vineri, 7 iunie 2013

Old school june mornin' glittter shit

For some of us is all or nothing.

Uhm... some of us get this energy - when we get started -  we DO get started, that is, we go beyond every human limit.  No sleep, no adjusting, we're high till... well...we're not.

Women, that is.

I tend to believe most men are not this way. Fuck'em! :)

Is it a gender thing? Is it genetics? Is it just me being a freak on a personal level? It could be.
Years and experience have thought me this much- accept  some parts of you that are absolutely glamorous, try to be sensible and change whatever makes you unhappy if possible, love yourself floating around bits of golden ashes, smille and  shit on dusty wind poetry.

It might mean nothing for some,  it might mean  sweet coated shit on the long run for others.

It depends how you define shit, of course- people remembering you after years of meeting them. Still yearning for the passion and energy but kind of...looking back at it regretfully with a decision taken on a regular daily basis that doesn't make a difference for any of the parts involved.

Then you smile.Not interested anymore, pal.

 We 're talking about words versus facts. Memories and moments lost in time. Live to tell stories to your children, if ever.

Went to dance tonight. Men and women still seemed to seduce one another, old school way.

On a bar crawl, trying perhaps 7-8  clubs in a raw in one night in all seemed dusty on a gender agenda.

It kinda of made me happy with mixed feelings about it.

Mixed feelings cuz somehow men and women were good boys and good girls  dancing around each other, more or less showing off an innuendo of political correctness attributes.

I should be happy about it-and I am. Yet, my culture showed me differently over time.

Someone used to tell me  the other days I get too easily confused.  I do, yes. It stirs things inside cuz you see, we're the gulping middle generation-we gotta keep up with the old school and gotta adapt to the new shit. It's a radio inside our brains, changing bits, baby.

We gotta make our own way  to a different base on a wave lenght every fucking day. It's called adapting to the tune that society plays for us. Not to mention our personal..well...golden coated shit-sorry for the leitmotif of the mornin', eh.

Who cares, really? Well, I kinda do.

Go to the cinema, eat apples, buy new spices, kiss with no reason, listen to the song below on a Sunday morning :)

miercuri, 13 martie 2013

Dating Bucharest

I tend to think about cities as lovers. Some dull, some passionate, some rough, some kind and sweet, some dark and noisy, some sensual and refined.

Berlin was a woman lover- she loved me so tenderly, she kissed me all over, she made me swear I'd go back to her. I left her behind, I lied to her, I am so so ashamed about it, I will rotten in hell!

Two years ago when I left Bucharest, I was disgusted with it- my lover was so bored of me, constantly showing me misery and troubles, no tender gesture, no tulips in my way,  no chocolate on my pillow in the mornings. Nada.

I left him for another one, then another one, then another one. The last one was dark and gloomy, had authority issues, was toxic and he treated me like a whore. He slammed my head to the bricks of the street many times, he locked me up in the house, he shameless abused me, over and over.

I left him and I was so amazed to see my old and first love taking me back in his arms and showing me love again, like never before.

And yes, it happened, I fell in love with Bucharest again. With his streets, his people, his buses, his construction sites, his few bikes, his dark corners, his vitality, his dynamic, his dust and his tremendous beautiful energy spread around me which makes me feel loved, loved, loved and spoilt.

We're not official together yet, he's asking me to move in again but I want to take it slowly. So we're more now. I visit him sometimes, like a shy lover, go and explore him, laugh, enjoy his beautiful touches, I let him make love to me on and on and every time it feels like sweet heaven. He's  so cute and tender, I have to confess that sometimes, you know,  I feel embarrassed by all his attempts to impress me- flowers all over just for me, his friends smiling to me everywhere, he brings beautiful people in my way, he sends buses especially for me.

 It feels amazing but it creates this pressure that perhaps I'm not worth it, that I might disappoint him but I relax and all the fear drops away like an old worthless luggage.

I am in love,YES!  and it feels amazing. My lover shows me all the sweetness and fluffiness back, he's not afraid, he's open and sunny and relaxed and holds me beautifully rather than grasping at me.

I'm full, full of love <3

vineri, 22 februarie 2013

About my worst sex ever and disfunctionality

It's been a while. Back to Romania gender dynamic, different but somehow it feels more healthy. I had enough Islam.

I want to talk about something recently lived-that is the worst sexual partner I have  ever had. In a way, I am writing it for him. He is a dear friend and although I have tried to talk to him face to face about it, I was emotional and harsh so I guess now things are more clear.

