how to create a social media panic

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I have clearly not actually finished my new site yet so there is no point looking around to see if it has launched. I have been to sleep (for about 4 hours as I half expected to have my door put in by the police) and I am still angry and upset. Thank you to the lovely people who did little things like buying me coffees as I did not expect it or sending me messages asking me if I was okay. I just want to specifically thank Abstrakt Studio in Glasgow – I don’t think the Mistresses there were getting much sense out of me yesterday when they did reach out because I was just upset and confused as to why I had the police showing up at my door because I was apparently ‘missing’. If you are new here, hi! Welcome. My life is not unhinged I promise.

If you have ever paid any real attention to me you will gather that I am notoriously private. I make reference to having a career outside of this (I do) so do not show my face in advertising. I have an entire life outside of this. I do not involve myself in a ‘lifestyle’ and I am quite blunt that I don’t care what other people think of me because when I am not Carina I enjoy my actual life. I have said, frequently, online bullshit slides off me because I metaphorically close the door after a session or log off and simply do not care. If you have a problem with Carina I could not care less because Carina is not real. Carina is a character I play as an entertainer. There are shades of me within Carina but I am an entertainer, however you want to dress this up. My content is there for the purpose of entertainment. It is not real. I do not believe my own hype nor bullshit and am insanely grounded. Most people who have met me will tell you that I do not think I am God’s gift to earth; I am actually quite pleasant until I am otherwise required not to be. I am active on Twitter as Carina because it is part of my role; in reality I despise the toxicity of social media. I despise how parasocial the internet has made people with this idea that you ‘know’ a person by tweets or likes. I despise the fact a person’s life can be ruined by a few people who spend too long in particular portions of the internet. Contrary to what internet bubbles lead people to believe, I personally hold no judgment over individuals over their posting content; I might not want to look at it because I… just don’t? Content may irk me, bore me or not be to my taste but I have no real fleshed out opinion on the actual person beyond not caring for content. The drive to perceive an individual on the basis of their output is not really something I buy into or care for.

If you have also ever paid real attention to me you will notice my hatred of parasocial behaviour and my saying social media breeds over-familiarity. I have been on the receiving end of this; all women have. There are men who realise that, again, I am an entertainer and have their contact with me for the purpose for said entertainment. They realise that outside of this there is another person. I cannot help the man who thinks of me one dimensionally. I do not think of those I encounter one dimensionally; some make themselves one dimensional, others are clearly very human. I have been told things that I know they would not want others to find out due to shame or reputation; none of it is illegal, criminal or a danger to others. It is none of my business. Ironically, this is probably why blackmail fantasies have always been a significant part of my business – all of these men know deep down their lives are safe, but they can disclose vast amount of detail. I have never even posted a clipped screenshot of a text without asking if it was fine (besides the last two Whatsapp conversations, and given the two women concerned sent the fucking police to my house, I think we have surpassed respect for boundaries).

I went out drinking with friends at the weekend, crash landed in my house, and woke up to a private number calling me on my personal phone yesterday. I answered it to be informed it was the police and I had had a welfare call placed about me; I genuinely thought it was a prank call and started laughing. Until a police van turned up at my house and two cops are peering in through my living room window. I had to go downstairs in thrown on clothes, in my street, in full view of my neighbours, completely confused and give them a complete dissection of my whereabouts the night before. I am also going to point out here that at least one of these women has made some reference to a dungeon if not my alter ego of Carina as they asked me about ‘abstract’ but I was too hungover to even realise. I legitimately thought it was a bonkers, malicious call from someone I must have ghosted because it was that unhinged. It was only as I started to wake/sober up that any cogs began to turn in my brain. There were at least two calls (I will come to the second in a moment). The police made reference to me ‘not having been online’ and I still had no idea what they were on about because why would I? Have you ever had to stand in the street in your PJs and show the cops your phone including (embarrassing) conversations with friends? Show who you are hooking up with and dating life? All to prove you are alive because of hysteria on the internet? Because I now have.

