She was wrong.
I didn’t speak to anyone for days, especially not her. I lay around the house wondering how my dream could be shattered so badly. I thought Ariadne would be everything but instead there was nothing. There was no shared essence, no spark, and no commonality. We didn’t see the same, we didn’t love the same things, there was after all no burning need for touch and closeness, and she didn’t even make me laugh. I could never give her what she craved and lived for. I was just another brief p***y-pleaser in her long line, and she, when naked and with only me to think about in the whole world, was not quite the Goddess I had dreamt her up to be. I considered calling her and using my trigger phrase on her again, to see if it would be different a second time around, but I wasn’t sure
