Watch out for Jihed Masmoudi

When I was a minor, I became friends with Jihed Masmoudi who was 24 years old. I eventually developed feelings for him, and because I trusted him, I didn’t expect what happened next.

He invited me to his house, and we had sexual intercourse. After that, everything changed. He began manipulating me and blackmailing me into sleeping with him again and again. He threatened to expose me and tell everyone what we had done if I refused.

I was scared. I felt trapped. I didn’t feel like I had a way out, so I kept sleeping with him even though I didn’t want to.

What made everything even more painful was that he was dating my best friend at the time. While he was her boyfriend, he was blackmailing me and continuing to sleep with me. I carried an enormous amount of guilt because I felt like I was part of him cheating on someone I loved and cared about.

But I couldn’t tell her. I was terrified that he would expose me. I was a minor, carrying something I didn’t know how to process, and I felt ashamed and responsible for something I hadn’t freely chosen.

The experience left me deeply traumatized, and for a long time, I carried the shame and guilt as though they belonged to me.

Today, I understand the situation differently. I was a minor. He was 24. He was the adult, and he used manipulation, threats, and blackmail to keep me in a situation I didn’t want to be in. His choices were his responsibility. His decision to manipulate me was his responsibility. His decision to cheat on my best friend was his responsibility.

I was a child trying to survive a situation I didn’t know how to escape.

We were never particularly close. We hung out a few times, but I never considered him a close friend.

During the few times we spent together, I personally noticed that he had a lot of minor girls in his social circle. I saw that these girls knew him and that some of them would text or communicate with him. What surprised me was the number of minor girls who seemed to have a connection with an adult man.

As a guy myself, I found that particularly concerning. I already noticed certain red flags in his behavior, so I deliberately kept our friendship very superficial. I didn’t get close to him, and I maintained my distance.

Later, I began hearing stories from girls who described themselves as victims of his behavior. I want to make a distinction between what I personally witnessed and what I heard from others: I personally witnessed that he was an adult who had numerous minor girls in his social circle and that they communicated with him. I did not personally witness him abusing or harming any of them. The accounts about alleged victims were things I heard from the girls themselves.

Eventually, I stopped talking to him completely. We don’t have any contact anymore. I couldn’t know everything that was happening behind those interactions, but what I personally observed raised serious concerns for me.

When I was underage, I met Jihed Masmoudi at a place I don’t want to name. There were many other underage girls around, and he was someone who was very well known. He was charming, confident, and, as a kid, I had a crush on him.

One day, I decided to message him. I was young and didn’t really know what I was doing. At first, our conversations were completely normal. For about two days, we talked normally, and I was excited because I had a crush on him. It felt good to have his attention and to be able to talk to someone I admired.

Then, after those two days, the nature of the conversation suddenly changed. He started sexting with me and asked me for nude pictures.

I didn’t know how to respond, I didn’t know what to do, and I didn’t understand how serious the situation was at the time. I stopped texting him because I was frightened by what was happening.

Now that I am an adult, I look back at that experience very differently. I understand that I was a child and that he was an adult. What happened wasn’t an innocent interaction between two people who liked each other. An adult initiating sexual communication and requesting nude images from a minor is deeply inappropriate, and depending on the applicable law, can constitute a criminal offense.

At the time, I was simply a kid with a crush who didn’t know what to do. I was not prepared for an adult to turn that innocent attention into something sexual.

He manipulated me into having sex with him when I was a minor, promised he would marry me, and physically abused me — he hit me. Those chapters of my life didn’t just end; they damaged so many of the chapters that came after. He left wounds that affected my future, and I will never forget what he did to me. I hope he lives with the consequences of his actions.

After I left him, he continued spreading rumors and telling lies about me, judging my choices and my new life. Even years later, I still meet people who tell me he talks about me.

He never stopped trying to rewrite the story to make himself look innocent.

I dated him during a period when I was vulnerable, and he took advantage of that vulnerability. He manipulated me, lied to me, cheated on me, and treated me badly. He abused me emotionally and physically. He hit me. He knew I was vulnerable, and according to people who later spoke to me, he was aware of what he was doing.