As a bit of a background in our dynamic-we know each other for what he used to call- a whole learning cycle:)-that is more than 4 years and constantly teased each other and also kept somehow close, even when we were not together because of the distance. He's an outstanding guy, funny and smart, creative and highly fresh. A great company also, someone who makes me laugh all the time, which is a big +.

One time it happened. Although I smelt the issue on the spot, I gave it another try just to make sure we're relaxed and mature enough and in the best conditions of being in such an experience together.

I was not so surprised when the pattern happened again. I must admit that I've never had such a type of sex. And hope never to have again.I doubt he can be different with other women because somehow there are some impulses, gestures and tendencies that you either have or not. Such as, to touch, to feel, to smell, to enjoy the other's be human- again, I dont expect performance but lack of humanity, this was something new even for me. I had what was called- a denigrating fuck. In the end I realized what i was- a blow-up doll:).

Don't get me wrong, I love role plays and consensual kinky stuff but this wasn't the case, there was no consensus about anything.

I won't give you the details what I can say is that there was something sick in it and I felt it very clearly. It was schizoid sex. Have you ever met or been with someone in an activity and  felt the other one was totally in his/her own bubble? Someone that sees nothing but their own intentions and drive? Someone that is completely not present, that is ego and result oriented?

If something kills my libido, that is a result oriented person in bed, doing every step just to get there and then leaving the scene as it ended, someone completely lacking sensuality and sometimes even consideration.

This guy had no instinct rather than mating. Procreational one and that's all. That is-finding a hole. So boring that it makes my skin bump.So inconsiderate for human nature that it took me back to Darwinism and the apes.

Actually, it scared me a lot. I have seen a person who sees a body as a plastic, I have seen a person I care  completely unable of human connection, completely self-absorbed and completely dysfunctional in this type of communication. It almost made me cry, it felt so so sad.

Someone who had no will to touch skin, to smell skin, to touch brests, to touch pussy, not even to the point of the eternal masculine and sexy approach that most partners take-that is to check how wet-translate"prepared" is their partner for them. Not even that, no spark of  drive. Just an urge.

It took me some time to shake off the feeling of being used, the feeling of -there's something wrong with my body- and all the negative by-products that come with being treated like a blow-up doll and the frighting idea that such men do exist out there and lots of women just tolerate such sexual behaviour on them.

I have asked him and he said no one complained. Now, I am one of that person who thinks that a good sexual report is based on the functional dynamic between the partners. True. Nevertheless, in this case, there was a clear sign that if he acted like that with me, someone I knew he appreciated/respected, how could he turn into a human- caressing, kissing and touching partner on a one night stand?

Unless some women love to be treated as plastic dolls. Unfortunately.

Life's tricky, sex is magic, drink water, eat apples:)

marți, 13 noiembrie 2012

In the darkness(Istanbul poetry)

It doesnt have to be about the dark sides of  Istanbul. I just make it this way.

Coconut and milk all over my face.

Dating in Istanbul is quite easy. You just go out there.

Everything is fucked up even for a girl who looks very much turkish.

Things come and go like a rollercoster. It is dynamic. More than anything.

I might loose myself here so please help me

I found methods of expressing myself but none are acceptable here.

I drink milk tonight.


Istanbul is just another way of dancing around the darkness of our own lives.

The city is a GHOST.

It comes and it goes .It beautifully unfolds.

Wide streets and dark corners. Like  a maze that can never be touched by humans.

Between two continenets lays our beds- your head is on my shoulder.

Get inside me. Please.

The skin around our neks would sound like a piano in the darkness.

Then go away.

Far far away from me.

Like you've never been there.

duminică, 26 august 2012

Long time in Hell

Some time passed. Too much if you ask me but life wanted me to geekly smash my head to my inside crawling walls so I said bring it in.

Dates?Not quite, if you don't count geeky stuff I've taken at times too seriously just because I am attracted by discovering the world and the people from distance, through the filters of my own mind, through my broken edgy projections, sickly.

I had some encounters but no one seemed to catch my attention but the past seems to hunt me down constantly- two important men from past show up just to confess how marked they are by the encounter we had some years ago(many).
 I was marked back then also but only by the way they vanished as jerks. I am listening to them now with the fascination of why would someone in owe for a person would go away as if thretened by death?

Some answers have been given  but it doesn't have anything to do with me but with their own fears and demons. Chapters closed, I am unable to go back and comfort them now. They have made their choices at those times, I made mine to accept it and move on.

But that's not what I wanted to talk about. A ghost from the present is pressing some buttons that sometime make me smirk but other time make me shut down and reset. Pretty fun to realize I still got some issues to let go.

