Moments are the framework of our lives. Some are brief, fleeting encounters that go unremembered. Some are memorable for being funny, frightening, or some compelling combination of both that leave traces as we relate these remembered moments at the end of the day. Then there are those moments that stick like fingerprints on panes of glass, moments that are with us forever. Moments can also be so innocuous at first glance that they seem inconsequential, and only in times of deep reflection do they appear so vividly that we’re finally able to see them for what they are: moments that have irrevocably changed the course of our lives. A year ago I started an Instagram account under the name @prison.daddy. It was just a moment in a day, not much different from any other. I had no idea I was changing the course of my life.

To tell this story accurately, I have to step back more than a year, all the way to December 13th, 2019. I was exactly nine months into my prison bid. The two best friends I’d made in prison were gone—they’d been on a video that was found on an old phone. That’s how prison is: one day you’re spending every second of the day with someone, and the next they’re gone forever. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. The girl I was in love with had just blocked me on everything yet again, and I was about to spend my first Christmas in prison all alone. The feeling of being forgotten is omnipresent behind these walls; none of the friends who had promised to visit me had even filled out visitation forms.

I was scrolling through Instagram when I saw a post from @meredithactually. I remember thinking she was hot, her luscious skin draped in silky lingerie. I’d recently started following her account because of a funny meme she’d posted about dating with the goal of getting her vagina licked. Since I’m 99% sure that licking vagina well was the only reason my last three girlfriends dated me, I knew I would find her funny. I had no idea she was so beautiful beyond the thirst trap pics she’d been posting. I slid in her comments and asked if she wanted a prison boyfriend. To my astonishment, she actually replied. When I think about this moment now, my emotions surrounding the event have become muddled. One thing I’ve learned in prison is to try to remember moments for what they were, not the way the present has colored them. So, in that moment, I was happy. The next 18 days were spent getting to know Meredith; I watched every clip of her standups I could find, played every podcast she’d been on. I listened to her, really listened to her. As I sit here and write this, I can once again smile at how real it all was. Those were honestly some of the happiest moments of my life.

I had my personal Instagram account, but I wanted to keep that private, so I made Prison Daddy because I wanted an account I could use to showcase my personality. I won’t lie, I was flat out mimicking what I was learning from Meredith. From how to craft an identity to how to capture an audience, she seemed pretty well-versed at the social media game. The name was simple enough; I’m in prison, and my experiences with women have shown me that I bring out a “daddy” kink in many of them. I’m sure my choice has kept many people from following my content, but I don’t regret it. Prison Daddy has become part of who I am. I’m arrogant, I’m highly sexual, I’m passionate about the things I hold dear. That said, there is a fine line between an internet persona and who a person really is.

Looking back, I can see the moments where I made my mistakes. That’s what they say, isn’t it? Hindsight is 20/20. January was amazing, but the mistakes were already racking up. The most consistent downfall in my life has been my inability to stay faithful, even to people I genuinely care for. I could sit here and write that it wasn’t going to work out anyway, that there was no way she was going to wait three years for someone she’d never even met, and while I’m probably right, that’s not the point. The point is that Meredith really did open up to me. What we had seemed real. She went out of her way to help my account grow. Of course, she was fucking other people, but I had assured her that it didn’t bother me. What I wanted was to simply be the guy that she talked to, and she allowed me to be that.

Along with my Instagram account, I started a blog. I’d found Meredith’s website and absolutely loved her writing. It was simple stuff, just different experiences on dating that I related to, but it was authentic. It was her candor that inspired me to write my stories, but I could never have imagined at the time that writing would save my life and carry me through the darkest moments of my existence. After only a couple of blog posts, I had two friends message me and say that they thought my writing was good, but they were offering to edit my grammar and diction. I sent them both a copy of my next post, and Candice had it edited the next morning. Candice has been there for me and encouraged me through every step of this process. I believe in my content, I believe in my words, but without her, my page and my blog, my hopes and dreams of a future in writing would be dead. I had no idea sending her that blog to edit would be a life-altering moment. For Candice and for that moment, I will be forever grateful.