He cheated on me multiple times. One of the women he cheated with is now my friend.

What affected me most was the way he would manipulate situations and then use my reactions against me. He would provoke me, disturb my peace, push me emotionally, and then take the reaction he created and present it to other people as evidence that I was “crazy.” He would create the situation and then point at my reaction and say, “See? I told you she was crazy.” He wanted people to see my reaction without seeing what happened before it.

He repeatedly told people that I was crazy and tried to discredit me. This was particularly cruel because I was genuinely sick. I had symptoms, I had seen a doctor, and I was receiving treatment. He knew this. Yet he convinced people that I was lying about my health and that my symptoms were fabricated. He made people question something I was genuinely experiencing and being medically treated for.

Some of those people eventually contacted me after I removed him from my life and told me what he had been saying.

He also verbally encouraged me to commit suicide at a time when I was already suicidal. He knew how vulnerable I was, yet he used that vulnerability against me. His behavior affected my health, my peace, and my life.

After the breakup, he continued spreading lies about me and judging me. He repeatedly body-shamed me, especially about my weight. He would tell people, “Look at her, she gained weight,” and make degrading comments. What he ignored was that my medication had affected my weight. He knew I was receiving treatment, yet he still chose to use my body and my health as something to ridicule.

He also tried to turn people against me by telling different versions of the story to different people. He portrayed himself as the victim and portrayed me as the problem while hiding the behavior that led to my reactions. He wanted people to believe that I was the unstable or evil one, while he controlled the narrative behind the scenes.

But here is the part he doesn’t know: the friends he is still seeing and talking to are also on good terms with me. They are still his friends, and they see him for who he is. He does not know that we remain on good terms, that we meet and talk, or that they recognize his behavior and manipulation. The people he believes are loyal only to him have seen him as he really is.

Some of them have admitted to me that they don’t actually support everything he does or believes. They told me that sometimes they simply tell him what he wants to hear because they know he wants validation and does not want to hear anything that challenges his version of events. They explicitly told me that they were not supporting him — they were telling him what he wanted to hear. They have independently told me what they witnessed and what he said about me. He has no idea that we remain in contact, that we see each other, or that we can compare what he tells each of us. If he found out, it would likely come as a shock to him.

He tried to convince everyone that I was the problem. Meanwhile, people around him have been able to see his behavior for themselves.

He can manipulate a conversation, but he cannot permanently control what people see with their own eyes.

I met this guy completely randomly, and somehow we ended up becoming friends. He never mentioned having a girlfriend—not once. Then, surprisingly, he tried to kiss me without my consent, and I obviously didn’t engage with it. A few days later, I found out that he actually had a girlfriend.

That’s when I started seeing him very differently and realized there was a lot more behind the nice-guy act.

Girls, please, I’m telling you this because I actually knew him and was close to him. Don’t fall for the acting, the charm, or the image he tries to create. I’ve seen a side of him that most people don’t see, and I genuinely think you should be careful around him.

He is manipulative, arrogant, and deeply resistant to taking responsibility for his behavior. He constantly tries to portray himself as intelligent and superior to others, while repeatedly mistreating women and acting with harmful intentions. From my experience with him, whenever he sees an opportunity to hurt someone—whether physically or emotionally—he is willing to take it. I tried more than once to talk to him about his behavior and encouraged him to change, but he showed a strong resistance to accountability or genuine change. Whenever I confronted him about the things he was doing wrong, instead of reflecting on his actions, he would dismiss the consequences and say things like, “I’ll get away with it—my dad will make sure I don’t face legal consequences.” To me, that says a lot about his attitude toward responsibility and the people he hurts.

I used to observe him a lot, especially the way he treated the people closest to him, and over time, I started noticing a pattern. He would speak about his friends’ wives with absolutely no respect, calling them names like “whores” or “hoes.” He seemed to resent them because he believed they had taken his friends away from him. To me, that showed a lot of insecurity and resentment.

What really stood out to me was that this wasn’t how he talked about strangers—it was how he spoke about the partners of people he supposedly considered his closest friends. The way someone talks about the people around them says a lot about how they view and respect others. And honestly, watching him over time, I came to feel that he had very little genuine respect for even the people closest to him.

