RECORD STORE TALES #1072.5: The Final, Final Word on Married and Heels
Like a bad penny, reminders of this person keep popping up in my life. Her fans like her pictures, and I’ve used them as thumbnail images on Edie Van Heelin’ episodes when appropriate. I often see Edie and Married and Heels posts pop up in my top ten for hits.
Recently, one of her real-life running associates read one of these Edie stories (Winter Vacation to be specific) . He or she dropped a comment, with Married and Heels’ real name. I only knew her as Joelle. I deleted the real name…but could not resist Googling her.
And now, I’m starting to understand.
She called me her “always and forever” friend, and she said we were the “real deal”. Now I see why that was not and never would be the case.
I was never going to be Joelle’s real friend. She was never going to mix any aspect of her “fan world” with her real life. I’ve seen her social media. It’s very vanilla. It’s very church. She leads a double life. In one, she’s a housewife and a church deacon, raising two kids and running marathons for charity. In the other life, she’s flirting with hundreds of men, showing her naked body for money, wearing sexy clothing. There is no sexy clothing in her vanilla life. She’s two different people.
There’s Joelle, the person I knew.
Then there’s *****, the church woman with not a shred of sexy clothing or a hint of her life as a high-heels collector and model.
She wanted me to be friends with Joelle. She didn’t want me anywhere near *****. Her double life led her to this quandary. I was so very tired of Joelle, the daily photos, the hustling for money, the flirting with fans. I didn’t like it. I could only last eight months in that world. I wanted to know *****, not Joelle. I’m not even sure that I liked Joelle. Not after eight months of watching her hustle her fans for thousands and thousands and thousands of dollars. I did the math once and figured out approximately what she’s making from OnlyFans. It’s not a bad side hustle. But that world is not for me. Those people are not for me.
In the end, I hated Joelle. I wanted to be friends with *****. I liked the real person behind Joelle. I wanted to see more of her.
Don’t forget, we chatted in real life on Instagram. I sent her mail with a Grab A Stack tote bag and a custom Lego figure from Harrison. These are things real friends do, not fans. I know she was terrified of her church finding out about her secret life. I would be too. We could have been real friends, but the myopic husband refused to allow it. She said she had no “male” friends, which raises huge red flags about the husband. The husband would never allow one of her “fans” to have access to the real her. Not to *****. Only to Joelle.
I guarantee that the husband made her throw away the Grab A Stack tote bag, which was expensive. There is no way he wanted that to be seen. No way he wanted anyone to connect ***** to Grab A Stack of Rock.
Imagine if I was her Facebook friend, as I wanted to be. The husband would be terrified that their family and friends would wonder who this guy was on *****’s friends list. A male friend? I would have raised eyebrows. People might have clicked me, and found all of *****’s appearances on Grab A Stack of Rock. That simply could not happen to him. In their eyes, that road led to excommunication from their church.
We didn’t have to be friends on social media for us to survive. We could have communicated by email, by text, or by private message on any platform other than OnlyFans. The husband would not allow it, and I place the blame squarely upon him for that.
As for *****, I blame her for claiming our friendship was “the real deal” and “always and forever”, when she knew that would never be the case. She was the one who brought up coming to Kincardine, Ontario to hang out with me. The only friendship she wanted was one in the fan world. She didn’t want a friend in her vanilla life. She wanted one in her fan world only. After eight months, that could not be me anymore. I hated every day on that site. The gross comments from her fans, the stripping. That is not the kind of friendship I wanted. If she had let me leave OnlyFans and continue our friendship any other way, we might still be friends today.
Then again, we might not. I’m starting to think that I never really knew *****. From what I’ve seen on her social media, she never told me much about her real life at all. She wanted it separate too. She led me on. She lied to me. And I believed it. In my naivete, I truly believed we were friends. I wasn’t her friend. I was just her favourite fan. If I ever showed up at the door of her real life, I would be kicked to the curb like a mangy dog.
There were clues. Hints that I was just a fan. Hustling me to buy photo sets, or to buy live streams. Things you wouldn’t do to a real friend.
Whoever the “Nevada Runner” was that left the comment with her real name, I think I owe you a thanks. Checking out her socials proved to me that there was never a future in that friendship. There was no room for a strange man from Canada. The only room for me in her life was in her secret life. Regardless of her meeting my friends and talking to everyone in my life on Grab A Stack of Rock, the reverse would never be true. It was an uneven “friendship”, if it was ever that at all.
