///Why You Wanted Me To Kidnap You

Why You Wanted Me To Kidnap You

By | 2018-05-11T07:19:15+00:00 May 11th, 2018|Categories: Success Principles|Comments Off on Why You Wanted Me To Kidnap You

Dear Miss Reno,

I get it now… Why you wanted me to kidnap you.

We used to talk every night for an hour or more, whispering, giggling, telling innocent stories or mostly just talking about nothing…

It was like a secret fort that you would build as if we were little children playing and could hide from the adults and the responsibilities of the world. We had our secret little fort on the phone.

I would call you just to hear the music of your voice – I loved the sound of it.

I’m sure there was someone, somewhere in Reno who was sick and tired of your voice, but to me it was the sweetest music.

It didn’t matter what we were talking about, every day I would be excited to call you and share the most mundane details of our lives: How my mom’s dog lay sprawled out across the floor wanting someone to rub his belly, what T-shirt I was wearing on Sunday (The blue shirt that said GREAT on it, my Sunday best, you know the shirt), or the boy-troubles of your sister’s life whom I never got to meet.

I really wanted to meet your sister. I saw her in pictures, she seemed genuine..

She seemed like the kind of person I would like immediately and get along with. But I wasn’t allowed to meet her or anyone else in your family. I was a secret – your secret boyfriend.

I remember reading Linda Goodman’s “Love Signs” and I flipped to the page about Cancer man (me) and Scorpio woman (you) and read about our future. Some people think astrology is full of shit, but the Sun Signs were right all along. The book said that we would have the most amazing love, the most amazing sex and the most amazing chemistry. We would understand each other emotionally and would hate to be separated even for a few moments (it was all true). But I remember the section about the downfalls of the relationship and there was one important 7 letter word…



I didn’t think much of it. Secrets didn’t matter to me. I learned years ago that telling the truth was best because then you didn’t have to remember anything. I stopped carrying secrets with me years ago, but I am much older than you. As I type this, I’m 31, you are 22, that 9 year gap holds a lifetime of wisdom and experience.

We were long distance lovers and I wanted you and only you, but you made it hard, you denied me. Every time I wanted to get closer, you denied me over and over again. Our entire relationship was a pursuit by me and a denial by you – over and over again.

Even the first time you secretly met me at the Peppermill Casino, it was a chase and a denial, but you gave in and a kissed you.

I was your secret, you would only meet me at odd hours; 11pm, 1am, 2pm, 6am, really strange times…

I wasn’t allowed to meet your family or your friend., In fact, in a 3 year time span, the only person I met was your dog, the Chihuahua who watched us have sex on a hotel bed the last time I saw you. I felt bad for the dog, he just lay down on the bed and watched us like a bad Hollywood movie – how perverse of him.

I wasn’t allowed to visit your house, I sent my flowers and gifts to your aunt’s house instead.

At first it was fun being your secret lover because secrets are sexy.

But I remember coming to see you the last time for your birthday after a year and half of being a secret and the secrets were starting to lose their shine.

I was still staying in that crappy downtown Casino hotel in Reno: “world’s biggest little city”. I was still wandering around downtown by myself Reno across from the Cal Neva Casino waiting for you to meet me at odd hours to maybe catch a movie or get some Vietnamese.

I still couldn’t meet your family or hang out with them, I still had no one to talk to… The romance, the magic and excitement of a secret tryst was starting to wear off.

The whole thing wasn’t making sense. I wanted to move you up to Canada so we could be together and I remember asking you every day, “when are you coming to Canada?”

“When can you visit?”

“When can you move?”

I was persistent in the same way that water cuts through mountains, with sheer persistence.

Everyday I would ask, every day you would deny. I figured eventually you would cave in and give me a date to be together, but you never did. I marveled at your willpower, discipline and supposed virtue.

I was like a thirsty dog who needed water, except water to me was love and sex.

I needed sex… I needed love, I needed human touch, it seemed that you didn’t need any of that. You were cold, like a robot, I was amazed at how you could resist.

Even though you were cold when I was away, when we were together you were like warm honey poured on a sore throat. We had amazing sex, one degree below epic sex (the kind that you would tell the nurse about in the old folks home at age 98 after you lost your mind and could only shit yourself while staring out the window in a wheelchair.)

