Ruben

Bratislava, June 2014

It's New Years Eve, few seconds to midnight. I am outside the venue, looking for my boyfriend and his friends who are late. I cannot manage to recognize him in the frenzy of the frosty crowd elegantly dressed in black cashmere coats. The countdown is one second to midnight. Suddenly, someone taps on my shoulder. My anxiety deserts me. It must be him! I close my eyes, turn around, take his neck wrapped in a scarf into my hands and passionately kiss him while everybody joyfully screams: "Happy New Year!"
As I step back to wish Jimmy all the best with my heart racing from his hot kiss, I can hear him call my name from my back. I open my eyes and realise I just tongue kissed my colleagues, as straight as they come, boyfriend. I scream:
"Darren! What the fuck, why didn't you stop me?"
"Oh, please, you were so passionate! Happy New Year Ruben!"
"Happy New Year! I am so sorry, I thought you were Jimmy!"
He just laughed as Jimmy reached my shoulder and Karen reached Darren's. We all kissed and cheered, celebrating the arrival of a new beggining.
I then admitted on mistakingly kissind Darren. It made Karen laugh with amusement but I could only see Jimmy throb his jaw and hardly contain his anger. We entered the club with a cold silence between us while Karen couldn't stop making fun of me. Inside, Jimmy dissapeared for a few minutes every now and then.
I wanted so badly to work things out between us. We just moved in together. I admired his ambitions and hard work so very much. On the other hand, I felt like the fashion leader in the couple. He was practically stealing out my wardrobe and I had to buy smaller clothes for him as he was much skinnier than me.
As I was lamentating myself over this in my corner, my drama queen colleague, Gianni, showed up with the most beautiful male model I have ever seen in my life! Trendily bleached mohawk haircut with heavy black eyebrows and amber brown eyes with a hint of melancholy. A powerfully charcterial nose presided his face above full deep purple lips that gave way to a set of perfectly straight white teeth in an apologetic smile. As he shook my hand all the sadness left his face for a lightning of childish happiness and joy. Gianni introduced us:
"Ruben, please, meet Armand, he is new in town, he was sent here by his agency from Paris."
"Pleasure to meet you Armand!"
"Pleased!"
Gianni popped to the bar to get a drink for his new found beauty. I sat with Armand on a bench by the dance floor where Karen was dirty dancing with Darren. I was overwhelmed by Armand's appearance. His youth. His deep minded charms. He slowly turned his head towards me in response to my undecent gaze. He shone his teeth at my eyes.
"You don't remeber me, do you?"
"What do you mean? We just met, I guess, I couldn't forget a face like yours. Am I mistaken?"
"Well, I'm talking five years ago... Paris...Le Maxime's... You were as handsome as ever." at this point, I could actually see a nervous gulp in his throat, "I was a sixteen years old skinny twink. Face full of pimples. My teeth running in all the directions. Messy black hair. Dressed up like the boy from a little provncial town I was. I was there, following my crush Sébastien. He was so fond of you and your model friends. He was looking up to you so much.I was so terribly jealous of you. I craved being you. I dreamt Sébastein would look up to me as he did to you."
It all came back at me in a flash. Sébastien was this fashionnable teenage little rich boy that follwed us to all the parties with pretty boys. Us was me and my friends, all twenty to twentyfive, tall and pretending that the Universe of Paris parties belonged to us. Hoping we  could be aristocracy of the young and beautiful. They used to call us 'The Model Boys'... we were not! We were handsome wannabes, somehow tolerated by the fashion universe. I already worked in retail and my friends worked in design and graphics. I never ever see them since I stopped going out in Paris and eventually  fled Paris for good.
I can remeber Sébastien bringing in this boy every now and then. He would follow him like a puppy, looking so unpretty, dressed up like someone from another world, always nervously laughing and talking about some gay pop icons that I couldn't stand. I always wondered how he could manage to get laid. Now, with his new look, pampered face and a worked out body I would be the first in line to lay at his feet and beg him for a kiss.
"So, how did you turn into this male model perfection?"
"Well, I read this short story by Loic Prigent in one of Sébastien's Vogue. It was about this girl becoming a model. She broke her nose accidentaly and became the next best thing. So, I broke my nose at school. My parents wanted to send me for a reparative surgery but I just asked for braces and a treatment for my terrible skin. I started working out. And voilà, two years later I started turning heads. Bloggers took my pictures at parties. Sébastien presented me to some agents. I got a contract. I became an actual model. I became you!"
"Me? Armand, you look fabulous. You are so much better off being just yourself!"
He looked at me with deep disappointment.
"You really are a prick! You don't get it, do you? I did all of this for you. I was so impatient to meet up with you, for five years. It was building up in me. When I found out you were in London and then Gianni talked about you. I had to come here tonight. I had to show you.I did this for you, for Sébastien. This is all just to please you. To be admitted among yours. To show you I am worthy. I need your recognition, I deserve it!"
"Armand, I couldn't know what to say. This is all so much. I mean you are so terribly, painfully, actually, beautiful and charming...I..."
At that very momet Gianni came back with Jimmy and I stopped talking completely mindblown by what I just heard. Armand downed his drink in few seconds and dragged Gianni back to the bar for another one. I had to pathetically apologise to Jimmy again for kissing Karen's boyfriend Darren.
We agreed he would stop breaking my nuts if I brought him another drink. 