While I will never forget what she did to me…I forgive her. *****, I forgive you.
I forgive you.
It’s not always honesty That is the best policy But little lies can give you away Though you’ll deny it if they say maybe you’re just
Leading a double life Friends in the daytime, strangers at night Leading a double life Can it be wrong when you know that it’s right?
I THOUGHT WE WERE FRIENDS – TURNS OUT I WAS JUST A CUSTOMER ALL ALONG
RECORD STORE TALES #1072: DARKNE$$ BE MY FRIEND (The Final Word)
“Summer’s so quickly gone, darkness be my friend, Nothing lasts forever, but the certainty of change.”– BRUCE DICKINSON
“Eyelashes and some white leather boots.” – RYAN ADAMS
“Always and forever!” – MARRIED AND HEELS
“It’s business only!” – BEARD DADDY’S DECREE
She hurt me deeply, insulted me with her actions and words, and in the process showed her true colours. But still….
Questions. My mind reels with questions. Digging through my phone, deleting old junk, I stumbled upon screenshots of messages from Joelle the California Girl (MarriedandHeels)* that once meant something to me. When I saw these screenshots, I began to question everything. Was I wrong about her? Was there still something in that friendship worth saving? My old messages indicated there might be.
From New Year’s Day:
“Happiest New Year my dearest friend, my dearest Mike!!! Your words never cease to stop and take my breath away, teary eyed. I cherish you and our friendship. I’m so glad you came into my life. I don’t think you understand how much our shared time has meant to me…especially those first few months after my surgery. I don’t think I could have gotten through it all without you. You are a hero in my story. And as for our story, there are still so many adventures for us to share, fiction and non-fiction!!! I know it!!! Your dreams and wishes are mine as well. Always and forever.”
A hero in her story! I wonder how she likes being part of my story now…
I remember being so excited about the future of our friendship and creative collaborations. A few days later she was on Grab A Stack of Rock for the first time. I was her start! She asked me to co-host her OnlyFans show with her. “I need someone to talk to on camera,” she said as the husband pushed her to go live. In hindsight I’m glad that never happened. The husband talked her out of that one. He was always in control, always pushing her to hustle for tips. She asked me to help hustle. I did.
We began working on more Edie Van Heelin’ stories. She was so pumped that I was merging her story with Tee Bone Man, and she loved my story premise for Tee Bone vs. Edie! A story she ultimately never read.
How about this doozy, from September 2022:
“Would it be weird if I came to visit you at your cottage?”
That one returned to haunt her, again and again. She should never have asked if she didn’t mean it.
These are not isolated messages.
“I can’t wait to watch us unfold together. I feel all the pain and heartache you’ve dealt with, and all that you continue to walk through, and I hope you can feel me right beside you, holding your hand every step of the way. Maybe some will think we look different, but all I see are our similarities, and the differences that actually bring us closer together. I don’t want you any different than the amazing and cool guy I know you to be. You are cool; for so many reasons you are cool. Thank you for being my friend and having my back! Here’s to many more good and bad days; days that we will get through together. Always yours!”
All lies. Unfortunately there were not that many more good or bad days to come. Our days were numbered and the clock was ticking.
I can admit now that I was always wary. Something about our friendship seemed…surreal? Impossible? And ultimately, that’s exactly what it was. It always seemed to me like it would have a limited lifespan. There were always boundaries. Because of the nature of her “adult” work, and the husband’s privacy concerns, our conversations were usually but not always limited to OnlyFans. I always wondered…what happens when my subscription expires? I didn’t want to be there forever. I was not happy there. I hoped we could transition our friendship to something more “normal”. Communicate by email. Make friends on social media. Anything.
Eventually the ice broke. After several weeks of reduced contact, on April 19 2023, she asked if we could talk face to face via video chat on Instagram. I set aside my lunch hour to do just that. We had a wonderful talk. I felt like our friendship was finally entering the real world. She gave me an email address so that we could collaborate on Tee Bone Man properly together. I was overjoyed. Little did I know, we were racing towards the end.
Despite her words of “always and forever”, it was not meant to last. I used to blame myself, but not anymore.
As stated in a previous chapter, on April 28 she began a new journey: stripping online. While I always found her attractive and I happily supported her on OnlyFans, this was a road I could not follow. She was my friend. And I don’t think she understood that I simply did not want to see my friend naked. Lingerie was one thing. Naked was a boundary in my mind that I could not cross. I used to tell my friends, “Yeah, she has an OnlyFans, but she doesn’t get naked. She keeps her clothes on.” When that changed…everything else did too.
