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Here you go...
Carl Beech fled to a village in north Sweden in March 2018 and made contact with a 20-year-old man who lived 65 miles away in the closest town. This is his story.
A man wrote to me on a gay dating app called Qruiser and introduced himself as Oscar. He seemed polite and very much like a gentlemen as we were texting with each other. He claimed that he was a doctor from London who had taken early retirement. He didn’t have a lot to do during the days since he had just moved here and wasn’t familiar with the areas.
He was very keen on the idea of spoiling me; he wasn’t like other men in my area, who only want to have casual sex. We set up two dates, but on both occasions I didn’t show up. We didn’t speak again until June when he made an account on Grindr. His name was SugarDaddy.
I had never met someone from the internet before and I had a gut feeling telling me not to go. Could have just been my nerves or the fact that he wouldn’t send any pictures of himself. For all I knew he could be some crazy man trying to kill me.
Since we don’t have that many Englishmen here in my town I figured it must be him. We met that same week at a French café and discussed what we wanted out of this relationship.
I told him that I am too young to settle down in something serious and I just want to have fun, shop and travel. He agreed that we would have a sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, and we agreed that I would go on dinners with him in return for being spoilt rotten.
He said: ‘You are young and fit, you’re the one who should be getting all the nice things to wear, not me, the fat, old bloke.”
I didn’t want anything intimate with him because I’m quite prudish and he was old enough to be my granddad. He proved to me that he could keep up with my shopping and I got anything I wanted. I agreed to go to Stockholm with him, we stayed at Sweden’s most prestigious hotel. He ordered Porsche cars to drive us around and we ate at the best restaurants.
He never made a move on me, except for the occasional casual caress on my back or knee when we’d get a coffee or dinner in between my shopping sprees. I knew he wasn’t to be trusted completely and I always had a sense that he was hiding something. All these little lies and he was just strange. Odd. A lot of small things didn’t seem to add up and you can smell a liar from miles away sometimes.
I remember seeing a picture of kids in his wallet one time and at first it scared me — I thought he was some freaky child molester. He noticed that I had caught a glimpse of the photo and I saw in his eyes that same look a kid gives you when they are caught lying. The next time I took a peep over his shoulder to look in his wallet, the picture was gone and we never spoke of it.
The only things he told me about himself or his life was about his time as accident and emergency doctor, which I still don’t know if is true, and that he had a very close relationship with his mother.
He also told me he vigorously hated his father. The first time he actually got mad was when talking about his father. It was like he couldn’t stop himself when he started and just went on about how he would beat him up if he were to come across him again.
He took me to his house the second week after our first trip to Stockholm. He said: “Don’t panic when you see the property, I’m working on it.”
Then he told me he was planning on starting a bed and breakfast there. I did some snooping one time and found pictures of small lodges that he was planning on putting up in his backyard for guests.
He told me he had ordered a Mustang muscle car which never showed up and that he wanted to pay for an apartment for me. I was not keen on that — it was too much of a commitment for me and I felt like that would let him have control or power over me.
In August, Oscar wasn’t reaching out to me as much and he seemed distant. I thought he had lost interest or felt like I was spending too much of his money since he had alluded to the fact that maybe he should start saving some money for his bed and breakfast.
He claimed he just felt depressed and stressed and wanted to go away. Just “hop on a bus and see where it takes me”. He spent that entire day as we ate dinner and took a walk trying to convince me to promptly hop on a bus with him and just leave.
I told him no, of course. I can’t just commit to going somewhere, anywhere, with him. It was absurd. I felt really uneasy about him now and he gave me such a weird vibe. He then told me that “oh, we should just get the bus down south and have Gothenburg be our final destination”.
I told him that I wasn’t sure and that I had things to do at home. He said that he was leaving the next day, going down south towards Stockholm. And that he would love it if I would accompany him.
I went home and after I had talked to my best friend, who had just moved to Norway, I decided to give Oscar’s crazy roadtrip to disappear with me a try. But only if he agreed to pay for my trip to Norway to see my friend after. And he agreed.
