December 08, 2003

I'd Like My Shake To Go, Please

Spit or swallow.

The topic that is the subject of many jokes.

'What's the difference between like or love?' A: 'Spit or swallow.'

'What's the ideal woman?' A: 'One that's three feet tall and swallows with a flat head to rest your beer on.'

And so on.

Personally, I've never seen the big deal with the issue. I know that women feel very strongly one way or another about this topic, as evidenced by a drunken chick night I had once in which all the lady folk got pissed and we started talking about our oral techniques. The table was pretty clear on their preferences:

2 women wanted warning before he met the finish line, so they could back up and let the guy go off like an unchecked fire hose.

2 women would let him race his pony to the finish line, only to eject him discreetly in a cup at that very second when he is done (aka the second the man is so sensitive that removing the pony from the warm little stable is likely to cleave him in half).

1 woman wouldn't even do it, full stop. Her mouth was her sacred zone, and in return she signed off rights to having him do so muff diving. (personal note: what an idiot. Never, never sign off that right!)

And myself and another woman were swallowers. And neither of us saw the big deal with it.

I don't perform my patented oral technique on every guy, and I only bring the ones I really care about to conclusion, for the others it's just a quick jiffy lube job. I may not have a problem with swallowing, but I see the act of completion as a rather personal act. So before you get the impression that I am lining up and sucking off a line of men, mouth opened not unlike a carp, then think again. I can count the number of men I have done this to, and the number is not overwhelming.

But let there be some ground rules. I have some, which I have learned out of experience:

- Don't go down on him if he won't go down on you. In fact, if he won't muff dive, ladies, what the hell are you still doing with him?
- If he makes you brush your teeth directly after or won't kiss you, then lose him. Chances are he expects a kiss after he's been flossing his teeth on you, if it's ok for him, it's ok for you.
- No teeth, unless he asks for it. Some guys love it, some guys have to be pried off the ceiling.
- If it doesn't taste good, don't do it again. Guys seem to taste a bit different from guy to guy. Hopefully, you have a tasty one.
- He should try it, just once. You know, the old absorb and the pour. This is tricky one, and not something that I have ever done, actually. But I can see the attraction, and the erotic quality of it. I think the ratio of men willing to give this one a go is minor.

Most women aren't desperate to do this. We're not sitting around thinking 'Hmmm'¦my gosh how I would like a protein shake right now. Maybe I can get him to drop trou to satisfy my craving.' Just like I'm sure you guys don't really sit around thinking 'Hmmm'¦I would really like a tuna sandwich right now, which I could smear all over my chin after nearly suffocating myself with it.'

We do it because you guys' like it. Because it firmly puts us in control, and makes you beholden to us. It is at that moment, once we have swallowed, that we could likely get you to sign us blank checks. To agree to let us re-do the living room. To agree that you could never ever ever find another lover ever as good as us. And we just love to look up while administering said favor and see the expression of pure worship on your face. I mean, you can't do it yourself. So you're awed that we can.

You can try to make it fun, too. If you don't feel like swallowing, have a contest to see how far he can shoot (and that can be impressive, really!). I once asked a guy to see if he could finish up on my salad, but he replied that he didn't really find lettuce that appealing, so if it's ok he would just settle for my mouth, thanks.

Good answer.

I still don't see the big deal with it, but then again I haven't done it with every partner. What I can say is this-if it makes him weak in the knees, beholden to you, and willing to hold you up as a sex goddess, then why not do it?


-H

PS-some updates on my personal life tomorrow.

PPS-read my favorite Don's interview here.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 09:21 AM | Comments (38) | Add Comment
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December 06, 2003

Just Thinking

I'm sitting in front of the computer, which is situated in front of a window on the top floor of my house. Outside it is snowing and -2 degrees. The Heather that I planted in the windowbox outside the window is frozen stiff, interlaced with white puffy snowflakes that are clinging determinedly to the branches.

