Once upon a time there was a boy. He was a blond, big-muscled boy who lived in a small town in the middle of Sweden. The boy’s main interest was naked girls and since he was a shy person with problems getting to know people in real life, he spent most of his time online finding pictures of nude girls and chatting to girls who would agree to undress for him on a webcam. Not an unusual hobby, completely normal.
The boys biggest dream was to find THE girl – a nice girl with a perfect body and a good appetite for sex, create a family with her and maybe even buy a house in the country.
And finally one warm spring evening he found her and fell in love. It was all very sweet and after six months of sparkle and bliss the boy and girl decided to share a home.
This is where the story really begins for only a couple of weeks before they had a chance to try the “happily ever after”-ending of fairytales, there was a twist.
The pretty perfect girl had been hiding a secret and the secret was her own extremely low self-esteem.
Little questions started to pop up in their conversations and the girl investigated the boy’s every move. Looking suspiciously for any one near or far who could be a threat to their perfect couple heaven.
It was all very sad really but the boy thought it was cute. It was a token of her deep true love he thought to himself and smiled at her demands. These were: No more nude pictures; No more online chatting with other girls and; Do not talk to other girls even though they are just colleagues at work.
But it was cute – right?
One day the boy came home from work and found the girl by his computer, she was so engrossed in her actions that she didn’t hear him as he stood behind her admiring the nice shape of her back. The girl was busy going through the history of Explorer and visiting all sites that he had used. She then proceeded to hungrily look through his computer files searching for nude pictures or other incriminating documents. This is when the boy awoke to the startling realisation that it was not cute any more.
Things got worse. Not only had the girl checked all sites that he’d been on but she had also become a member of dating and porn sites that he had used just to see if he was online or if he still was out “hunting”. Oh dear.
Now if this true story had a good ending - because it is a true story - it would have been something like: The girl realises she has a problem and gets professional help, the boy supports her and they lived happily ever after…
But alas, the boy who had been hurt to the core of his heart decided to take a precaution, one could say get an “insurance”:
One warm autumn evening after sharing a bottle of wine the boy lovingly persuaded the girl to be photographed by him in the nude. After the pictures had been taken he told her that if she ever started checking on him again or if she ever lied to him about anything - he would spread the nude pictures of her on the internet.
This is the end so far of the true story about the big-muscled, timid boy, in the small town in the middle of Sweden.
If this exciting story would continue, my guess is that the following dialogue would be:
The girl: “If you spread the pictures on the web then I will trash your beloved car”
The boy: “If you trash my car then I’ll throw acid in your face - scarring you for life”
The girl: “If you throw acid in my face, I will castrate you with a fork!”
The boy: “If you castrate me with a fork then I will bury you alive under the floorboards of the cellar and let you be eaten by rats!”
And then silence.
And the moral of this story would be: Doing an immoral act can justify another immoral act.
Monday, October 30, 2006
Monday, October 16, 2006
Relationships
They say that in a kiss one closes ones eyes out of feelings of great tenderness, a person who doesn’t close his or her eyes isn’t being sincere. But I am now going to admit that in my first kiss I closed my eyes out of extreme terror and nausea. I’m sorry but it is true. There was nothing tender about it, my eyes were shut because I was desperately trying to teleport myself to an entirely different place, the top bunk bed on a ship at stormy sea, inside a dirty prison cell in the middle of a scorching hot desert or even surrounded by crazy men with chainsaws ready to chop my limbs off – I wanted to be anywhere but there on a street being kissed by my first love.
I won’t even go into the details of making out on a bed the first time - but if you can picture a body alternating between being stiff as a dead piece of wood or jumpy like a yo-yo with a strong urge to escape head first from the bed then you’ve sort of got a feeling of what I was like.
Then from this first introduction to relationships I went straight into the next:
Married – ok, I wasn’t really married but things sure felt that way. It sneaked up on us, first buying homely stuff like teas and candles to enjoy together, then changing our style of dress, I became a more “mature”, wearing cardigans, pressed trousers and the colours varied from beige to tan to dark chocolaty brown, he stopped wearing his leather vest and patterned knitted jumpers that mama gave him for Xmas. Wow! How we must have turned each other on in our sober grown up clothes!
In the end we shared a flat and used the kitchen ware and towels his mother had saved for our marriage. She even had my wedding dressed planned and the names of our kids to be!!! I don’t blame him for freaking out and kicking me out and I am grateful he did because by then I had been deeply brainwashed by The Sect of Devout Polish Mothers.
So after being reprogrammed I decided to do something quite the opposite I would be a Mistress!
