>>19600894What I did next I’m not proud of saying. I had to do it to live.
I started to rape the big fat retarded Irish fella. Put my tamale in his enchilada, if you know what I mean. When the cops busted down the door, I was inside him. I don’t know what he was doing. The sounds he were making, I didn’t know if they were in pleasure or in pain. I managed to pass it off as just two passionate lovers having their private time. The whole time my heart was beating up to my ears I was so afraid of blowing my cover.
Fortunately it worked. As soon as the coast was clear I was out of there. I moved back home to Pasadena, got clean, and started a family with my college sweetheart. She was on the ski team in college. I tried to forget it all, and I did.
I don’t think he forgot, though.
I recently came across this site, thinking that it was just another place to talk about wrestling. I quickly found out, though, that for almost the last 25 years, someone had been constantly talking about some “bitchtits” everywhere on the site. It was in every thread. Every post would get dozens of replies, accusing the author of being this “bitchtits.” Something about it seemed familiar. I thought about it carefully for a while. Real carefully.
Richard Titicaca.
Rich Titi.
Bitch tits.
Bitchtits.
It was the same guy. The same mentally disabled fellow that I had raped in that Dublin hotel room, so many years ago. He must have somehow learned about my fake identity, probably in the news or something. And he had become obsessed with me. Out of hate, a desire for revenge for what I did? Or out of attachment? An infatuation with the only one who had ever shown him what remotely could be described as love?
I don’t know. All I know is that my actions on that day in 1992 were the catalyst for everything that has happened on this site, how it became what it is today. I’m sorry for what I’ve done.
This is my truth.