At least I have taken a shower, although I promptly put my same pajamas on. And yesterday I did eat, driven as I was by the evil PMS fairy that demanded all things salty head my way. Then I consumed almost a whole bottle of red wine, started watching "Say Anything", and went up to bed, where I masturbated in bed under the amber glow of a fire, and allowed myself in my orgasmed state to be lulled off to shifty Kafka-dream filled sleep, which found me waking up early this morning in a pool of sweat. So I played with myself again to ease my mind, but found it didn't really work.

And now I sit here, and am just thinking.

My life is more up in the air now than ever before. I can honestly say that this year has been the most horrible, the most liberating, filled with self-discovery and yet filled with despair. I never want another year like this again, and yet hope that if I ever get stuck in a rut in life I do have another one.

I have had much advice here, and almost all of it good. These are the factors that I am trying to reconstruct my life around now:

- I have been unemployed for going on three weeks.
- I get full pay until May 9.
- I have a permanent Swedish work permit, and am up for Swedish citizenship in February or March.
- I have a state-approved and funded private psychotherapist, who for the first time in my life lets me feel that someone can fix me.
- There are no jobs in Sweden. And about 30,000 ex-telecom people looking for one.
- I have had a few hits on possible jobs in the UK, but it means I have to move away from my home, Partner Unit, and my therapist. Not to mention I have to get them to be flexible about the work permit until my Swedish citizenship comes through.
- I love my Partner Unit, but I am not in love with him. There is a distinction. And I don't want children with him, although I very much want children. I do feel terrible for hurting him, and I don't want to hurt him anymore, but truth time is coming. I know it. And I will be ready for it when it is here.
- I'm in love with Mr. Y but his situation is muddied, as is his mind about whether or not he truly wants me. His Partner Unit is breaking it off but he is making it clear that it is her choice, not his. And he's thinking of moving back to Sweden just as it looks like I may be moving to England, where he lives. This hurts like mad, and I wish he could just say: I choose you, Helen. I want you. Let's make a go of life, ok?

And so I think of these things and do only what I can. Apply for more jobs. Drink coffee. Watch the snowflakes drift down. Take silent steps in my head to test how it feels up there. Avoid my heart, since I know how badly it feels, seeing as it is curled up in a fetal position just beneath my breastbone, begging to be left alone.

I'm just thinking. For the first time in my life, I'm not rushing into anything.
I'm just thinking.

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 09:22 AM | Comments (24) | Add Comment
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December 05, 2003

Vote For Me!

I have been nominated as "Best Female Authored Blog" here. If you love me, give me a vote!

And while there, vote for our lovelies Anger Management for Best Humor Blog, Ilyka Damen for Best Newcomer!

-H.

UPDATE: I never do these, really, but LeeAnn submit this on her site-"What John Cusack Character Are You?" She either knows me really well and knew I needed a pick me up or wanted to buy my vote. Whatever, I love her for it, since as you know I will sell my soul for the chance to fuck the brains out of John Cusack (after he has been dosed with anti-biotics for drilling Britney that is). And, for your information, I am:


Which John Cusack Are You?

Not sure about the adorable bit, but I like the sound of the rest.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 06:13 PM | Comments (20) | Add Comment
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Love Versus Software

OK, my love life continues to be very confusing, but let's step away from that and focus on Amsterdam.

No, not the space cake. Actually, I didn't try any of that since my unemployed status could lead to drug testing before a job is offered, and the excuse "My life sucks a clown's ass so I needed to get high on some dodgy brownies" will not fly. (Weird but true fact: I have never been high. Always wanted to give it a try, but never had the chance. I would especially like to try Ecstasy. Hell, if I can masturbate five times in one weekend, what could I do on that stuff? Take on the Swedish Navy?)

Anyway. I went to dinner with my American friend Karen, her Dutch boyfriend, and about 5 other Dutch friends of theirs. Karen, Bernadette (the only other woman) and I all wound up sitting together at one end of the table, throwing down what they call "white beers" (which I believe are "wheat beers". I don't actually know if this is true, and if beer can be made of wheat, but I assume where there's a will, there's a way).

Now, Karen's boyfriend and his friends all work in IT. Bernadette works in insurance, and Karen works in training. I turned to Bernadette out of interest and asked her how much I would be worth, in terms of life insurance.