“I went out of my comfort zone,” she told me, but why did I have to go out of my comfort zone for her? Why did she assume I wanted to see her naked?
I refused to watch. I hated her show. I lied and told her it was great, but the strip club perv vibe wasn’t for me. Her gross fans made me feel uncomfortable. But I faked it. I lied. I guess our friendship was always based on dishonesty, in both directions. Guilty as charged — but so is she.
Though she claimed to be indifferent, she didn’t seem to be happy about me skipping her stripshow. Reading between the lines, it seemed obvious. This is not something I wanted to discuss in crappy texts. It had to be discussed voice to voice, or face to face. Either/or. She was very volatile when it came to sensitive subjects. It had to be handled right. She stripped again on May 5, Cinco de Mayo. I wanted to talk about it but got shot down twice. I simply wanted to explain why I was not comfortable watching, even though she seemed enthused at the prospect. “Are we OK?” I asked. She refused to answer. “Are you and I OK? Can we talk?”
The answer was colder than any I ever received from her. She clearly had no desire to open this subject.
“No, I can’t be talking like that anymore. Sorry.”
What?? The husband** was “cracking down” and she “got in trouble” for calling me on Instagram. If I wanted to talk to her…I’d have to pay. I am certain that she told him the previous Instagram call was my request. It wasn’t. It was all hers, 100%. I never asked for it. She wanted to talk to me. In order to stay out of “trouble”, I am sure she told him it was my idea.
I was shell-shocked. I asked her “How many friends do you have that you have to pay to talk to?” Apparently this question hurt her tremendously. She said she had no friends. I always thought that was an exaggeration, but now I actually believe her. I don’t think she does have any friends. “You have friends, actual friends. I do not.” Her words.
Nothing lasts forever, but the certainty of change. She changed on Cinco de Mayo. Like night and day.
I can only guess. My feeling, and the feelings of those who know the story, is that I was only a friend to her as long as I was also a fan. She needed the adoration. She needed the compliments. She needed the affirmation that she was beautiful. When I stopped providing that…she stopped behaving like my friend. That’s a fact. I can only draw the conclusion that one thing was connected to the other.
Other friends feel there was an element of the “long con” going on, but certain things don’t quite add up. Why did she appear on my show five times if it was just a long con? I’m not convinced, but I’m open to the argument that it was all just a long cash grab.
She once said she’d always make time for Grab A Stack of Rock. I was worried about this. As I became less and less comfortable with her live shows, but before she began stripping, I felt like it was heading in a direction I could not follow. It was causing me a lot of stress every Friday. I didn’t want to watch, but felt obligated. She knew something was up, but shot me down when I wanted to talk about it. I remember saying to Jen, “I feel like I have to watch her live show, because if I don’t, I think she’ll stop participating in Grab A Stack of Rock.” Jen responded, “I think you’re right.” But MarriedandHeels reassured me, “No, I would never want you to feel forced to watch. What’s the point?” Yet when push came to shove…and I stopped watching…she stopped participating in Grab A Stack just as Jen and I predicted.
Suddenly our friendship seemingly had new conditions. You support my live show, and I support yours. She denied it, but that’s the way it played out.
“Of course you can choose to look at or watch whatever you want or don’t want. I would never force you. Ever.” She was not lying necessarily. Even though in the past she told me it meant a lot to her when I watched…now she suddenly acted like it didn’t matter. I did not believe her that it didn’t anymore. No, she wouldn’t force me to watch. She would just take away her appearances on my show if I didn’t, which is exactly what happened.
May the 5th, Cinco de Mayo, was the last gasp. She was excited about going topless once again, and even though I tried to talk about it the previous week, she continued to insist I watch. When I said “I’ve never seen a friend of mine topless”, she sent me a shrug emoji and became very cold. Was my approval that important to her? To her idea of friendship?
The husband, however, had spoken. It was a pay-to-play friendship. “We met because of a fetish and that cannot be denied,” she said as he coached her on how to respond to me. All of a sudden, she was backtracking on that “hero” and “always and forever” talk…all meaningless bullshit now. Does it matter how friends meet when one claims the other to be a hero, always and forever? I was deeply insulted by her two-faced words, but I still had one more question.
“If I cancelled my OnlyFans, would you still talk to me?” I asked. The answer (after asking twice!) was, of course, no. This was the first time I had ever been told this. Again: I had to ask twice before she would be up-front with me. Twice.