We went to Stockholm by bus. Which was gross. Call me spoiled, but Oscar had told me on our first encounter at that French café that he was just like me — loved the lavish life and comfort over anything. This bus ride was hell. It smelled and I was annoyed. He didn’t seem to care any more. Usually he would always make sure I was smiling from ear to ear. He was on his phone, constantly. Texting with someone who he claimed was an old friend. It was obvious that he was hiding something.
When we arrived in Stockholm he told me: “There will be no shopping. And I think we’ll be heading to Gothenburg tonight.”
Let’s just say we weren’t getting along.
He then suggested we go to a sex shop in central Stockholm which had a basement that played porno films, and had different rooms [in] which men could meet and do whatever they pleased.
This is where I feel a lot of shame and regret. I had to go, right? I mean he was the one who paid for my trip down there, and I didn’t have anywhere to go.
So I agreed that we could go check it out. Nothing more. I felt so dumb and trapped. Just how I didn’t want our relationship to end up.
Oscar told me he had visited this place before one time, before meeting me, but that nobody had shown interest in him.
We got to the place and checked out the sex shop first. He was guilty and nervous to be there, but adamant that we head down to the basement. And so we did.
It was horrible. Dark, red walls that seemed to create a labyrinth with rooms that played old porn movies on VHS tapes, glory holes in the walls and sex swings. One room even had a man bent over, naked, with his face covered by some black latex and his feet bound to the bench, just waiting for someone to do stuff to him.
I walked around this place with my arms crossed and avoiding any eye contact with the men that followed me around. It was clear that they hadn’t expected a young, tall, blonde 20-year-old to be there.
Oscar was trying to play it off like he was fascinated by the sexual freedom of this place and kind of laughing around.
As we were finally leaving, he grabbed my arm, told me to come with him first, he wanted to show me something.
He took me to one of the bigger rooms with a movie playing and touched my private parts. I deflected his hand away from me and just said no and started walking.
He followed, still kind of laughing at the situation like: “Oh how silly, ha-ha, right?”
We got out of there and he was so proud of how all the men were staring at us and said that they must have been so jealous of him for being with someone like me. I just remember being so nauseated and sick of this man.
We got on a bus that evening and arrived at Gothenburg late that night. We checked in to a mediocre hotel and went to bed. After two days in Gothenburg with Oscar we sat at a café and I told him I needed to go to Oslo.
Then the next morning as I woke up, Oscar was in the bed next to me, looking at his photos on his iPad from our previous trips to Stockholm.
I caught a glimpse of a photo that seemed strange. I got closer and asked him: “Is that me?”
He replied: “Oh you’re awake. Em, yeah, I just thought you looked so beautiful and your arm had such a nice arch.”
The photo was of me sleeping. Then I saw that he had other photos of me when I was changing clothes at the Grand Hotel Spa, and changing outfits in my hotel room. I had had enough.
This was the second time I ever saw him mad. His eyes just got dark. And he seemed really cross by the fact that “all of a sudden” he was going to have to pay for my trip.
I argued that I had only come on this roadtrip with him, and agreed on not shopping for a single thing, so that he would pay for my trip to Oslo.
He just brushed it off and said nothing. I made it very clear that I was not going to be happy, talkative, or engage if he wouldn’t keep his end of the deal.
Then for some reason he started to warm up and said: “Fine, you’ll get to go, it’s just that I thought I would only pay for trips and shopping when you are actually with me.”
I was fearful that he would try something that night, that I would have to give something in return, so to speak. I pretended that the sushi we had earlier did not agree with my stomach and spent the majority of that night in the bathroom.
The next morning he took out about 10,000 Swedish krona (£850) for me and we said goodbye.
He joked he didn’t know when he’d be back because he didn’t know where he was heading next. I couldn’t care less to be honest.
After about a week I was back home and he sent me a text asking if we can meet up to talk. But I just told him no. At that point I was so done with him.
I told him we could meet up at the French café where we first met. My intentions were to tell him we were done and never to see each other again. I like things to come full circle.
A few days after that I heard a rumour from a friend that the police were looking for Oscar. Now I understood why he wanted to just “hop on a bus and disappear”. He was running away again.
He didn’t respond to any texts so I figured he had been caught or left the country. Turns out they caught him. Karma is a bitch.
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