I am going to be fucking blunt with you here. I am not but imagine this scenario for one second. Imagine I was Snow White, married with three kids, sat at home with my unaware husband, and you’ve just sent a police van to my house for no other reason other than my not tweeting and the cops are in the street talking about a dungeon that they mention by name. Maybe you have no other life beyond this, but I do. You are a fucking liability of nuclear proportions. This call I suspect was placed by Stella, or Estella, or Loch Ness Monstress, or whatever the fuck she is calling herself on Twitter. This call came on my personal phone, linked to my work phone, with the police able to trace my home address. So I can surmise that clearly someone doxed me enough for sufficient information to be passed. I am still now sat wondering how much information was given in this call if she was stupid enough to mention the names of dungeons and my work phone number to cops given her penchant for “sex worker solidarity”. Some fucking solidarity. No one has my personal phone number. No one besides clients have been to my residence. I am curious as to who else they have managed to whip up into their two woman party of hysteria. I engage in fantasy blackmail scenarios as part of my job; I tell men that I will quite literally ruin their lives and have them humiliated before their family, employers and neighbours. Not once in a million years would I do to another human being what either of you two psychopaths, and whoever else you dragged into your fever dream, put me through this weekend.

I finally get my phone back when I go pick my car up and I see a bunch of completely unhinged messages – mainly on Twitter or in group chats – and this is where I will come to the element of parasocial relationships. So let me give you some background. I do not do drugs; I rarely drink; I am mentally stable. You may not think it from this blog but I assure you that I am. If I contacted someone insanely depressed or manic it would likely cause concern as it would be out of character for me. I am neither and have been neither. My disappearing for periods of time is quite normal; I have friends who have booked surprise trips for me and just turned up at my home. If you think I am so bereft of human contact I require people I have never met to send the police to my home then you are terminally online, and if you think any of this was in any way justifiable then please remove yourself from my life post haste. People who have known me for a long time will tell you I do not behave in ways that cause any concern; if anything I am rather benign. I do not have mood swings (maybe some of my exes would tell you otherwise); if anything I probably seem aloof and detached. I am not a crier. I am not even particularly emotional. It takes a lot to distress me, make me lose my temper or make me cry as I simply view the world in quite a pragmatic, analytical way.

I get online and I see tweets (now deleted) openly asking for my legal/real name by Stella, inviting complete strangers to dox me. I see Mistress Komakino replying to this, not once pointing out the danger to my safety.

I presume this was all spearheaded by Mistress Komakino when I did not respond to messages in a group chat. I have been told by Goddess Cleo that she was contacting her several times, and being told repeatedly (by Cleo) that I was most likely fine. I am also going to point out here that out of the three of these people:

• Cleo has actually met me, and I have stayed in her home
• Cleo has known me for a LONG time, and knows a lot more personal information about me
• Cleo did not call the police on me, nor did she appear to know the police were being called

I have removed myself from said group chats (and I would not be able to share screenshots from them anyway) but I will highlight one thing: 99% of these “concerns” were posted to group chats. Group chats that I mute because I cannot be arsed with constant pinging on my phone. I would not have seen these notifications. One woman responded very casually, again seeming unconcerned. No one had any reason to be concerned for my welfare, because there was none. My phone was on until approx 3pm on Friday, whereupon I switched it off, threw it under the passenger seat of my car and went out drinking. There were no missed calls from either of these women. What I do have are two very generic “hey you okay” type messages, and one DM – nothing that denotes any kind of emergency, or certainly indicates that they think I am lying in a pool of fucking blood in my house. Maybe I am bizarre for this but if I had genuine concerns for a person I would be, at the very least, calling them directly and not tagging them in tweets. Maybe I am applying too much common sense. None of these women have tried to call me either to my phone or via Whatsapp. They simply whipped themselves up in some fever dream hysteria before taking to Twitter and group chats. And if you bought into that, then you are a fucking idiot who believes anything a particular person tweets – and damn the consequences for whoever is on the receiving end. You are everything I despise about the internet and its ability to ruin people’s lives based on the hysteria of random people you do not know.

What I will say to preserve the discretion of said group chats is that Komakino chose to take to Dominatrix and Mistress group chats with “welfare concerns” before contacting me directly and privately. The women in these chats can check the times of which said posts were made against when I was contacted myself, against the lack of phone calls. I have not posted screenshots from these groups despite leaving them. The women in these groups are adults and more than capable of checking timestamps for themselves. I gather other women were called repeatedly yet, as I have said, my phone was on until approximately 3pm on Friday when I turned it off as I was going out drinking. I still get missed call alerts. Excuse me for pointing out the obvious but… how do you know I am “missing” if you have not actually texted or called me?

