 2019 was the last time I saw him. I was in town for ACL. I stayed with a friend for half
the time and got a hotel near his work for the rest of the trip. He came over once in the morning
and left almost right afterward. While he was there, I expressed to his face that I liked the
attention and hated that he felt like he could take it away. He said he was sorry. I knew he
wasn’t.
We sexted a bit during this whole time but not very much. Maybe a few times. Everything was
consensual. I continued to poke and prod in 2020 with the desire for attention. I once again told
Ryan how he was making me feel and how much it hurt. He once again gave me a half-assed
apology and proceeded to tell me he didn’t like to get very deep on the “feelings” scale. I didn’t
want feelings. I wanted to be heard, as his “friend.”
I’d also approached him a few times about other girls I thought he may have been flirting with
and once again was lied to with the same excuses as before. He was slowing down in his old
age, according to him. Then we stopped talking for 3-4 months. Until all of this started. I reacted
to him with sympathy; I didn’t want his life to be ruined any more than my own. I’ve already
posted a few of those screenshots. I didn’t get harassed to the extent as the other girls did. But
he told me he’d just started learning about “power imbalances” which turned out to be a
bald-faced lie considering he’d told another girl long before this that he was aware there was a
power imbalance between them. He has previously also suggested that just because I am older
than the other girls, I knew what I was getting into, insinuating that I did not really need any
apologies from him for him taking advantage of his power over me as someone who admired
him.
Nonetheless, there will likely never be a point where I am not sorry for my part in this. He is at
fault but I will never, ever not be sorry. I’m sorry to Achievement Hunter, who I love, and loved
volunteering for, and my team there that I feel like I betrayed. I’m sorry to this community, that
has given me everything. I’m sorry to my friends, many of whom had to keep secrets for me for
years. I’m sorry to a family that is now in pieces. I’m sorry to my husband, for getting caught up
in the excitement of something, and forgoing details.
I’m not fucking sorry to Ryan Haywood. I’m not sorry to the man that told lie on top of lie on top
of lie. I’m not fucking sorry to the monster that brushed me aside when he was tired of me and
made me look, and feel, desperate, and needy. I’m not sorry to this desperate animal that hurt
so many girls and then dared to tell them not to tell their fucking stories.
“Not any more bad a person than I am.” I’m a thousand fucking times better than you could ever
hope to be. And stronger every day.
jesus christ this one is sad as hell