He entered my life at a time when I was vulnerable. I had been diagnosed with an illness, and he saw an opportunity to position himself as someone who understood what I was going through. He told me he knew people with the same illness and offered me support. At first, I genuinely thought he was a good person. Eventually, we started dating.

Then I discovered that he had been cheating on his girlfriend. His ex is actually my friend now.

That was when I started looking at everything differently. I had grown up around someone whose behavior taught me to recognize manipulation, contradictions, and attempts to control the narrative. I started noticing the same patterns in him. I didn’t automatically believe his version of events. When he told me that all his exes had somehow formed an alliance against him, I questioned it. He always seemed to have a story in which he was the innocent one and everyone else was the problem.

I am a feminist, and I pay attention to how people talk about women, relationships, and responsibility. I don’t take someone’s words at face value simply because they say them confidently. I analyze what they say, what they leave out, and whether their actions match their story.

But I also need to be honest about my own behavior. I didn’t simply walk away from him. I retaliated. I lied to him, manipulated him, took advantage of his feelings, and deliberately made him believe things about our future that I didn’t genuinely intend. I humiliated him and turned him into a joke among my friends. I treated him as though I had power over him, and I deliberately used that power against him.

There were moments when I was cruel. I degraded him, tormented him, and treated him like my personal servant. I even crossed boundaries that I now recognize were abusive in their own right.

At the time, I told myself I was getting revenge—not only for myself, but for the women I believed he had mistreated before me. I saw myself as someone finally making him experience the powerlessness that I believed he had inflicted on other women.

But revenge doesn’t magically make cruelty right.

I can tell the truth about what he did to me and what I believe he did to other women without pretending that everything I did in response was justified. Both things can be true: I believe he manipulated people and repeatedly presented himself as the victim, and I also became cruel toward him.

That is part of my story too.

This is not my story. It’s something I heard years ago from two different girls about a guy who was supposedly his friend. I tried to find the man involved so I could hear his side of the story, but I couldn’t find him on social media.

According to what I was told, this guy had attempted suicide and survived. He was in a coma for three days. When he woke up and started physically recovering, he wanted to spend time with Jihed Masmoudi who was supposedly his friend.

But instead of showing him support or compassion after everything he had just been through, he blamed him. Rather than being there for someone who had just survived a suicide attempt, he responded with cruelty and insensitivity.

That story stayed with me because it showed me another side of his character. Someone can say whatever they want about themselves, but the way they treat a vulnerable person—especially someone who is supposed to be their friend—can tell you a lot about them.

I wasn’t there, so I can’t claim to know every detail of what happened. I’m telling the story exactly for what it is: something I heard from two different people years ago and something I tried, unsuccessfully, to verify by finding the man involved myself.

Hello please share my story. We were minors, and he was already an adult.

There were three of us, and every now and then, he had a way of making each of us feel special. At the time, we didn’t know that he was doing the same thing with the others.

One day, the three of us opened up to each other and started comparing what had happened. That’s when we realized that he had kissed all three of us and had shown romantic interest in each of us separately.

Later, we also heard an allegation from someone in our group that he had sexually assaulted another girl. She was a minor too, and he was an adult.

Looking back, what stands out to me isn’t just that he was showing interest in multiple girls. It was the fact that we were children and he was an adult. We were in a completely different position of power and understanding, and that context matters.

I also want to share my story. I’m not better than you girls, and I’m not here to pretend that I handled everything perfectly. He was cruel, manipulative, rude, and honestly, he annoyed and tormented me a lot. What he did to me was not okay.

But what bothered me the most was what happened after I left. He continued talking about me—about what I liked, what I didn’t like, and things about my life—and he told people lies about me. Even years later, people still come to me and tell me things he has said about me.

And honestly, that’s the part I find the strangest. I moved on with my life. I got married. I live a completely different life, far away from him and completely disconnected from him and his circle. I have nothing to do with him anymore.

Yet even now, while I’m married and living my own life, I still hear that he hasn’t stopped talking about me. I’ve moved on, but apparently, I’m still a topic in his life.