I am going to be real with you all here. I have had a welfare call placed on me once by my best friend, when I really did need it. I was not suicidal, I was sick; I was that sick I had no idea I needed medical treatment. But I was calling her practically speaking in tongues to the point she asked me if I had taken drugs. I would hang up the phone, she would call back, this saga would continue until she lost it and called 999. People who have genuine concerns for your welfare do not fuck around with tweets and group chats. They do not have time for likes and retweets. They dial 999 – or go to your house, because they actually know you. And yes, I have also had to go to someone’s house out of concerns for their welfare. I have lost a friend to suicide. I have done more panicked drives followed by banging on doors/climbing in windows and 999 calls in my life than I can count. I am not unsympathetic to genuine concern where it is merited (which it was not). What I can assure you I have never done is turn to social media.

These tweets asking for my legal/real name were being shared by men. Completely strange men with accounts full of porn. It is fucking laughable that any of this was done with any real concern for my safety. It was nothing more than concern-swatting and fucking unhinged. Both of them were interacting on this tweet. There was discussion of contacting “AW” (presumably Adultwork – apparently a typo – although given everything else I don’t think anyone could blame me) which I’d have found hilarious as if AW even gave out that info they’d have found out I was active on the site on Friday am. I’m pretty sure my last active would show on my profile. None of it was done for ‘concern’. I have had an email from the owner of Abstrakt saying that multiple people were contacting them (and Saffyre) asking for my personal information (which they refused to disclose). The owner of Abstrakt rightfully pointed out that it was not just data protection, it was the risk of women being stalked. Something that clearly went through neither parties’ minds when they were inviting random strange men – again, with accounts full of pornography – to engage in soliciting my private and personal information. By contrast I did not immediately disclose either of the Dommes involved in this. I could not give a shit now. At no point did either woman see this tweet, all in capital letters, soliciting my legal information on porn twitter, and think “hey, maybe this is fucking stupid and crazy and dangerous”. I want to stress to you that even bombarding a woman who saw me earlier in the week (Saffyre), who was that unfazed she didn’t contact me, or bombarding a woman I have known for years (Cleo) who was equally unfazed, was not good enough. Both of these women knew better than those who had either set eyes on me and/or know me well enough to make a judgment call about my ‘welfare’. Both of these women thought nothing of sending people to dox me under the pretence this was ‘concern’. And again, if you were one of these parties contacting a dungeon or the fucking police – remove yourself from my life. You are a gullible twat who believes anything you see on social media in the absence of tangible evidence. If these women tweeted “Carina DeMedici has 20 dead bodies buried in her back garden, call the cops!!!” – would you have done it too?

At 11pm last night I receive a second call from the police, this time to my work phone. I also have a text from them on this citing two different reference numbers. This one has now changed from a concern for welfare to flat out “missing person”. I am told in so many words that this one has come from outside Scotland (so likely Komakino). Do you know what happens if you are reported missing rather than a fear for welfare? The police contact your friends and family. They will investigate your financial records. They will look for you on CCTV. Don’t believe me? Still think its dramatic to call it concern-swatting or be as angry as I am? By this point even the police think this is all malicious and I have lost it on the phone as I am potentially going to have the police at my door for the second time in a day because of at least two individuals I do not actually know that well. I want to stress again that beyond the fact I do not know either of them that well, I also have said NOTHING that would have indicated there was any concerns for my welfare. I couldn’t care less if the police chase anyone involved in this for wasting police time. I actually hope they do. What I will say is that the police came to my home around 2-3pm regarding my personal phone number. These are reference numbers and calls after 5pm to my work phone number – so if there is a third party involved, please make yourself known.