If we spent more time together, it would have been epic sex. But we didn’t get there.

You stayed cold when I was away, like someone who could hold her breath underwater and I had to come up for air. I needed to breathe like a mammal, I didn’t realize you were a mermaid and could breathe underwater forever.

Why didn’t you need me like I needed you? You had all the power.

Whoever controls the sex in the relationship, typically has the power (this is basic sexual economics of supply and demand).

Another cruel way of saying this is whoever loves the other person less has all the power.

Everyday I would play businessman during the day and would have control over people more powerful than me, but when it came to calling you late at night (the little 88 pound, redheaded girl from Reno) you had all the power.

One night in my frustration and in your indecision on the phone I said, “why don’t I just come kidnap you… I’ll fly down to Reno, tie you up with linen rope and carry you over the border and you would be mine?”

In the old days, “the best man” at a wedding would be the man who would help the groom go to the next town to steal a bride.

The Roman empire was built on the plunder and rape of the Sabine women (the women in the next village who wouldn’t come over to visit and denied them marriage).

Men have been stealing young girls for marriage since the days of cave-men , why not steal a wife from Reno?

I even asked my best friend at the time, “why don’t we go steal her?”

We laughed, it was a joke… but every time I joked with you about coming to kidnap you, I could tell that you were 100% ok with it. In fact, I could tell that you wanted it…

You didn’t want to make the decision, you didn’t want to be blamed for coming to Canada. If I stole you, if I kidnapped you, you could blame me – the big bad Canadian wolf, stealer of young redheaded girls from Reno – Such a bad man!

You could be lily white, the innocent lamb, taken from the flock by the big bad wolf and you would be just fine in the eyes of your friends and family… The squeaky clean girl from Reno who was mysteriously kidnapped.

“It wasn’t her fault” they would say.

“It wasn’t my fault” you would say to them.

You wouldn’t have to let out your S-E-C-R-E-T-S to the world.

You could blame me for letting your family down, you could blame me for missing school or dropping out, you could surrender to my masculine decision making-ability and let me do whatever I wanted to you…

I know you liked submitting to me, I was dominant and you are submissive. You loved to please me.

If it is masculine to make decisions and have direction, it is feminine to relax into those decisions and go with the flow.

I was masculine and you were very, very feminine.

I remember that last time we were in Vegas for a secret love-sex weekend and at the end you had to leave me behind and go to the airport. You burst into tears and wouldn’t let me go. You wanted to come with me to Canada, you wanted me to take you, steal you across the border, steal you away from your old life and into a new life as a prisoner. I was ready to book you a flight, but you didn’t have a passport, so I couldn’t get you over the border…

Our love had no rules, but the Canadian border certainly had rules…

Every time we departed after our secret love-sex weekends in different cities it was the same story over and over again; you bursting out into tears, real tears, from real love and wanting me to kidnap you.

I would have taken you, but I wanted you to come with me by your own free will. I never understood why you couldn’t make the easy and simple decision to just say Y-E-S and be with me.

After our 3 year relationship came to an end, I learned that it was because of that 7 letter word from the astrology book:


Cancer man and Scorpio woman have one little 7 letter word that can cause all the pain and suffering in the relationship:


You had a secret, I had none.

I was your little secret, or maybe “he” was your little secret. I’m not sure which one of us was the secret, but you had a long term boyfriend at home, Drake was his name. You had a “Drake”, but you also had a “Stefan”.

Two full time relationships; one local and one long distance…

plus a part time job…

plus a full time school schedule: busy, busy girl.

I could never figure out what you did with your time, you always seemed to be so busy, but now I can see why you were busy – you had a long term committed boyfriend the whole time!

The odd-hour meetings, the unavailability of vacation days to meet, the inability to meet family members, or go to your house, or meet your sister, it was all because you were living a double life: I was a secret to him, he was a secret to me.

This is why you wanted me to kidnap you…

If I kidnapped you, I could steal you away from the double life and you could blame it all on me. Your family would say “what happened?”

Your Drake would say “what happened?”

