This morning, I’ve been listening to Landslide by Fleetwood Mac while enjoying some crunchy sourdough bread with butter and coffee. Just sitting here, thinking, and feeling a sense of melancholy.
To those of you who have been more involved with me on a daily basis, you probably already know what I’m about to say.
For the rest of you—I’ve made the decision to end my FinDom journey.
This may come as a surprise to you. Honestly, it’s a surprise to me, too.
The past two weeks have been full of highs and lows with my partner, and at the center of many of those conversations has been the amount of time and energy I’ve invested in my “RicanBro” persona.
That’s not to say I haven’t enjoyed it. I have. For a long time, I felt like I was able to sustain my relationship alongside it quite well.
Except for one thing: I was distracted.
That distraction ultimately became necessary for me to recognize the full impact FinDom has had on my life over the past two years.
At first, it was sexy, fun, and energetic. I discovered something I was good at and genuinely enjoyed. Even just a few days ago, I still viewed it as something that brought me a lot of enjoyment.
But at the same time, I was spending hours every day checking X and responding to messages, whether I was at home or at work. I was still getting my work done. I was still spending time with my family. I was still present.
But I wasn’t present to the capacity I know I could have been without FinDom constantly occupying part of my attention.
The impact was most noticeable on my days off.
When my partner wasn’t around, I could spend hours gooning and masturbating, abandoning things I wanted to accomplish around our home. I wouldn’t call people I’d been meaning to call. A beautiful day could pass while I sat inside the house.
And when I finally did go outside after a four-hour FinDom and porn session, I’d sometimes have a headache and feel almost hungover. The screen time alone would get to me.
I don’t blame FinDom for this cycle.
It really started with porn.
Porn is something I’ve always enjoyed, especially when I was single. When my partner and I first started dating, we were long-distance, so porn had a place in my life during the months when we physically couldn’t be together.
But when we finally moved in together, the porn didn’t stop.
Then I found FinDom.
And here we are, two years later.
Choosing My Relationship
I’ve always vowed that I would never let anything get in the way of my relationship with my partner. I love him dearly, and I would do anything for him.
He knew about my FinDom persona, but there were details I didn’t share with him: how much time I was actually spending on it, how many other gay men I was communicating with, and how much money I was making from it.
Deep down, I knew that if he understood the full extent of it, he would be disappointed.
Eventually, I had to be honest about those things.
And that honesty created a crater in our relationship.
At first, he tried to be okay with it. He even briefly dabbled in FinDom himself. But that experience showed him just how involved someone has to be in these dynamics in order to be successful.
Once he understood that this was the level of involvement I’d had for the past two years, he was taken aback.
I feel ashamed that I hid the extent of it from him.
But I’m also relieved that everything finally came into the open, because I want a successful relationship. I want my partner to trust me. And I want to be able to say that there isn’t a part of my life I’m intentionally keeping behind a curtain because I’m afraid of how he might feel about it.
So now we start rebuilding those broken pieces of trust.
The Part I’ll Miss
It’s not easy to pull away from something I enjoyed so much.
Even harder is pulling away from the experiences and relationships I enjoyed that had very little to do with kink or money.
At the end of the day, I got to know many gay men like myself—people with their own lives, their own struggles, and their own desire to become better versions of themselves.
There were moments when I bonded with many of you over things much deeper than our dynamics: the grief of losing a parent, struggles with addiction, depression and anxiety, relationship problems, and everything else life throws at us.
Those conversations were real to me.
The ride was fun, kinky, exhilarating, and beautiful.
And I’ll miss it.
What Happens to RicanBro?
I don’t know what’s next for this persona—or if there even is a next chapter.
This may be the final one.
But something tells me I still want to write. I still want to get to know other gay men, learn from the things we struggle with, and find ways we can help each other.
That was one part of RicanBro that really came into focus for me over the past couple of months, and it was genuinely satisfying.
Maybe there’s something there.
Maybe there isn’t.
For now, I’m not trying to figure that out.
Closing Things Down
This morning, I officially deactivated my RicanBro X account.
I performed my final cashouts from Throne, PayPal, and Cash App. I removed subs’ credit cards and payment methods from Apple Pay, PayPal, and anywhere else they had been stored.
You don’t have to worry about me retaining your payment details or personal information. I’ve removed everything from my phone and accounts that I can.
My email is still up and running, and for now, this website will remain online as well.
If you want to keep in touch in a non-FinDom way—or you simply want to say hi—I wouldn’t mind hearing from you.
Thank you to everyone who read my posts, listened to my Spaces, shared pieces of their lives with me, made me laugh, challenged me, entertained me, and became part of this strange little world I built over the past two years.
I don’t regret the chapter.
But I know it’s time to close it.
Thanks for reading.
I hope to see you on the other side.
Leave a Reply