29 Never meet your Idols

I couldn't help but dwell on a vivid flashback, a night when I had the chance to meet Billie Eilish, the artist whose music had touched my soul deeply.

It had been backstage after one of her mesmerizing shows, where I found myself starstruck and in awe of her magnetic presence. Billie's music had a unique way of resonating with my emotions, and I couldn't help but gush about my admiration for her work. To my surprise, she revealed that she, too, was a fan of mine, of my persona as 'The Chase.'

"Maybe one day you'll get back into music," she had said, her eyes gleaming with hope. I had responded with a vague "maybe," unsure of what the future held.

Billie had extended an invitation to join her for drinks, and we eventually met at a luxury hotel where she had rented an entire floor for our encounter. As the night unfolded, we shared stories, laughter, and drinks, growing closer with each passing moment.

But as the evening wore on, Billie's demeanor began to shift. She started to flirt with me, her advances becoming increasingly overt. I couldn't ignore the fact that she had recently gone through a major breakup, and it left me feeling uneasy.

I still held Billie in high regard as an artist, and my initial intention had been to befriend her. However, her advances took a more aggressive turn, and I could sense her mounting frustration. She began to raise her voice, expressing her desire for intimacy and hurling hurtful insults at me as a man.

The situation spiraled out of control, and in a moment of weakness, I yielded to the pressure, giving in to her advances in a haze of frustration and regret. It was an encounter that left me feeling bitter, angry with both myself and Billie for how it had unfolded.

In the days that followed, Billie developed feelings for me, emotions I couldn't reciprocate. I found myself pulling away, unable to navigate the complexities of our ill-fated encounter. The memory of that night haunted me, a stark reminder that even in the world of fame and admiration, there were moments of pain and confusion that left lasting scars.

I had effectively ghosted her, unable to confront the emotions that had been stirred by our brief, tumultuous relationship. It was a chapter of my life that I wished I could erase, a painful reminder of the pitfalls of fame and the blurred lines it often brought.

It sometimes felt like her songs were directed at him after that.

A side effect of having the perfect body with some perks from customization. Girls would continue to be infatuated after one night.

Well fuck them anyway if they decide to break up with me or break my heart after I have committed to them they deserve to think about me all the fuckin time.

This also happened with Tate McRae

Another memory that I couldn't quite shake—a night when I had encountered Tate McRae, a talented artist with an aggressive demeanor.

It had been after one of her shows, where we had crossed paths backstage just like Billie Eilish, I really was a fanboy for the artists I like. Tate was known for her fiery performances, and her music had a raw intensity that resonated with many. I had admired her artistry and looked forward to the opportunity to meet her as a fellow musician.

However, our encounter took an unexpected turn. Tate's initial friendliness gave way to an aggressive flirtation that left me feeling uncomfortable. Her advances were bold and relentless, and I couldn't help but notice the anger simmering beneath the surface.

Unlike my previous encounter with Billie Eilish, where frustration had escalated into a regrettable act, this time I found myself firmly rejecting Tate's advances. I wasn't interested in a physical relationship, especially one driven by anger and aggression.

Tate's persistence only seemed to intensify her anger, and she threatened to call another man to satisfy her desires. To my surprise, she wasn't bluffing. It became evident that she was serious about her proposition. Was it because she was drunk? Was it because she was a slut?

Caught off guard I felt the weird need to get her hooked on me so at least she didn't become a slut. It was a weird case of wrath. I felt mad in finding out that Tate McRae wasn't as innocent as I thought. She had certainly had more suggestive content when she got older but nothing that indicated any of this

It was a choice born out of frustration, a momentary lapse in judgment that would linger in my thoughts as a stark reminder of the complexities and challenges of navigating the world of fame and relationships.

Meeting and sleeping with my celebrity had been some of most prominent dreams, but after doing it 3 times and fulfilling a lot of my other dreams that my system and I had I realized how immature and ignorant I had been about true happiness. I was unaware of the consequences, drawbacks, and even the dynamics to even be in the position to achieve these goals.

I know these dreams degenerate but I didn't think they were that bad.

I realized that in a lot of ways my happiest memories were me and my buddies hanging out in my old universe and me and Alma and Mercy in this one. 

After remembering these memories I realized what I wanted to do with my life.