Bern: OK, mid-thirties, HIV-positive, we would be looking at-
Me: What? I'm not HIV-positive.
Bern: OK, but say you were.
Me: But I'm not. Not that I have any problem with anyone who is. I just personally am not. You include that in your quotes? I thought infection rates were down.
Bern: They are. It's just a quote, Helen. OK, mid-thirties, HIV-negative-
Me: I'm 29.
Bern: Well, mid-thirties.
Me: What? HELLO! I'm 29!
Bern: We won't insure you.

Hmm. Ok. Either cause I'm a picky bitch or not mid-thirties and HIV positive, I guess.

As the evening progressed, it was clear the differences between men and women. As more beer was applied to the situation, the commonalities between the men camp and the women camp disappeared. Where once we went from bonding over the BBC's "Office" tv show, "Six Feet Under", and our mutual hatred for Hugh Grant (although all of the women folk agreed secretly that yes, we would fuck him), we immediately went from women topics versus men topics.

Aka love vs. software.

We focused on identifying the little gestures that can be defined as love (a tip from my blog), marriage, and romance.

They focused on the best upgrade packages they have used, how to go about finding a real first edition Pac-Man video game, and the glory that is X-Box.

Us:

Bern: When my husband was overseas for a year on business, I missed him terribly. When he came back, he threw himself into my arms and proposed on the spot. We married the next month, and I know not that I cannot be without him.
Karen and I nodding, misty-eyed: That's love.

Them:

Boy 1: Then when I installed the package, I found I could go through the other command system and view hidden messages of downloaded porn.
Boy 2 and 3: That's good software.

Us:

Karen: When I walked into the house, ready for a fight because I was so grumpy and tired, I found he had cooked dinner, cleaned the whole house, and he got me a glass of wine and a massage and then he provided me with oral pleasure.
Bern and I: That's love.

Them:

Boy 2: I noticed the frightening dearth of entertaining low-programmed games. Remember the days of pong? So simple, and yet so elegant in its design.
Boy 1 and 3: That's good gaming.

Us:

Me: And I look at the gifts he has given me, and I think that some of the most special ones were the different ones. He bought me an expensive pair of sneakers once since he wanted my feet to be warm and safe and protected. It seems strange to think of a guy buying you expensive sneakers, but he honestly cared.
Bern and Karen: That's love. Totally.

Them:

Boy 3: And I found that this site can provide you with software that you can download directly to the phone, and upgrade the system to remove the network branding options.
Boy 1 and 2: That's good phone-age.

And so on.

And as the beers continued, we got more and more sappy, and then naturally transitioned to the sex part, which is where we got the men's attention again.

Of course.

-H.

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December 04, 2003

For Their Sakes'

The great and amazing fuckwittage in my personal life rages on. Partner Unit came home from China last night, and although we didn't discuss what needs to be discussed, he could tell that something was not quite right. We followed our usual role: Helen on the couch in fits of weirdness, flighty and talking about all manner of completely irrelevant conversation topics, and Partner Unit warily regarding me as a subject whose dosage needs to be upped.

I did hear from Mr. Y, and he let me know that should/if/when we both become single, he wants very much to be with me. We also talked at length yesterday, and the breakup of his current relationship is very, vey hard on him (isn't it hard on everyone? Break-ups suck.), perhaps even more so as he has sprogs in the picture. I don't know how to advise him, I don't know any words of comfort. He is in for a rough weekend, and in return I am in for a rough weekend, although he doesn't realize it.

In the past, my way of dealing with my breakups is to get the fuck out of Dodge, break off contact and move to a new place, but I recognize that's not possible with kids in the picture. All that one can hope for then is that the split can be as civil as possible, in order to save anyone from further distress.

Mr. Y, Dear Mate, and Best Friend are all in relationships that they admit they stay in for the children. All of them are fathers, and all of them are no longer in love with their Partner Units, but instead maintain that razor-sharp pendulum of sometimes hating their lives with a blinding and fiery passion, and sometimes being relieved that they are able to live in the same household as their kids and living in a relatively comfortable friendship.