Being single feels fresh again, this energy of being totally in commitment with your own self and enjoy your own moves, body, choices and all is making me float.

I realized how confused is everyone, the difference is that some don't care. Some guy told me that he's mostly fucking a girl, hanging out but not much, they are not fuckbuddies , maybe dating but not quite -a friend told me he's got a friend with benefits but tried not to make it seem like that so occasionally date but not really. What the fuck is that? It's simply hilarious. This fear of...labels freaks everyone out. Like the moment you put the label on, you're doomed so everyone tries to snick out and in on the lowest possible profile. I find it totally unprofitable-the guys might get a chunk of a pussy but do they for real? How enjoyable can a confused fuck be?How passionate can a confused pussy be? I guess it doesn't matter.

I personally like squeaky clean agreements. Give it to me, straight on my face-let's leave games and scenarios for the bedroom. I'm not a labels fan but I'm much less of a fan of the people who are scared of them, because afterall if your mind is truly free, no social or cultural label won't shape your intentions and behaviour towards someone -in the end.Unless you only care about smelling some pussy from time to time. A pretty good reason for most men, for sure!:)

It's true, sometimes things move slow, in their own way, in their own time, people don't know what they want, they are oscillating but even that can be firmly stated and made clear, no?

If there's something that completely turns me off that's confusion-control-freak or not, I can even let go all of my control if the person reaches out and firmly asks for it.
When will men who either romantically or sexually or both try to snick in,  get that if they state clear options based on their preferences doesn't mean being locked down in a prison while the ladyguardian of it slowly swallows....the key? :P

slackerbitch! yeah!

joi, 28 iunie 2012

Men as a X-mas pigs stubber

Coming back from Turkey to a even more fucked-up Romania didn't help alot-the politics telenovelas and the general social anger not to mention the ugly dudes(we're on a dating blog afterall^^) make me crawl back to a peacefull Turkey where you can manage much better the gender roles(it's a paradox, huh?) and enjoy life in a totally different way. But we shall see how it goes.

Talking about stuff, romanian men and people generally seem to be lacking any kind of sensitivity towards the other human beings in any way. It feels like being in a nordic country minus the good economy and social development. You can drop on the street or get out naked, no one seems to care-not that I'd mind, it;s a good opportunity to try on my new Eve's suit-just saying...After Turkey anyway when even an ankle-okay-maybe not ankle-but shoulders in the spring, small cleavage in the summer was a reason of joy for other men, this reality seems a bit...weird now. You can say I miss being looked at as to a piece of meeeat!

On a serious note, I miss the smilling faces, the positives attitudes and the warm people of Turkey. Romania is cold as ice and mean as a a X-mas pigs stubber

Mai multe despre rolurile de gen in Turcia

 Am decis sa scriu o serie de articole despre observatiile mele acolo in legatura cu aspecte ce vizeaza rolurile sociale al femeilor in/din Turcia

Primul suna cam asa:

În orasul Sakarya aflat la 150 km sud de Istanbul este o cu totul altă lume-o lume cu reguli și o disciplină cu adevărat nouă pentru mine.
Ca femeie, nu plătești nicăieri în vreun restaurant și, câteodată habar nu ai cine și cât a plătit pentru tine. Nu ți se spune decât că femeile nu plătesc, asta e cultura aici și dacă nu accepți, te transformi într-un adevărat călău al  întreagii civilizații islamice și jignesti profound și iremediabil întreaga floare masculină musulmană. Oricum, orice fel de împotrivire-de la discuție amicală la scandal feminist pe tema asta este tratată la fel-cu plictisită indiferență- oamenii de aici nu doar că nu înțeleg despre ce vorbești dar nici nu au chef să audă. În fond, de ce-ar avea?...
Ca femeie, nu plătești nici autobuzul-asta dacă, evident,  călătoresti cu un bărbat. El are întotdeauna banii pregătiți la intrare, până ajungi să arunci un ochi înauntru să vezi dacă este vreun loc liber, treaba a fost deja încheiată. Într-o seara,  un prieten a oprit un dolmuș(un fel de mini taxi unde se înghesuie cam 8 oameni) pentru a spune șoferului în turcă unde trebuia să ajung-după ce-a făcut asta,  am constatat cu uimire că bagă mâna-n buzunar și plătește pentru mine. Eram deja înghesuită înăuntru, el afară, pe partea șoferului, până să vociferez ceva, mașina a și pornit. M-am simțit ca un copil prost, asta deja depășise limita a ceea ce s-ar putea chema( în vreun fel?!) –curtoazie-Niciodată un bărbat nu va accepta să ia banii înapoi, tot ce poți face pentru a te revanșa față de prietenii turci este să le cumperi alte lucruri, cu alte ocazii și să te rogi să le accepte sau să le ascunzi pe undeva prin casa sau mașina lor și să le trimiți un sms dupa aceea să le povestești ce-ai îndrăznit să faci.