As I walked to the bar I crossed path and looks with this american footballer stud, super self confident, colgate smile, greek scultpture pretentious stud. Taller than me, and I'm already six feet four. I hoped I would see Armand at the bar, but he and Gianni were nowhere to be found. That story was so disturbing I lost focus of everything. As I was walking back to Jimmy one of my feet slipped. I was going in for a major fall if it wasn't for mister hunky promptly grabbing me under my arms and standing me back up without spilling any drinks. I felt under control like in a scenic dance, completely relying on your partner. Anxiously emotional and confidently secure at the same time.
"Wow! Good catch!"
"I would say so, mate!" He gave me a thumbs up with a confident, yet humble smile, his eyes almost completely closed and two sets of dimples appearing on his cheeks. Is this hot guy inc. party or what?
"Well, thank you for that, anyway! I guess I owe you one!"
"No worries, it's all good."
I gave him my drink, he wanted to chin my glass but I had to say:
"Oh, no that's not mine, it's my boyfriends Sapphire Bombay gin tonic."
"Oh, sure" his smile froze but his deep green eyes opened big and the corners of his lips eventually fell down in deception.
"I'd better be walking back, now."
"Sure, no problem. Happy New Year blondie!"
"Happy New Year Mister Hunky Man!"
The last made him laugh in a deep ringing voice. I walked away a bit shaky and very puzzled. Jimmy never turned me on this much. As I was approaching the bench I saw him stand up, look at me hatefully, turn his head in disapproval and walk away fast. First I froze in place, not understanding what just happened. I stood there, alone with a gin tonic in my hand thinking about my next move. Since we started living together we would always fight about bullshit, but the worst thing was Jimmy's raging jealousy. The worst thing, because except that kiss with Darren , I never even thought of cheating on him in a year and a half. But that wouldn't do. He was jealous of every one. My friends, family, coworkers, Hunky guy catching me in the middle of the dancefloor. I downed the drink and went running after him. He was already outside with his coat. I was only wearing a T-shirt in a freaking cold early morning of the first of January.
"What the hell, Jimmy?" it was the last downed drink that gave my angry mood free speech.
"What the hell Jimmy? What the hell Ruben, I would say. That's a good one. Did you see yourself tonight? First you kiss Darren for cake sake, than you hit on an underage frenchie model and then all the little princess theater with the guy on the dancefloor. Just in front of my eyes? How am I supposed to feel? Huh, did you think about that? You are so selfish. Everybody will think I'm somekind of a desperate housewife of yours while you go and flirt with the entire club. Happy New Year, slut!"
"Excuse me? First of all, calm the freak down. Like, seriously, you would have been here on time, Darren would never happen, it was a mistake, I expected you..."
"How could you have mistaken us? Did you see him?"
"As a matter of fact, I haven't, I was expecting you and I closed my eyes before I turned around. It was a stupid mistake, I am really sorry!"
"So you basically could have kissed just about anyone who would have tapped your shoulder! That is just fantastic!"
"I'm sorry Jimmy, I didn't mean to. You know I only want you!"
"Well, you'd better, because I can't stand cheaters!"
"Jimmy, I would really never, never, cheat on you!"
"Oh, really? And what about that frenchie and the fireman? And what have you been doing while I was going out. I had time to take my coat and you're here in a T-shirt like a little victim!"
"Jimmy, I know Armand since he was sixteen, I just didn't recognise him. We were just catching up. He's a baby, he has no interest for me!" at this point I realised Gianni and Armand just appeared in the corner of my eye, joining into the crowd turning their heads and ears towards us. I could hear Armand laugh angrily and run away with Gianni running after him.