Now, I am not a parent. Or I am actually, but my little ones are gone. But I can recognize the awesome and frightening sway that children have over a life. It is at once a horrifying burden and a bond which I deeply envy. I can see that parenthood is at once exhiliarating and exhausting.

But I have a different perspective on all of this, since I was a kid once (although not according to my therapist, but there you have it). You see, my parents were together and then seperated three times. The two times they got back together, they did it for the children, and they were clear on that. So my parents lived in that pendulum state for many years. Swing..love you...Swing...hate you...Swing...love you...Swing...hate you.

Here's a fact: kids know when their parents are unhappy. And you know what else? Although kids may not understand it when they're younger, as they get older they realize that the parents are together for their sakes'. And the guilt is catastrophic. When you realize that your very existence is the reason why two people subject themselves to living a life they don't want and only experience for your comfort, all you can think are things along the completely unhealthy line of "I'm not worth this. I have to be good to be worth this. How can I make them happy?"

I'm not trying to have an Oprah moment here. I am only telling you like it is.

So when I hear people tell me they are staying together for the sake of their children, my first thought is: Do your children a favor. Don't. And when people tell me that the single most important person in their lives are their children, I thnk: Shouldn't it be your partner? And when I hear people tell me that they will never divorce, ever, since it would hurt the kids, I think: Living in an unhappy household will hurt them worse. They will only see how love shouldn't be, instead of happiness in two seperate households.

I'm not all torn up about my parent's divorce. When they finally split for good, I was thankful. They are now both happily married to other people, and yes, it was a bumpy road for the step-parents for a while. And my parents are only now friends (all it took was for me to try to kill myself. Had I known that, I would've tried ages ago). It sucked and it was so hard, but at the end of the very long day, they were much happier.

When those men in my lives (Mr. Y, Dear Mate, and Best Friend) tell me that if they split up they will lose their children, I think: Why? Do you want to be around? Do you love them? Will you bust your ass to make sure you see them as often as possible? If any of those are "yesses", then you won't lose them. They are the fathers. They are the ones that can never be replaced. My father wasn't around when I was a child, but that was his choice. If you choose to be there, you always can be, geography be damned.

Sometimes the whole issue makes me even more scared about children. I think, should I not have the partner of choice, my real desire is to be single and adopt a baby on my own. Then again, maybe that's due to fear of being tied to another person in the type of bond that can never be severed, a life-long bond that you will have no matter how much you start hating the other person.

I just need to find that person.

-H.

UPDATE: Sorry, forgot to mention-have had three hits from my masses of CVs sent out, and one interview that was scheduled for last week moved to tomorrow. One other job sounds rather promising, and the third I am short-listed for I am sure I won't get. Two of the jobs are in England, one in Sweden/England. I am keeping my fingers crossed-have been unemployed for two weeks now. Thanks, Amy T.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 09:54 AM | Comments (16) | Add Comment
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December 02, 2003

Back to the Beginning

I'm back in Stockholm now, and will be back to blogging in full swing tomorrow (including commenting on my site and on others). I have had a most amazing week-sometimes it has been incredible and ephemeral. Sometimes, the best I could manage was to sit in the shower and cry, and hope that no one heard me.

I am currently removing everything from the hard drive of my PC, which I must return to Company x tomorrow. Truthfully, it had moved with me so many times that I thought it had disappeared from their inventory, but it appears not to be the case. It hurts badly, since my laptop has been my constant companion, my partner, and my life for many years now. We have been lovers-how often have I spent long nights and early mornings making love with my fingers on the sallow grey keyboard? How many tears have we had together? How many fights have we had?

Now we are breaking up, and like any break-up, I am not handling it well.

I now have to go buy a new laptop, at a time when making capital investments is less than ideal.

But such is my life.

Full details on my trip to London/Amsterdam forthcoming, including the bits about Mr. Y that I know everyone is keen to know about. What I can tell you, is the beginning. That, since we all need a good start to a new life, eh?

Wednesday last week I walked around the city of Winchester in England. The friend I was staying with had an unavoidable meeting in the morning, so I had to entertain myself for the morning. The day was dark and the rain poured down in sheets. I had decided to get a haircut in the duration, but noticed that no shops opened until ten.

