You. If only I’d googled your phone number before I returned your call.

You. I should have known your call was bogus when you would not answer my direct questions or my request for an email address, to follow up.

You. I should have hung up when you gave a false location, as your East Coast accent and lack of “local-ness” had already given you away.

You. When you continued to expound on the same theme, asking the same questions, and repeat the same themes over and over, with no regard for my time – even though I explained that 15 free minutes was all I could spare.

You. Unfortunately, you and your ilk are always men. Cis-gendered men, let me be clear. What is it with you guys?

You. You have a story, it’s true. You have issues, I know. But I’m not here for your jerk-off, verbal or actual. (Or both?) Tell me, was that why I had so much trouble getting you to end the call?

Me. Actually interested in helping people, including people with stories like yours: repressed as a child, coming out as something other than heterosexual, guilt-ridden, intellectually aware but subconsciously tormented. If you’d been real, I would have referred you to a licensed psychotherapist, but could have continued to provide sexological counseling and support.

Me. I’m kind. Maybe you didn’t even notice.

Me. Actually interested in earning a living. Yep! That’s right! I am actually trained to converse about sexual matters and to provide resources and insights, and I get paid for this too, as I tried to make clear. But you kept me on the phone, even when I kept trying to bring the conversation to a close. You wouldn’t let me say good-bye or schedule an actual appointment.

Me. Googled your number afterward. Saw complaints. Read various prank scenarios associated with your number. Someone said you pretended to be a cop, and then she called you a rapist. You even pissed off a prodomme who tweeted your phone number out into the Twitterverse a couple of years ago! My my.

Me. Feeling duped, disgusted, annoyed. Sexually harrassed, even.

You. Who are you? And why do you feel it was okay to do what you did? To do what you just did to me, and to all those other women you’ve harrassed.

And if you ever have the nerve to call again, your number is going up on this blog. It’s one thing to piss off a prodomme. It’s another to tick off a sexologist.