"Well, you definetly mean something to him!"
"For cock sake Jimmy, it's a long story, but there is absolutely nothing sexual!I swear! Please, forgive me. And that guy on the dancefloor just saved me from falling on my face so I gave him my drink. It was just a thank you. Please, Jimmy, don't be mad at me. Please, don't leave me behind!" at that point all my anger turned into fear of being left behind, of making him angry to the point where he would give up on me after a year and a half of relationship. I thought my completely natural behaviour gave him actual reasons to be rightfully angry at me. I felt that I have made a mistake and asked him for forgiveness.
"Please Jimmy, don't leave without me!"
"Well, hurry up, we're going to Karen's, she's expecting us."
"I'll be right back!"
I immeditely ran in to get my coat, fully anxious about my love life falling apart. As I put my coat on and turned around to leave, I bumped into Mr Hunkyman's chest.
"So sorry!"
"You again?"
"Yeah, not the nicest guy in the world, I know, keep on falling around you." And off I went to join Jimmy.
"And mostly running away from me!"
"It's not you, it's me!" I yelled as I was hastily walking away, already seeing Jimmy observing me and fearing another scene. He just looked at me and started off to Karen's that was just across the bridge from the club.
He wouldn't talk to me at all the way. Longest ten minutes ever! As we got in, he ran off to the bathroom. When I got into the living room to get another drink, the party was very much in the full. I saw a colleague of his heading towards the bathroom. I used to be jealous of that one as Jimmy  talked about him all the time, but then he told me the guy was straight, so I was like, whatever, let them talk shit about me.
I got a drink and tried to talk to people but I was too angry. Jimmy and his colleague were gone for almost a half an hour when I needed to go to the bathroom. To my surprise the bathroom door was open. To my bigger surprise Jimmy and his colleague were mmaking out in the corridor next to the bathroom.
"Is this your way of taking rvenge? Hitting on your straight colleague? Please, let off of him, I swear I didn't cheat on you!"
"I never said he was straight!"
"Yes you did, cause I was jealous like fuck and you said: 'you don't have to worry...he's straight'"
"I don't remember saying that!"
"Do you top him or bottom?"
"I, we haven't, what the fuck is the question?"
"How long have you been cheating on me?"
"I haven't, I'm not, it's just..."
"How? Long?"
"For the past four moths! Happy?"
"I'm actually sick!" as I said that, I threw up in their direction. They started screaming in disgust, insult me, no apoligies, just more insults. I would normally kneel and clean, but they didn't deserve me to be even polite.
"You're a piece of shit Jimmy, by the end of tomorrow, you're gone from my flat or I just throw all your things out of the window!"
"You're not serious, where should I go?"
"You should have thought of that when you decided to screw someone else!"
"He actaully screws me, I'm the bottom."
"I thought you were only top!"
"Well, you suck at being a top, so I don't want to bottom for you!"
"You piece of turd, you are so bad at blow jobs that you actually make me last longer, and I'm premature..."
I ran out of the appartment and tried to run down the stairs, totally angry and completely drunk. After on flight of stairs my ankle gave in and I ended up rolling down the second flight and down to Mr Hunky's feet.
He grabbed me and carried me to an appartment that was just one floor down from Karen's. He put me into a bed while I was silently sobbing. He took my shoes off and examined me.
"I'm not abusing you, I'm actually a nurse, I'm trying to see if you hurt yourself!"
"You actually can abuse me, I'm single again!"
"I'm gonna pass, maybe in a few moths, but right now you need to heal  in so many ways!"
He brought me water and a pill, turned off the light and let me sleep while he want back to the party.