I walked in the rain, feeling more lost and alone than ever before. Life had changed so much. My job was gone, my relationship crumbling, and everything I had ever known about myself was up for grabs. I realized at that moment that I had everything in my handbag (passport, wallet, camera, phone) that I could ever need to just escape. I could disappear from the life I knew-the complications, the sadness, the confusion-and just start over again. I reached into it and ran my fingers over the cover of the passport, feeling the bumpy blue grain and the gold embossing. I could disappear without a trace, and no one could ever reach me again.

It was then that I looked around me and saw the beautiful cathedral in Winchester, and decided a visit was in order.

I can't resist cathedrals and churches. Whenever I am around one, I have to go in and light two candles-one for my grandfather, and one for Kim. I may have strayed far from the Catholic path, and I may be a complete stranger to God, but some part of me longs to believe in the superstition associated with lighting a candle-that you light it for a person or a prayer, and when it goes out, the person has heard or God has heard you. So I have lit candles the world over for my Grandfather, and for Kim.

Strange, since I am no longer in the God choir, but instead try to rock to my own tune.

I walked into the chapel, soaking wet. I hadn't even bothered with an umbrella or raincoat, since I was hoping for the catharsis of rain to soak me and find its way into me. A kind, portly woman met me at the door. The cathedral had not yet opened, she explained. I just looked back at her, and something in my face had her open the doors for me.

The cathedral was amazing. It was perfection. The ceilings were so high that I couldn't even fathom the height. Stained glass was on every window. It was not so much as a cathedral, more as a devotion to religion. The organist was practising that morning, so from every angle was the sumptuous sounds of music pouring at me from every beam, racing from the buttresses and pouring its way directly into my chest, hammering me from all angles in explosions of melody. Walking in to the 1000 year old cathedral, you have to step on tombs of people below the floor. Husbands and wives. Soldiers. Clergy. Children. Some 40 years ago, some 400 years ago.

Walking further, I found the bank of candles I sought. Only one was there, lit and glowing. Extracting some pound coins, I dropped a few into the donation slot, and took four candles. Four, this time, instead of my two. And without feeling the least little bit of silliness or hypocrisy, I lit them, and spoke aloud inside my head. Four individual sayings for four candles.

"Grandpa, wherever you are, I love you and need you and want you here with me."

"Kim...fuck you. Fuck you for dying and fuck you for not coming back for me. I love you. I miss you."

"For anyone listening, please help me. I need any help I can get. I am on the verge of being lost."

"For anyone listening, please help Mr. Y. His life is coming apart just as mine is, and he needs to know how strong he is to make it through this."

And I turned on my heel and started to exit, stopping briefly to sit on a pew and just marvel at the music one last time. As I got closer to the exit, I ran into the portly woman again, who smiled at me and reached out a comforting arm.

"God sure loves you," she said, smiling even broader.

Not having the heart to tell her I didn't believe in God, I jsut smiled back. "Why is that?" I asked, waiting for the song and dance about Christianity.

"Because your candles are already blown out. Bless you, my dear." she said, and bustled away.

It appears I could not disappear without a trace. And so it is that I will keep trying to rebuild my life, and this time I need to do it right.

And tomorrow....Mr. Y.

-H.

PS-if you love me, feel free to nominate me here.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 08:27 PM | Comments (15) | Add Comment
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December 01, 2003

Blogging in Platinum

By the way, here's me blogging in platinum.

PLEASE NOTE - NOT WORK SAFE!!!!

Blogging Nekkid

Maybe one day I will be brave enough to post the other one he took...

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 10:44 PM | Comments (27) | Add Comment
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A Quick One

Sorry for the silence, but I had no internet access in Amsterdam all weekend.

I am now back in London for one night, back to Stockholm tomorrow afternoon. I promise to post a long one tomorrow night (European time) and give the full update. I am alive and well, and love you guys for being concerned about me. I am concerned about me, too.

In the meantime, all I can say is this-things are looking darker than ever.

That, and how do I erase (without chance of recall) all files from a laptop with Windows 2000 (hopefully, without incurring any cost)?

-H.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 05:17 PM | Comments (20) | Add Comment
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