“Go ahead, I deserve it.” (this line is practically begging for a reaction so they get to feel like the martyr)
A friend of mine INSISTED I joined Tinder because he had good luck there. I was not thrilled about it, but he was visiting from Scotland, so I thought… what is the worst that can happen?
I went through dozens of photos… everyone was either holding a dead fish, hiking or at the gym. The first person that was different? Bearded, a bit heavy and playing the bass.
Audun.
Plot twist: Tinder pulled the Jumanji card on you.
“Swipe right to summon a boss battle from your subconscious!”
Seriously, though—what are the odds? Of all the bass-playing bearded boys in the realm, the app delivers him? That feels like cosmic mischief. Like the Universe had a weird sense of humour and zero chill that day.
People wonder why I have decided to stick to what I know: cats, books and rpg.
But there is an aching, lingering discomfort.
It is not guilt. It is not love – it is residue. Residue from carrying someone else’s moral weight for too long. From watching the damage and feeling like I must do something—because if I do not, who will?
But I suppose I am doing what I can – I am holding space for accountability. I have been a mirror, a sounding board, a damn GPS through his emotional landfill. I told my therapist that I wanted to protect others from him… she said it was “so human. It’s empathy, evolved.
But it becomes martyrdom when it costs you your own peace.
He is not your child.”
I did not make this mess, and we all know that I have cleaned more than my share. And the only way I would truly be protecting others?
If I sacrificed myself to keep the lion caged.
But he is not a lion. He is a man with a history of harm, now faced with consequences.
I am not a warden.
As I walk away, it does not feel like closure. It feels like peeling off a too-tight suit I have worn for too long. I still hear the echos of the circus off in the distance, but I am too far away to be bothered.
I was handed a sad clown’s act with patchy makeup and expected to be both the audience and the applause. I am not sitting front row – now I am behind the scenes, shutting off the spotlight and rolling up the tent.
Trying to understand *his* perspective is a bit like trying to decipher Dr. Teeth while high on LSD. I have known some inconsistent, unkind people… but with some deduction, I could sort out their “why’s”. But him? He is a profession in tactical sympathy mining.
It is a form of control where he gets to be both the wounded animal and the moral superior. And pity? Pity is powerful. It bypasses your logic. It recruits your empathy and shushes your instincts with a whisper of “they just need help…”
When I fact-checked his narrative, it deflated him (versus having the truth empower him). His whole persona—the martyrdom, the pain, the misunderstood genius shtick—depends on the story being his and only his.
The moment someone else gets to speak clearly? It starts to crumble. So instead of listening and growing from that exposure, he launches the pity party parade. I do not recall auditioning for the role of Caretaker #405 in The Audun Show: Encore of Sadness.
I did the sleuthing and gathered the files.
The case is cracked.
And the script he has been handing out? I can finally say: “Sorry. I am not playing that role any more.”
Does the Audun Show have any foundation in true redemption?
Maybe. Barely.
But that is the heartbreak of it, is it not?
It’s like… he is holding a match over a vast forest of dry wood—something that could become a true, cleansing fire. But instead of building it properly, honouring the fuel, respecting the danger—
He lights a single firecracker and yells, “LOOK, CHANGE!”
So yes, there might be a flicker of truth, a sliver of potential. Somewhere inside TAS, there’s a person who knows they screwed up and might even want to make it right. But…
-
Does he seek to centre the hurt? No.
-
Does he move differently? Not really.
-
Does he accept rejection without flipping the script? Absolutely not.
-
Does he understand that true redemption might mean never being seen as redeemed? Not even close.
This looks more likevthe exhaustion of hope. I know he could do better, but the gap between could and will is wide. Wider still when he will not shut up about how hard it is for him. He wants to look like a phoenix while he is still smoldering in the ashes he set himself. You cannot redeem your legacy on the backs of your victims. And if that is the stage TAS is still on—then yeah, that is not redemption.
That is just really bad theatre.