Anyone who has come to visit me would know exactly why I freaked out at the idea of the police visiting. You are talking about two stupid, self absorbed women who have the luxury of being able to disappear into the anonymity of massive cities. Do you think their ‘concern’ will stretch into the cost of paying for me having to move after the work I have put into my property? Even Glaswegians wouldn’t have been this fucking dense and every Glaswegian will know exactly what I mean because of where I stay. You are a faceless entity in London; not in Glasgow and definitely not where I live. Do you think I was going mad about not having a car because where I live is a hubris of brilliant public transport? Do I need to spell out the obvious to you? They are blocked across Twitter and Whatsapp but not on text/phone – neither of them have made any attempt to contact me, even if they knew they would be told to get fucked. One of them was fast to start scrubbing tweets. You know who did contact me, despite not being involved, saying she knew I probably didn’t want to talk to her and she knew how angry I was? Cleo. But either of the two women who spearheaded it? Crickets. So if you want to use how unhinged you are that you’ll concern-swat a person for marketing, you’re not that unhinged that you won’t even call me to get chewed out and spat out. You’re brave enough to tweet at men asking them for my personal info, bombard a dungeon and call the police reporting me missing. You can even livestream it if you need the likes and retweets that badly. I don’t think my name holds that much weight but if you need to balance on my bag knock yourself out I guess as I’m doing fine holding mine and not bothering anyone else.

I have seen messages where I had not contacted Komakino “since Tuesday” (12th Sept). What she failed to tell anyone is that I had said over the weekend how I was quite enjoying my personal life “away from all of this”. That was in the voicemail message on Monday 11th Sept where I said I had spent the weekend involved in my personal life because I was, frankly, sick of the one dimensional bullshit that came with this. I did not say or infer that I was going to go jump off a bridge because I was sick of it all; I was laughing and clearly very happy being switched off and involved in my own real life. I was talking about going out on dates, going out with friends etc. This is not the behaviour of someone at risk. You can see she has replied to this, and clearly whatever I have said was so unimportant she did not feel the need to reply until whatever started this delusion. (It was about intox.) My only other contact with her would have been in a group chat with Cleo who equally had no idea where she cooked up this idea that quiet = dead. You can see her only direct contact to me is generic, not panicked. All of this shit with contacting Abstrakt, dungeons, tweets soliciting my dox etc, was done without my knowledge as I was simply out living my life. Something she was aware I was doing in my voicemail to her on Monday. I have called the police on someone because of a credible risk to their safety because they have told me they are either a) going to hurt themselves, b) have been involved in some genuine danger to their person I could immediately hear (ie domestic abuse) or had credible, justified reason to suspect or c) have done something stupid to themselves where they could not sleep it off. I have bombarded their phone with messages and calls telling them I am going to be left with no other choice. This was not “caring”. This was unhinged lunacy for no fucking reason. My handles are the same on pretty much all methods of contact – none of them have tried to add me on Skype (I was talking to someone on Skype on Friday am because I was at my regular job and it pops up on my laptop). It was an instant “what is Carina DeMedici’s real name – let’s get the cops sent to her house” within a 24 hour window. If you think this is “caring” then you are parasocial. I have never once engaged in a conversation with either party where they would be led to believe I was a risk to myself, engaged in behaviour where I was at risk of harm, or socialised in environments where I was at risk.

I just want to know what is the difference between a man who thinks I am sat in the house all day in latex waiting on him to call me to session and a woman who thinks if I do not tweet on a Domme account or reply in a group chat about BDSM I must be lying in a house dead because from where I am standing both parties believe a little too much in a fantasy. I want you to explain to me how fast you can be duped by a few tweets or comments in a group chat about a person to the point you will report them to the police. Can you give me a reason beyond ‘didn’t tweet’ for why you were concerned about me? Because I can go into several of my Carina associated accounts – AW, Skype – and show conversations I was having on Friday am. If you know me so well, what is one memory of mine that will single handedly reduce me to tears? Who was the first person who broke my heart? What degree classification do I hold? In fact, how many degrees do I hold? What job do I have that splits my time that much and what industry do I work in? Where do I have scars and how did I end up with them? Wait – you don’t know the answers to these questions, because you actually don’t know me. You know Carina, and what I choose to show you. And no, I’m not bothered about putting that so bluntly in writing like I am tanking my business because normal men know all this. And normal men would equally realise why I would be fucking horrified at the idea of having my personal information splashed about on accounts full of pornography. Because men know men, and some men are not nice people. Why am I not allowed to simply go off and have a private life with my friends without having to be contactable at all hours to men and apparently women when they are in some kind of mass hysteria they dreamed up in their own minds? At what point would anyone normal think I would behave calmly to police turning up at my home address or calling me all day? Why do you think I would ever be warm or receptive to people asking twitter to dox me?