I must have slept heavily as I woke up on someone's chest. Still drunk from the day before, I just hugged the body I assumed Jimmy's, although I could quickly feel the muscle mass more important than usual. I looked up and saw the sculptural perfection of Armand's face looking sadly down at me. I woke up, in all possible ways. Remembered where and why I was.
"How did you get here?"
"Gianni hooked up with Mr Muscle and I came along, he told me you broke up with your boyfriend, so I wanted to make sure you don't wake up alone!"
"That's really sweet of you!"
"It's normal, I look up to you, still."
"I'm sorry about my reaction earlier, I should have told you straight away how flattered I am that a gorgeous guy, and person like you, looks up to me. You are stunning, you did way better than me! I think I should look up to you now!"
"No need. I'm not that pretentious." he smiled and looked away "What happened with your boyfriend?"
"I found out he's been cheating on me!"
"That sucks!"
"Well, now I'm free for you, if you're interested. We're already in bed together."
"Ehm, no hard feelings, Ruben, but, I have boyfriend that I am very fond of, in Paris."
"That's okay"
But it wasn't okay.I couldn't hold it in anymore, I broke into ugly crying and loud sobs. Armand just hugged me and stroked my back until I fell asleep again.

When I woke up again it was already the evening and I was alone. In all possible ways.

Nocturnal elucubrations

Paris, January 2012

Early morning of 30th January, late night of 29th. In my bed. Insomniac lamentations.

He wants me to take care of myself, my dreams. He wants me to evolve...But he has no understanding of the fact that I have no will to evolve without him...Of course, I can. I have friends, I have desires...

He says he doesn't know what he wants, that he has no interests. He is fully immersed in his theater project on Claudel. I'm on a stand-by. My emotions, my need of affection and sex are on stand-by, almost turned off by this lack of interest. I'm mad at him, but in the end I am mad at myself.

My dreams are empty. My desires are absent. What is the point when he is not there? Naturally, I have ways to have fun. I have things to keep me busy. But I am fed up. I'm asking myself what can I do to awaken his passion.

Enough, playing catch me if you can, constantly swapping roles.

The useless phrase : " Run from me I will follow! Follow me I will run away!" would never before have rang so much in my ears and my soul.

I'm dreaming of running into him around the corner, at a bar, a cafe or in a club. Start all over again. Rediscover each other as two strangers. Gone the knowledge we have of each other that is so heavy on me right now.


I spent my evening stalking his blog to discover more. No use. I know him far too well, but why can't I manage to listen to him and to hear him?

The painfull question comes in again: Did I end up by constraining him too hard, just like the others? Are we doomed? Did I crush all the good there was between us by my constant doubts? Why couldn't I hear him on time? Why so much hate towards what my heart understands? Why stop my heart from receiving  what it needs and what it's getting offered honnestly  from a young and soft soul that I  brushed away by my own disbelief? What a terrible question: Why? And how to amend it?

A year ago, I was thinking of him. I was unwillingly leaving him for his own good. Nothing good came out of it. He suffered more that reasonably. So did I.

Stop wanting to change him into the one I want to have by my side and understand that it's him who I want to discover. Learn to understand, to finally see that it is him whom I want. The way he is and the way I love him already.

Because, when I think of our song "Ton grain de beauté" it suddenly comes up from my playlist and stucks on replay to remind me that I only want him.

But I want to learn to stop desiring to posses him.

The sleep is winning over me but the want is keeping me up. I am alone, but what is worse than loneliness is the fact that there is the one someone fourty minutes away from you that you cannot see because he is fed up with you. Crossing the desert on your own is not the Hell. The Hell is facing someone and being unable to see who they are, as if an invisible wall of your own hallucinations kept you from seeing him there and you end up believeng an unrealistic mirage. Is it me who haven't seen him?

I am ashamed and my fear takes over. The fear of the sentence: "It's death!" I couldn't bring death to life, but could I heal a dying flower, a dying puppy or a fragile baby from my dreams? Are we sentenced? Do we have to start all over again?

Elsewhere. With someone else.It is quite possible. But in wich degree would it be respectful of that person who made so much effort for us?

I love you to the bits. Yes, I could die because I have known you. I could die because I was loving you. I could easily give up on waking up tomorrow even though I still have so many dreams in my life, dreams that are only waiting for you to wake up from your sleepless nights...