Hmm… I suppose you think I was heaped with gifts of furs and perfumes, had amazing sex and walked around at home in sexy ravishing lingerie just waiting for “Him” to come after work before going to his little wife…
It wasn’t really like this. First of all I didn’t know I was a mistress until it was too late. Secondly I didn’t get any gifts but he did make three-course meals for me which was nice when he didn’t try to kill me by putting nuts in the food. Then the sex…ahh yes…well I’ll give him one thing – he was the first person to make me feel sexy and beautiful and amazing so I guess the sex was out of this world – that is to say, when he could get IT up…
When he proudly told me I was his mistress I thought “God” would drop a tonne of bricks on me as punishment but that didn’t happen so I found a way to punish the adulterer. By getting a little Fuck Friend to commit adultery with myself - yes, I agree the logic centre of my emotions was slightly off at the time.
My little Fuck Friend, well he wasn’t little...and it was good, extremely amazing, out of this universe, filling in every possible way - I hope you get the picture? But there is line I think where sex only can get better if emotions are involved and emotions wasn’t a good idea.
So I went travelling and tried relationships that I never thought I would try:
“One night stands” – Really?! Sex is fun and great and but it only gets better with practise so what is the point with just one night?
“Mother-son relationship” – Cook for him, wash for him, send him to school (I mean work) and comfort him when he cries cause his penis is too small. No. I’ll never do that again
“Baby-snatcher” – I’ll just give you a memorable quote: “No, not there! Nearly…now what are you doing? Really?! Don’t you know anything about the female anatomy?! Look I’ll show you…”
The “Sharing relationship” – A relationship where he shared his love for me with the love for one or two substances of an intoxicating kind, real life soon turned into a rollercoaster of ups and downs. A declaration of love from him could quickly turn into a monologue of verbal abuse and vice versa. Not nice.
Well after testing a lot of different kinds of relationships I have now turned to the “Long distance relationship” and it is ok: I don’t have to deal with the entrapment of a marriage, I am not his mistress (am nearly sure), the sex is amazing the three weeks a year we have sex which is more than just one night and even though he still is a kid he is wiser than the oldest being on earth. Oh and he has the worlds best mother who cooks and cleans for him.
So I think I’ve got a great thing going, don’t you?
I won’t even go into the details of making out on a bed the first time - but if you can picture a body alternating between being stiff as a dead piece of wood or jumpy like a yo-yo with a strong urge to escape head first from the bed then you’ve sort of got a feeling of what I was like.
Then from this first introduction to relationships I went straight into the next:
Married – ok, I wasn’t really married but things sure felt that way. It sneaked up on us, first buying homely stuff like teas and candles to enjoy together, then changing our style of dress, I became a more “mature”, wearing cardigans, pressed trousers and the colours varied from beige to tan to dark chocolaty brown, he stopped wearing his leather vest and patterned knitted jumpers that mama gave him for Xmas. Wow! How we must have turned each other on in our sober grown up clothes!
In the end we shared a flat and used the kitchen ware and towels his mother had saved for our marriage. She even had my wedding dressed planned and the names of our kids to be!!! I don’t blame him for freaking out and kicking me out and I am grateful he did because by then I had been deeply brainwashed by The Sect of Devout Polish Mothers.
So after being reprogrammed I decided to do something quite the opposite I would be a Mistress!
Hmm… I suppose you think I was heaped with gifts of furs and perfumes, had amazing sex and walked around at home in sexy ravishing lingerie just waiting for “Him” to come after work before going to his little wife…
It wasn’t really like this. First of all I didn’t know I was a mistress until it was too late. Secondly I didn’t get any gifts but he did make three-course meals for me which was nice when he didn’t try to kill me by putting nuts in the food. Then the sex…ahh yes…well I’ll give him one thing – he was the first person to make me feel sexy and beautiful and amazing so I guess the sex was out of this world – that is to say, when he could get IT up…
When he proudly told me I was his mistress I thought “God” would drop a tonne of bricks on me as punishment but that didn’t happen so I found a way to punish the adulterer. By getting a little Fuck Friend to commit adultery with myself - yes, I agree the logic centre of my emotions was slightly off at the time.
My little Fuck Friend, well he wasn’t little...and it was good, extremely amazing, out of this universe, filling in every possible way - I hope you get the picture? But there is line I think where sex only can get better if emotions are involved and emotions wasn’t a good idea.
So I went travelling and tried relationships that I never thought I would try:
“One night stands” – Really?! Sex is fun and great and but it only gets better with practise so what is the point with just one night?
“Mother-son relationship” – Cook for him, wash for him, send him to school (I mean work) and comfort him when he cries cause his penis is too small. No. I’ll never do that again
“Baby-snatcher” – I’ll just give you a memorable quote: “No, not there! Nearly…now what are you doing? Really?! Don’t you know anything about the female anatomy?! Look I’ll show you…”
The “Sharing relationship” – A relationship where he shared his love for me with the love for one or two substances of an intoxicating kind, real life soon turned into a rollercoaster of ups and downs. A declaration of love from him could quickly turn into a monologue of verbal abuse and vice versa. Not nice.