You would say “I got kidnapped by this Canadian barbarian…”

Play the victim! Whispered the devil on your shoulder…

Blame it on me, blame it on Canada…

That is so much easier than owning up to your family and saying “hey family, I have two full time boyfriends… one is a barbarian from Canada…”

They would never understand…

What a mess… what a disaster…

Your mom knows about your double life, I still don’t know if your Drake knows… your sister for sure doesn’t know, and I can see why you wished for me to kidnap you:

No more school papers to hand in, no more bullshit at your job to deal with, no more lies and secrets with the family, you could start fresh with your heathen, barbarian, Canadian boyfriend.

In World War II, the Canadians were the only infantry that the Nazi’s feared… Big rugged hockey-player men with beards who lived in the arctic north in 40 below. Compared to the little metropolitan, clean shaven Nazi soldiers wearing their designer leather uniforms designed by Hugo Boss and driving their Porsche Tanks, the Canadians were brutal and relentlessly killed Nazi’s in the cold.

I was twice your size, your barbarian from the north. Compared you at 5’2 and 88 pounds I was a monster at 6’4 and 185. I could envelope you, dominate you, make you feel like a captive woman and have you in every way I wanted. You were my little prisoner for one or two days at a time, kidnapped for two days at a time, like beauty and the beast – boring little Belle trapped by the monster… the beast in the castle!

You loved it, you loved being with a beast, kidnapped and trapped where Stockholm syndrome would take over and you would grow to love your captor.

Being kidnapped, being a prisoner, becoming a captive was much easier than owning up to the truth – you had a boyfriend at home cooking your dinner and waiting for you. But you were being ravaged by the beast.

If only the poor bastard knew that a beast was eating his lunch…

If only your sister knew of your scandalous life choices.

You used to say if she knew “she would never speak to you ever again”… Your sister must have been the pure one.

It would be so much easier to have been kidnapped by a barbarian from the north and live happily ever after than to come clean, let someone down, make a decision and come to me by your own free will.

That would require decision, cutting off the other option and making someone unhappy…

You were a pleaser, a little man pleaser, and wanted to make everyone happy. Unfortunately, that is the recipe for failure – wanting to make everyone happy, it’s simply impossible.

I get it.

You lived the double life, but you didn’t want to own it and show it off the world.

What would they think of you?

Your family? Your friends? Your Drake?

You sat on the fence, in the middle and didn’t want to let anyone down. You didn’t want to hurt anyone or make anyone unhappy.

“Come kidnap me” You would purr into the telephone receiver late at night at 2:30 in the morning with your hands under the covers…

Provoking the beast from his den…

Calling the leviathan from his underwater cave to ravage you on the rocks…

Calling to the wolves to taste you, pick your bones clean and lick you where you wish to be licked…

My heart would pump faster and faster as the testosterone surged through my body. I would have flew down on the spot, tied you up with linen rope and made you my prisoner to satisfy my every whim… but I also didn’t want to become an official sex criminal – a kidnapper of small Reno college girls.

The newspaper headlines would read “The Canadian wolf steals an American lamb into his den across the border.”

Christian Grey in 50 shades of grey could get away with abuse, torture, and sexual degradation because he was a billionaire, had six pack abs and owned a helicopter. I do well for my age, but I am not a helicopter owner.

My fantasies of kidnapping you would mingle in the air for a second with your fantasies of being kidnapped and then we would say goodnight, again, and again, night after night, living in an endless loop of meaningless words.

Like a broken record, or a broken tape that just played the same little movie over and over again…

“I wish you could come kidnap me…” You would say softly and sweetly into the phone receiver at 2:00am on our Monday night calls as you were finishing work… Work was one of your safe places where you would call me away from your family and away from your Drake… No one knew who you were talking to at work on Monday night…

I would listen to the blackened silence on the telephone receiver, the dead air, and fantasize about showing up at the airport, linen rope ready and blindfold ready to take you away from your double life. To blindfold you and take you into utter darkness where the wolves would feast on your body.

The lamb would never be seen again, she would be mine in my wolf lair, every day and every night, my prisoner to do as I please.

Darkness would swallow the lamb and she would be consumed by the wolf and his hunger for her.

I could blindfold you and take you away from your problems, take you away from your lies, take you away from your family politics, your bullshit college papers and your bullshit math tests.

I could take you away in a second, you could be my prisoner of love and we could live a fantasy life forever…

Forever in your mind.

Your wolf,