Ca femeie europeană în Turcia, unii profesori universitari iți spun în fața clasei că, dacă ești feministă, niciun bărbat nu te va lua de nevastă(ca și cum e de la sine înțeles că asta e menirea ta pe lume, nu?) și ești sfătuită cu înflăcărare să accepți primul bărbat care  va fi dispus să te ia.
Ca femeie, ți se spune că la 27 de ani ești prea bătrână să studiezi și cu siguranță e ceva în neregulă (cu tine, evident) dacă niciun bărbat nu s-a gandit să-ți facă un bine și să te ceară de nevastă până acum. Ți se spune că e deja cam tarziu să faci copii sănătoși. Poate pentru că arăt mai mică sau pentru că port haine ne-serioase colegii mei turci îmi dădeau 21 de ani și mă tratau cu simpatie- lucrurile s-au schimbat  însă când au aflat vârsta mea, dintr-o dată li s-a părut dizgrațios că n-am o slujbă și o familie  și n-au făcut un secret din asta, din păcate. Unii mă întrebau de ce nu un job iar alții de ce nu sunt încă măritată.
Într-una din zile, am încercat ceva cu adevarat revoluționar- fiind cu unul dintre colegii mei de clasă la un ceai, m-am ridicat de la masă și, sub pretextul că merg la toaleta, am mers la bar să plătesc pentru amândoi macar o dată și să-i demonstrez că și femeile pot plati în Sakarya. În momentul urmator, bărbatul de la casierie a început să urle cu voce tare ceva în turca, spre colegul meu care s-a înroșit tot, vădit rușinat de situație. Nenea m-a luat de mănă și m-a dus înapoi la masă, m-a depozitat frumos lângă băiat ca pe-o pisicuță care a îndrăznit să iasă din casă fară permisiunea stăpânului , mi-a pus banii sub ceașca de ceai și mi-a vorbit dojenitor, dar cumva cu milă mie și dur colegului meu. Era la începutul venirii mele în Turcia, nu întelegeam o iotă-aparent domnul patron i-a reproșat colegului meu că lasă o fată să-i plătească ceaiul(ce fel de bărbat e el!?) iar mie mi-a transmis că în Turcia fetele nu platesc niciodată. Pam-pam!
Mi-a luat ceva să-mi revin din răvășeală și aproape că m-am simțit vinovată față de colegul meu. Aveam sentimente contradictorii-știam că i-am produs o neplăcere dar pe de altă parte, îmi spuneam că n-am făcut nimic rău.
Aici nu te simți o bucată de carne(de exemplu un bărbat trebuie să aibă  sau să mimeze o relație cu o femeie ca să facă sex cu ea), cum m-am simțit în Franța, de exemplu, nu găsești patriarhatul acela de tip obiectficant dar te simți ca o invalidă, ca un copil prost care are nevoie de un bărbat să-i poarte de grijă,  ajungi să te simți vinovată pentru orice act care ar putea contrazice cultura în care te afli.
Ce altceva mai faci dacă ești femeie?Păi, ești singura care pune cumpărăturile în coș la supermarket-bărbatul plătește și femeie pune cumpărăturile în punga-niciodată invers, niciodată împreună.
Dacă ești femeie europeană ești curtată și megacurtată, primești zeci de sms-uri și cereri de prietenie pe facebook pentru că barbatii turci cred că pot pune oricând egal între  femeie europeana și femeie ușoară sau cel puțin speră să fie așa. Fetele turcoaice sunt forțate de către familii să-și păstreze virginitatea până la nuntă, chiar și cele din Istanbul, ai căror părinți nu sunt foarte religioși, ale căror mame nu poartă neapărat val. E ușor de imaginat, deci, de ce și cum băieții turci au mari speranțe cu fetele europene, ca să zic așa. Pe de altă parte, este foarte pregnantă această separare pe care colegii mei turci o fac intre –NOI și EUROPA(cum zic ei)-aparent Europa este un alt tărâm, cu alte reguli, cu alte povești,  unde oamenii sunt mai superficiali, nu au valori serioase și unde femeile sunt bune doar pentru distracție. Ei bine…
Va urma…

Acest articol a aparut pe platforma online Feminism-Romania