Please, help. I only can help myself... I'm affraid I am gonna find a solution. I am affraid to give myself to nothing because I still don't trust myself. My real nature takes over. So I wait. I consume myself from the inside waiting for a sign.

As a fallen icon would say: "Hit me baby one more time!" I promise, I will be fully present this time.

Giorgio

Roma, January 2012

Here I am. Thirty five years old. My 'husband's' hand laying on my warm shoulder. Our three years old son sleeping in the next room. I am surrounded by my friends and am having a lovely evening.

Him, he is seated across the room from me. I just met him few moments ago. He is looking at me. He smiles at me. As soon as he opens his mouth tears spring in my eyes. His voice is a balm. His words are a melody. His gestures are a silent ballet. His clothes are a drape that render modesty to his sensuality.

He must be around twenty years old. There is a spark in his eye and he makes me infinitely sad with joy. The joy of meeting him. The sadness of not being able to belong to him right here, right now.

A few lectures about soulmates come up in my mind.

We come from different continents. We are at a meeting place two thirds away from his country and one third from mine.  Nonetheless, I feel him more familiar than my husband who is softly caressing my arm. I feel even closer to him than to my best friend who is sitting somewhere in the room.

At a certain point we discover our common passion for Russian. We abandon the others as we pursue a conversation incomprehensible to all the others as there is no Russian model at the party tonight...

My best friend makes me understand I'm stepping out of the line. My husband, completely under my spell, doesn't mind at all. Blood starts hammering in my temples as soon as he sat face to me and it won't stop beating. My cheeks are burning.

I stand up to open the window for some air. I bend down to pick up a paper drifted to the floor. As I stand back up, my head hits against the corner of the window frame. It used to happen to me quite often when I was a kid, but never with this strength.

I fell flat to the ground and only woke up at the hospital in my husband's arms. He is somewhere in the waiting room. I feel his gaze totally conscious of his part of responsibility for my loss of concentration  that lead to this accident...

Three stitches and a part of my head shaved. 

Sven : A letter to my 30 years old self.

Paris, November 2011

Dear Sven!

Today you are torturing yourself. Your heart aches and you are not sure if it is your heart or your ego. You love Jacob, he's beautiful, intelligent, educated and so very young.  He has his future ahead of him, lined up career as an actor and he genuinely loves you. Not that you have ever told each other. But you both know it. You need to work your way through to take interest in others, you need to learn to listen to them and be more in the real than in your own imagination and judgment.

You have been dreaming about going to Italy for the past five years. But you are unable to take a step towards autonomy. That is the reason that makes you doubt the fact that you spend time on thinking about Jacob just to postpone your departure.

You don't want to read and you don't mind your own interests anymore. Your body is giving out signals that there is time for you to change your habits.  Your heart bleeds and your brain is boiling. You are looking for a way to stop the pain and the best solution would be to split with Jacob. But will we ever see each other again? Will I still love him? Will he still love me? Is it all important?

It is awful not giving people value, or at least pretending not to.

Today, you cannot imagine your life without him, without his body, without his smile, without the little fights. The other day you questioned yourself and realized you don't need to meet any other guy... But you need to discover your own self. To see who you are and understand your own worth.

I would like to know where you are now, at thirty. Still in Paris? In Paris again? Somewhere in Italy or in another country? Finally in New York? Or did you give in to Canada or return to Slovakia? And your friends? Who is next to you? What happened to Iris? Your sisters, do they have any children? Your father, is he with a woman that makes him happy?

And your childhood friends Silvia, Julia, Petra, Zuzana, do you ever get to see them?

And, what do you do for living? Always in the shoe business? How many languages do you speak? Did you forget any? Are you happy? Rich? Poor? Satisfied?

And Jacob in all that? Do you get his news? Is he next to you? Did you completely forget him? And this counts for both Jacobs in your life.

Do you remember being in the hall of Jehova's Witnesses imagining you would come out of the bathroom , suddenly being twenty four years old and on the way to be independent, it's not that way now...how about now that you're thirty?

Can you prioritize? Did you get a better understanding of what is important in life? Did you understand your little mistakes? Do you hurt less the people that love you? Did you learn to listen and to listen to yourself?

You need to know that I love you anyway and anyhow. You are very extraordinary and certainly unique, I would have missed you if I haven't met you. But you are equal to others. Everybody is equal. You aren't worth any more or any less than the others.