February felt like I was back in L.A. driving a G-Wagon with forty pounds of weed in it along with the smell of whatever girl I’d taken home from the Bungalow still fresh on my skin. Only I was still in prison, the weed came in chapstick caps, and I hadn’t smelled any women in nearly a year, yet I sure did have a lot of women who wished they had an opportunity to leave their smell on me. One week I received nudes from fifty different women. In prison, that’s as close as it gets to scoring. Looking back now, this is when I really lost Meredith. As humans, we can just tell when people starting acting differently. I’m sure this is how Meredith felt. She’d never said I couldn’t sext with other women, and I don’t think she would’ve cared if that’s all it had been, but I think she felt me getting bigger than I was. Maybe she thought I was outgrowing her when I was still a little fish in an enormous ocean.

Meredith and I had our first real disagreement over the direction of my page. She didn’t find some of the stuff I was posting funny, but like I’ve said, there was more to it than that. By then, I had the other women I was talking to more, and they were more than willing to take my side. I say that, and it sounds much more cynical than it was. I love to get to know people, especially beautiful women. I like to dream of what life would be like with different ones. We have a rule in prison: if you get three months of a bid with a girl, you did well. How can we blame girls when they move on? I know it sounds fucked up, but the truth is that I could see myself with a few of the girls I got to know. I probably got to know them better than I would any normal girl I slept with on the outside. Even after nine months without a phone, there are a few I still think about every day. When February ended, things with Meredith and I were awkward, but I still felt like my page and writing were growing exponentially.

What happened in March was like driving 90 mph into a brick wall. Nine months later and it still hurts. I wish I understood everything that went down, but I know that I never will. Meredith ended things, but that wasn’t surprising. What shocked me was how vicious things got. It was claimed that I sent unsolicited pictures to many of her followers. I can only answer to the one I know for sure fabricated screenshots and sent them to Meredith. I didn’t realize girls would take the time to delete their own messages to look good for someone they viewed as a celebrity. I never got specifics on more than just that one, but it was accused that I’d made this a pattern of practice. I’ll take this opportunity to apologize to anyone who did feel like I was too forward with them. I can’t promise that I’ve never read a situation wrong—seems like I must have—but I can promise my intent was not to disrespect anyone.

Meredith felt, and not incorrectly, that she had made me what I was. I wasn’t a celebrity by any means, but I was very pleased with the audience I was able to reach. Her plea for all of her followers to block or delete me, followed by other accounts with large followings doing the same, crushed me. I really didn’t lose that many followers in numbers, but that feeling of being “cancelled” was like being kicked in the teeth. I’m already in prison; I didn’t know it was possible to get any lower. I had random people messaging me threats, telling me I was a piece of shit, people who had no idea what was actually going on. Maybe they were right. The worst part was having the message I tried to bring to the world muddled in so much controversy. Sex is a part of me—it’s a part of all of us—but it is far from all of me. I hope most of the people who read this know that. Meredith, if you read this, I’m truly sorry. I understand why you felt used, and all I can counter that with is a promise that using you was never a thought that crossed my mind. You inspired me to create, to write, to use my mind. I should have trusted that you meant the things you said because you never gave me a reason to believe otherwise. I miss your intelligence and the way you attack the world. I just want to ask for your forgiveness for embarrassing you.

By the end of March, I’d started focusing more on the legalization of cannabis. Thanks to Aubrey Destremps, Megan Champlain, and Brandon Perea, my account was finally starting to see more traffic again. I had learned my lesson and realized I had a deeper message I couldn’t afford to have lost in translation because of sexting. Yes, I know a lot of people who follow me do so because they find me or the fact that I’m in prison hot. I like to believe that a lot of them have stayed because I’m more than that.

From April 2nd until today, New Year’s Eve, I have been thrown away to society. Locked behind a steel door with writing as my only outlet. Because of Candice, my sister Joanna, Dom, Laura, Amy, Last Prisoner Project, Freedom Grow Forever, and others who have transcribed and posted my words, sent me letters of encouragement, and generally gave a shit about me, I have turned Prison Daddy into what I really want it to be. What started out as Meredith’s internet prison boyfriend’s account has become a true representation of myself. From short stories about women I’ve been with to a full 572 page novel in less than a year, from in-depth writing about going down on girls to passionate blogs about discovering myself in this country’s darkest chamber, the fact is that it’s all real, it’s all me, and it’s all what I believe. I’m proud of the absolutely gorgeous women I’ve shared experiences with, proud of what I’ve learned about how to bring different women pleasure, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t prouder of writing a novel, prouder of not only surviving but thriving with every chip down. Prison Daddy began as a moment, it’s becoming a monument, and I won’t stop until it’s a movement. Together we can change the world.