Well after testing a lot of different kinds of relationships I have now turned to the “Long distance relationship” and it is ok: I don’t have to deal with the entrapment of a marriage, I am not his mistress (am nearly sure), the sex is amazing the three weeks a year we have sex which is more than just one night and even though he still is a kid he is wiser than the oldest being on earth. Oh and he has the worlds best mother who cooks and cleans for him.
So I think I’ve got a great thing going, don’t you?
Monday, October 02, 2006
Dreamed Kaleidoscopic Reality
I have a fuzzy feeling that reality is not real anymore; or maybe it is that dreams no longer are dreams?
When I get a quiet moment with myself, images like short cuts of film show up in my head - pictures of me doing something, saying something or interacting with somebody. The problem is I don’t know if I really have done or said these things; or even met the people.
My mind has become haphazard.
At work my colleagues are beginning to whisper and tread softly around me, I’ve had too many “Little Miss Bitch episodes” - sudden outbursts of verbal abuse, just to 5 minutes later become the kindest “Chubby Cherub” and not know a thing about what just happened.
And the amount of times I’ve responded with “I don’t know, I don’t remember…” in a bug-eyed dazed kind of way has become ridiculous.
My friends whisper the names of people I’ve forgotten when at a party and I’ve started to introduce myself by saying: “Hey! I think you seem like a great person but I will not remember your name in 2 seconds even if I repeat it 10 times and please don’t take offence if I see you on the bus tomorrow and don’t say hello - because I won’t remember who you are even supposing we speak for 4 hours tonight”
Twice in the last few months I have not recognized very close friends of mine:
Once I told a friend that her seat in a bar was taken when she got back from the toilette – it took about one minute for the jigsaw piece with her face on it fit with the rest of the puzzle in my head and I recognized her!
Another time this stranger waved to me from across the room, I stared angrily back and thought: ”Who the fuck is he?!” Just moments after, when I looked back to see if the bastard was still waving, reality shifted around me and I saw that it was my best friend’s boyfriend, a person I meet everyday - a guy I actually had been speaking to just 10 minutes before!
A kaleidoscope - that’s what my mind feels like these days - you know one of those tubes with sparkling colourful pieces of glass inside. Each time you twist the tube the pieces reveal a different pattern. It’s a perfect description – time, place and colour shift constantly and there is no way of knowing which the correct pattern of perception is.
Anyway, my bosses have booked a doctors appointment for me now - they are concerned…
I was told it is a specialist in a nice hospital with rooms of pink cushioned walls and floors; and a trendy kind of white jacket for me to wear.
Or was that also a dream?
When I get a quiet moment with myself, images like short cuts of film show up in my head - pictures of me doing something, saying something or interacting with somebody. The problem is I don’t know if I really have done or said these things; or even met the people.
My mind has become haphazard.
At work my colleagues are beginning to whisper and tread softly around me, I’ve had too many “Little Miss Bitch episodes” - sudden outbursts of verbal abuse, just to 5 minutes later become the kindest “Chubby Cherub” and not know a thing about what just happened.
And the amount of times I’ve responded with “I don’t know, I don’t remember…” in a bug-eyed dazed kind of way has become ridiculous.
My friends whisper the names of people I’ve forgotten when at a party and I’ve started to introduce myself by saying: “Hey! I think you seem like a great person but I will not remember your name in 2 seconds even if I repeat it 10 times and please don’t take offence if I see you on the bus tomorrow and don’t say hello - because I won’t remember who you are even supposing we speak for 4 hours tonight”
Twice in the last few months I have not recognized very close friends of mine:
Once I told a friend that her seat in a bar was taken when she got back from the toilette – it took about one minute for the jigsaw piece with her face on it fit with the rest of the puzzle in my head and I recognized her!
Another time this stranger waved to me from across the room, I stared angrily back and thought: ”Who the fuck is he?!” Just moments after, when I looked back to see if the bastard was still waving, reality shifted around me and I saw that it was my best friend’s boyfriend, a person I meet everyday - a guy I actually had been speaking to just 10 minutes before!
A kaleidoscope - that’s what my mind feels like these days - you know one of those tubes with sparkling colourful pieces of glass inside. Each time you twist the tube the pieces reveal a different pattern. It’s a perfect description – time, place and colour shift constantly and there is no way of knowing which the correct pattern of perception is.
Anyway, my bosses have booked a doctors appointment for me now - they are concerned…
I was told it is a specialist in a nice hospital with rooms of pink cushioned walls and floors; and a trendy kind of white jacket for me to wear.
Or was that also a dream?
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