I hope you learned to be humble and take distance with the situations. I hope you react in a less emotive and more thoughtful manner. I hope you don't hurt people around you and that you don't bend yourself too much for the others. Also, I hope you quit that bad habit of being a victim.

And physically, we are quite the hot stuff at twenty five, but the skin is not that fresh anymore and you lack muscles. Did you work on your longevity by working out? Are you bold and chubby? You should be terribly sexy at your mature age, but are we still premature in bed? I think the fact that you can't give Jacob a long moment of pleasure bothers you.  And your mental block that makes you go weak when he offers himself to you...

Come on, be a man! Yes, I want you to be a man, the train to becoming a woman has left the station without you and it would have been a very bumpy ride. Be yourself. Be the one you were born before this World filled you with images of what you should be. Be virile and assume your life choices.

I only hope you regret the least things and choices possible.

Always remember what Eugene from Montaigne Market told you:

"You are a positive person!"

Sven

Paris, October 2009

It's Wednesday night. The weather is rainy. Wednesday is the best night to go out in Paris. Only a privileged few are out in private clubs. I started dating my boyfriend, Casanova, a week and a half ago. He was the first guy my boyfriend of a year and a half dated after me a year ago. Sex with Casanova is amazing. He has a great talent for it and is a professional dancer which gives me a Morning wood just at the thought of it.

Tonight, he and my best friend are meeting some friends of theirs from Berlin. I am not invited. I feel offended and bored as hell, browsing everybody's Facebook statuses.

Suddenly, Paul, a virtual friend of mine and a socialite journalist, calls me up for a Paco Rabanne party at the V.I.P Room. I am dressed up and on my way under five minutes. He is there, waiting for me. Sweet as a pie and quite taller than me (I'm already hitting my head when entering the tube!). He's surrounded by really cool people and has some very hot straight guy friends. I'm drunk after all the Champagne from the open bar. We drank so much, they ran out of Champagne...so we keep on drinking Vodka.

A DJ looking like Lady Bunny plays the freshly out 'Million Dollar' by Whitney Houston. I feel so happy, Whitney is back on track, better than ever. She's making it work after all she has been through with Bobbi.

As we smoke a lot, I keep on spread opening some guys snap button shirt to reveal his large hairy chest. He is straight and I have no interest in him, I just love the fact his shirt opens all the way down. It's quite a dramatic gesture. A moment later, Paul and I are kissing, it's nice, but I feel naughty as I actually have a boyfriend. But he left me alone on a Wednesday night, so why would I be faithful?

I want to go to my QG, the Curio Parlor on the left bank of the river. We grab a cab straight off the club with some of Paul's friends. As we walk out of the cab I spot Casanova and my best friend. My brain goes from zero to 'I'm gonna kill every motherfucking last one of you' in a split second. Drunk, my brain forgets Pauls presence and decides to obviously ignore Casanova with a total disdain. The fact that they didn't tell me they were coming here just makes me mad. All my friends are here. Everybody knows I end up here three to five nights a week. I'm going mental on my best friend who just looks at me like a schoolgirl caught smoking behind the garages by the headmaster.

Paul is long gone and I have barely noticed. I storm out of the club not saying bye to anyone. On my way home I insult Casanova in Slovak over text messages. Everything blurrs up in my mind. I'm on the phone with him. I'm proud and angry, he is proud and hurt. He cannot get over the insults. He's angry because I ignored him when I arrived. Doesn't understand why I felt offended. He defends my best friend for not being obliged to tell me where she goes. I insult absolutely everyone, but mostly her. I can suddenly hear her cry on the other end of the line. I feel the worst I ever had. I feel betrayed, but I feel like a monster. There was no need for me to insult them.

Casanova gives me a last gift before we break the conversation and our short lived relationship. He tells me to listen to Léo Ferré. And I end up finding his song, Vingt ans by Catherine Sauvage, it touches my soul and is going to lead me through many years of emotions.