We stopped speaking for two days. After being told that our friendship could only be maintained if I remained on OnlyFans, paying for access by order of the husband, I said to her I would not be logging in again. “I will always be available. You have my information,” I told her. “You are very special. One of my favourite people in the world. But I cannot accept paying for a friend, because that’s not friendship. By definition, it’s not.”
100% true.
I don’t think she really understood that. She had no friends. No experience with real friendship. None. It’s quite sad when you think about it.
Two days later, I returned. Even though she had become quite cold to me, and the warmth would never return, I thought we could try to salvage it. Since she had placed conditions on our friendship, I thought I could do the same:
I placed two conditions on our friendship: 1) I would choose what content of hers I consumed, and if I chose not to watch, then it had to be that way without question or pressure. 2) I would be taking over Edie Van Heelin’ and Grab A Stack of Rock on my own. Collaboration on Edie was impossible with the new conditions placed on our friendship, and asking her to be on Grab A Stack was anxiety inducing. Ultimately I did ask her, one more time, as anxiety-inducing as it was. There was a matter of a parcel to unbox.
You’ve all seen the Lego Edie that Harrison made for our stories. When I showed her, she loved it! She wanted it for herself! She offered to pay for it! So Harrison made her a duplicate, and sent it to me, to send to her. And that’s a whole other chapter of this odyssey. The husband clearly didn’t want me to have their address.
“I’m still confirming how to get you an address,” went one of the weirdest messages she ever sent.
“How” to get me an address? How “friendly!” You type it out and I put it on the parcel. Simple. I live three time zones away. I’m not stalking you…”friend”.
Finally he agreed to let me send one parcel, and only one. And she was not permitted to send me one in return, as we had planned all along. No Christmas cards allowed, nor any birthday cards. By this time I knew the friendship was on seriously perilous rocky ground, and I just wanted that Lego figure out of my house. I packed it up and mailed it to her. Then we had our massive fight on Cinco de Mayo two days after I mailed that parcel.
I sent it express, so that she could open it on her next appearance of Grab A Stack, on May 12. After our Cinco de Mayo fight, I attempted to reconcile with her on May 7 and 8. The parcel arrived on time, and I still had the show scheduled to proceed May 12. She was still welcome to join. She chose not to. The ironic thing was the pure schadenfreude I felt on May 12 when she attempted to go live on OnlyFans and failed due to technical issues! I had to laugh at that. She could have spent the day with me at the cottage on Grab A Stack of Rock, and instead sat at home doing nothing. Karma? The universe strikes back for snubbing me.
Even then, after all this, I still hadn’t given up completely. I thought there was still a remote chance we could get back to where we were. “I still think the ideal way to open your parcel is live on Grab A Stack, from the cottage, whenever you may want to try that again. I still want to do that. How do you feel about this idea?” Notice that I put no time limit on this: “Whenever you may want to try that again.”
This question took her almost 24 hours to answer so coldly. An unprecedented timespan. She’d never taken this much time to respond to me, ever before, even without the freezing cold words.
“Sorry I never got back to you yesterday. Things are a little busy right now. As for right now, I don’t think I’ll be able to join you live. I’m not sure what the future holds but for now I think that’s best. There’s just too much going on. I’m sorry.”
A lie. What a change. From saying she’d always make time for Grab A Stack, to this. I was heartbroken. I felt so hurt, so cold. It was a little white lie. She wasn’t “too busy”. She was almost always free Fridays at noon Pacific. She just took the weak way out.
Ironically, the parcel I sent her that contained her Lego doppelgänger also contained her own Grab A Stack merch: a tote bag and a sticker. Merch from a show that she had effectively resigned from.
I took a few hours to digest her rejection. As it turns out, it was the last time we ever spoke. May 16, 2023. I sent her the following message later that night.
“I’m going to be taking a short break away from OF. I need to take some time to absorb change. I need to refocus myself, and I am very sorry. I am sure you understand. I’ll be back when I feel like myself again. I hope not long.”
I served a liar with a another lie. She deserved it. I knew there was a good chance that I’d never feel like myself again. I intended to ghost her.
I stayed away for two weeks. Only May 29, I decided I didn’t like the feeling of how I left things, so I logged in and left one more message.
