Puppet On A String
Becky (an ex girlfriend) would turn to me and some times say,
“I just feel like your puppet at times.”
I had to look the other way because I wanted to laugh. My nickname for her was poppet. She loved me calling her that. I used it straight away when we first met. It was actually a useful device as the other lady I was seeing, Susan, received that nickname from me too, but she was on the way out. It meant I could call them both poppet and not mix up their names with the invariable histrionics that would ensue. God, I am good.
What Becky had not realised that my calling her poppet was a corruption of puppet and every time I used it I would be laughing inwardly and beaming outwardly. She thought I was just smiling because I was pleased to be with her.
That is what it is all about. Making you my puppet. This is my aim. This is the means to my end of obtaining my fuel from you. As you will no doubt becoming familiar with, the means always justifies the end. Accordingly, by ensuring you become my puppet I am in the optimum position to control you to extract every drop of fuel I can from you.
I need to control you so that you admire me when I want it. I need to control you so that I can pull the strings and make you jerk to my tune. I am the puppetmaster.
To make you my puppet I engage on a two-pronged approach. Firstly, I make you utterly dependent on me. I open the doors and let you look upon heaven. That way you are in awe of what I can give you and you want it, oh you really, really want it. Secondly, I will then remove every method of support both real and potential that you might rely on to try and recover your free will (family, friends, colleagues and so on – I will be posting about how I do this through my slur campaign in a separate post) so that you have nobody to turn to. Thus, as you look on heaven entranced and enraptured, I am opening the trapdoor to hell right under your feet.
Once I have those strings attached to you we can begin our dance. It is long. It is exhausting. It is dangerous.
2 thoughts on “Puppet On A String”
Dear HG, I’m dependent on your Spotify podcasts. They are my crutch. It’s soothing to listen to logic. I used them up 😟 I’ll go to youtube.
Oh my goodness, I have been out 19 months and just the other day he hoovered me and again called me poppet. I realise I did the no contact rule all wrong which obviously lead me to being hoovered and then discarded again! It was hurtful but I knew it was my fault so I have now implemented no contact but proper this time. I also used to call his daughter poppet but for me it is a family term of endearment and a very British thing so I kind of thought for him to say that it meant the same. Here I was thinking it was something lovely! Boy did I get that wrong! At least I know now! Thank you. He will get a fright when he realises I have fallen back completely.