John

London, November 2010

Those few drops of a perfumed alcohol. On the lobe, on the pulse, under the jawline, in the pit of the collarbone, on the wrists and one well situated just above the sex. Thus, ready to face the external world  with strength I put on my Pink Panther T-shirt and the sweatpants I only ever wore at home. Drunken with the Sandal wood in my perfume I roll up in the sweetness of the almond scent coming from my clean bed sheets. I stretch out my extremities. I drink a herbal tea. I munch on some sesame biscuits. Toilet break. I turn on my mac book, my only contact with the external world in the past month. Overwhelmed with the external world. Offended by the noisy brutality of the outside. I lock myself in as it is not necessary for me to go out. First week I was signed out for illness. Second week I realized I can handle my work from home. I have enough food to last and no need to go to the office.

Marilyn

Paris, December 2010

I am blonde. Tonight, I am 'the blonde'. Tight mini-dress. Sky-scraping skinny heels. My best friend has been ordering bottles of Champagne for me for the past four hours. I feel no more pain in my feet, I don't feel the cold wind itching the skin of my bare legs. I vapidly laugh without any reason. Which actually makes me laugh even more.

My friend grades the room. Too old for me, too skinny and straight for him. An old sleazy one is heading our way. He's trying to offer me a drink. I'm speechless. I laugh again. Should I feel insulted or flattered? I'm happy somebody is showing interest in me. But, frankly, I am offended at the idea of being mistaken for a nurse from a retirement house. I grab the arm of the first passer by. Tall, dark, clean shaved, made to measure suit. He checks out my cleavage and my hips molded in those few bands of elastic lurex. He smirks and says:

"Darling, does the gentleman wish to join us?"
"I have no idea, but, he's kinda cute, isn't he?" I say lasciviously.
"Right at the moment, we were going for a tour in my Porsche! Maybe next time, sport..."

I smile, not getting anything out of what is happening. The elderly man still wants to mix up with us but the Tall man grabs a magnum of Champagne in one hand and my waist in the other. I am completely under his control.

His Carrera is waiting for us in front of the club. I forgot my friend inside. I forgot the simple existence of anything else right now. I'm sitting in a sports car with a bottle of Veuve Cliquot in my lap and a manly hand on my knee. I forgot my fur coat. I forgot my pouch.

He looks at me from the corner of his eye with satisfaction as he turns on the powerful engine. I wet the dress directly as I must wear it without any underwear. The spike heels push into the soft carpet as he suddenly accelerates. I hate this virile need to show his power by driving 60mph on a 10 meter segment in a jammed Parisian traffic.

I pop the cork out the window and I just drink and laugh. He puts on some romantic music.

His apartment is huge and overviews the Eiffel Tower. He comes to me impatiently.

Just this morning I was crying in my bed looking at my grayish blond hair and my skinny body after three months of unplanned fasting. My best friend came over to pick me up, he turned my hair platinum blonde, put me into a golden Herve Leger by Max Azria dress, stuck a pair of Sergio Rossi heels on my feet, covered my back with a Pucci fur and slipped a Margiela pouch in my hand. I could have never been able to afford those clothes with my editor's assistant job. Fortunately my friend is a press agent at a big agency.There are some perks to his job.

I'm standing naked even before he starts to kiss me. I can smell his entire day coming up from his sweat. The skin on his body is much less attractive than his face. He takes his own clothes off. I mechanically caress his back as he attempts to passionately embrace me. I'm asking myself what am I doing here, what is it going to end up like.

He's clumsy and only pretends to be patient. I follow him to his bed. He strokes my skin a bit, kisses me... My body gives in to him without asking me for a consent. My body wants him. He puts on a condom and puts me over the top of it. He lasts five minutes, breaks included. He has a nice Bang&Olufsen alarm clock. He throbs his jaw forward and rolls his eyes over as he cums. I feel like rolling to the side in case he feels like hitting me. He falls down to his elbows. Smiling with self satisfaction. He kisses me with his wet mouth on my front, I close down like a shell. My excitation is all gone.

Once he falls asleep I put on my dress, take his phone to call my friend. He comes to pick me up by cab with the fur and the pouch.

Tomorrow, as I will wake up, I will cry. Because in three moths of self deprivation I didn't loose anything, I didn't miss anything. My dreams vanished in one night, all my hopes are shattered. I have no others. Prince Charming is just a premature egoistical Shrek ogre..and I just got my period..on the seat of the cab, as I didn't realize it was coming. I just destroyed a dress worth over 2000 Euros.