“I hope you are doing OK. I know you have a marathon coming first weekend of June, and I know you had tests with the oncologist, and I haven’t forgotten. I am still on break; I am not back. I have no idea how you feel about me at this moment. I have not read my messages or anything else, and because of my extreme anxiety, I won’t be. However I did want you to know that I am OK.”
That was a lie. I was pretty far from OK.
I stayed away for six more weeks. Eight weeks in total. Then I discovered those old messages about “always and forever” and I thought there might be something here worth saving. There must be.
After much hesitation, I logged in. Since my last login, there was nothing new waiting for me. No messages. Nothing since the final May 16th exchange. Admittedly I said I wouldn’t be reading…but the lack of anything at all left a bad feeling in my stomach. A very bad feeling. I already felt that it was a no-win scenario. Kobayashi Maru. The chances of saving the friendship were 99 to 1 at best. Logging in and seeing nothing at all…not even a comment or reassurance about that “I have no idea how you feel about me at this moment,” part. In my mind that was all I needed to know.
She didn’t care. She only cared as long as I was behaving as a fan. Fawning over her, flattering her. When that stopped, she changed. Cold and distant.
The message that ended my fanship with her, and probably ended her desire to be my friend.
Any number of things could have saved it. A simple message saying “I’m thinking about you.” Or, “I hope you are OK.” A picture of her Lego figure that I sent to her. I assume she unboxed my parcel months ago, but I don’t know. For all I know, it’s in a California landfill now. Especially the Grab A Stack tote bag. For Christ’s sake, she could have acknowledged my concern about her appointment with the cancer doctor. What a cold thing to do. What a cold person she must be in real life.
Upon seeing no messages from her, I didn’t know what to do. I called Jex. I called Jen into the room. With their support, and with them as witnesses, I killed my OnlyFans account right then and there, and all the messages and history that came with it. All nuked. I closed the last door. It is shut forever now. There is no going back.
I will never hear from her again. She made that abundantly clear. There is simply no way. Why would she? She can get all the attention she needs now by taking off her clothes. She doesn’t need me for that.
Still, I wonder. I see those old messages from the good days, and I wonder. Was it real? Was it just fantasy? A mixture of both, perhaps. I don’t believe that MarriedandHeels lives in the same real world that we do. I think I was an escape for her, and our friendship was just a fantasy. When she once asked me, “Would it be weird if I came to visit you at your cottage?” she was dreaming. She’d never be able to do that. I think she knew it too. But when she asked that question, I thought it was real. I thought it was so real that I even wrote Edie Van Heelin’s Canadian Vacation about it. Now I feel foolish. She talked about it seriously, but it was never going to happen, ever.
“I thought I was your friend,” I said to her on May 5. “Not a customer.”
“You are my friend,” she limply responded.
But I wasn’t. By the strictest definitions, I never was. In her sick fantasy world, it was a friendship…as long as I was her fan.
I am done trying. I invested too much of my heart and creativity into this. I used to spend time every morning, filming videos for her and sending clever messages. Every morning for almost nine months. I drove past a huge snowbank every day in the winter just to make a video for her mornings. I integrated her into my show, my fiction, my life. I put 200% into it, and got 10% back.
She ended it, not me. With her cold heart, and refusal to talk, she ended it. My conscience is clear. The death of this friendship, and all the resultant fallout, rests on her shoulders. Nobody else.
I wish her the best in her life, but she’s going to have to do it without her “always and forever” friend, the “real deal” that she “treasured”. She blew it, big time. “I am truly broken,” she claimed. Cry me a river, toxic girl and your creep of a pimp husband. She could have had me for the whole ride. Her loss. I am moving on.
* Her fake “social media name” that she misled me with for four months. Yes I do know her real name, and no for the thousandth time, I will not tell you. As far as I’m concerned her name is Mud.
** Her pimp went by the online name “Beard Daddy“, but I refuse to use that ridiculous name for someone who hates me. If you saw what he looked like, you’d understand why he found me so threatening! I call him “Captain Deck Shoes”.
*** This only scratches the surface. I could have said so, so much more about what was “allowed” and “not allowed” in this pay-to-play friendship. But I won’t. This chapter of my life is closed as are the comments. Money trumps Jesus for these “Christian” hypocrites. I know a Slayer song they might like.
**** Looking back…she wasn’t my brightest friend. She couldn’t spell “of course” correctly, and didn’t know what cyanide was. My brain is definitely healthier, being away from her “essential healing oils” and “salt for health”. I am better off without her.
***** If I have stopped just one person from sending her a gift, a tip, or even a compliment…then I have won.
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