You know the feeling. You got a blog post or article to write. The ideas are in your head and you just can’t find an angle. Well, I’ve lost too many nights of sleep over this blog post. It’s time to get words on the page!
It’s been a crazy month. Ending up in Slovenia was a curious wildcard in the first place. Getting to know the locals has been an even bigger wildcard. We got the Ice-fella, with his rather skewed view of the world. Classically trained, he’s completely sure that everything is against him and nothing will ever change. Working for his father and heading for a dead end rat race-life. Armed with a self-destructive view on life. But. He says he’s moving to London. If he does, he’ll meet life head on. Life as it really is. And if he embraces that, it can be a highway to the stars.
Which could be awesome.
Then there’s Mr. White BMW, who is more of the pedantic perfectionist-engineer type. Restored an E30-BMW with the little money he has. Works his ass off to make others happy. The guy has such potential, such huge ideas. And he understands my gripes about polyamory, the suffocation under society’s rules. I think he should fuck off to greener pastures, out of this rotten country – break free of the confines bestowed upon him without his approval.
Such colourful stories. I never knew. No one told me there was adventure everywhere. Stay in Finland, it’s a winning lottery ticket to be born in Finland. Well, that may be. But if I’d cashed in on that “winning lottery ticket”, I’d be stuck in a dead end security job slowly deteriorating into an emotionless husk of a man.
-Budapest? Why the hell are you going to Budapest? You got a job there?
-Uhmm.. no. But I’m going to see the world.
-Just stay here, man. You got job security! Why risk that?
I occasionally play with the thought of driving up to Finland in a few years with some big engined Mercedes car and finding that same dude at the same service station having that same cup of coffee in his same secure job.
Yeah. Let me tell you why: I risk it for my life. Because I don’t want to survive. I WANT TO LIVE. Sure, right now I’m working for scraps in a Mariborian cellar apartment with spiders for company. But I’m free to do as I wish, and nothing is preventing me from taking off to the next country. Which I probably will, soon.
Because Croatia seems like a nice place.
See, no one told me, that I’d meet a lovely little Croatian girl with polyamorous ideals and the quirkiest sense of humour. No one told me that those people exist. See, for many years .. for over a decade, I was under the impression that it’s my fault for not meeting anyone interesting. “You’re just too picky.” “What’s wrong with you, why don’t you have a girlfriend?” I never saw the point in getting someone and then being completely chained off any sort of social contact. Because polyamory or anything like that was condemned by society, I ended up just not meeting anyone. Yeah I took the train down there and we spent a lovely little evening together.
And before you ask, no. I don’t chase girls to different countries. Normally. But this girl was worth it. Not like I’d travel hundreds of miles to just have sex.
But it helps.
Too many times recently I’ve heard people challenge polyamory with that condescending tone of “oh, but I want to get to know people and not just have flings with everyone.” And while I appreciate the patronizing attitude, it pisses me off. Because while I like to talk to girls with beautiful figures and bottoms and boobies, it’s not only about meeting someone for kicks. It’s about making friends. Getting to KNOW people. Finding out about their sense of humour, finding out what makes them tick. What their worries are, and what their dreams are. I’m not out here to fuck anything with a pair of tits (although right now I’m pretty close), I’m out here to meet people. And find friends. Find soulmates.
It pisses me off when people say that. Judge me all you want, I don’t give a shit. But the point is, when people confuse polyamory with some random pickup artist going out and predatoring women for one-night stands, it’s insulting. Not to me, but to the concept of friendship. As if friendship, love, warm feelings, connections would be devalued the more you have them!
Sorry guys, it’s completely the opposite: the more you love, the more you love.
Someone asked me if I believe in soulmates. Because I don’t. I think that’s bullshit. Just a marketing term created by, probably some religious nutter, to make people feel happier about wasting their lives with one person. Having said that though, I’m sure that there’s a huge amount of people out there who are compatible with you. An enormous amount of people with whom you’ll have stuff to talk about, laugh about, cry about and create a unique connection that no one else understands. Because only in the last few weeks I’ve found three. And I’m picky, remember? I can’t imagine what I’ll find in the future.
I never knew.
There was the Miami trip, which changed my world. I’ve been writing more than I ever thought possible. Freewriting, it’s called. And it’s opened my mind to completely new ways of thinking. Curiously, it’s also made my daygame approaches much easier. I have no issues approaching women I see as attractive. The approach anxiety, it’s there. Frankly I’m scared as hell, but my feet move before I get to think of an excuse! It’s a wonderful thing.
She was right there! All I needed to do was pull the car over. The air was thick with a sexual tension I’d never experienced before. We wouldn’t tell anyone. No one would know.
Only days before I’d met this person and noted a strangely alluring energy around her. At the time I simply disregarded it as random swooning over a hot older woman. But we had so much to talk about. So much common wavelength. So many common frustrations. And yet, I chickened out. I said nothing.
Sure, she was married and nothing needed to happen. But I said nothing. And that’s the gutless solution. At least tell her how you feel and avoid the frustration and what ifs afterwards!
These last few days though, it’s been a writer’s block of the ages. But not because I didn’t want to write. I had a ton of stories to tell. But it’s all turning into a jumble of private stories belonging to different people. And suddenly I find myself responsible of other people’s stories. Stories they’ve entrusted me to hold. What do I do in that situation? I’m completely overwhelmed by suddenly finding all of these awesome connections with people, and yet, I have no one to share it with. And I’m supposed to be the leader here. Show the way for fuck’s sake? How do I show the way if I’m completely clueless myself?
Those glances she slipped. When no one was looking. Did I imagine those? No, there it is again. Stay cool, man.
That smile though.. I’ve seen it many times before. On the faces of many women, who wished I’d done something when I failed to do shit.
Maybe this time I’ll act. No wait nope, stay cool, dude. Stay cool.
But I wasn’t wrong. It was the smile of someone seeing a glimpse of light. She saw the non-judgmental person in me. Someone completely outside her social circle, the rules in her life, her self-imposed prison. Someone she could confide in. We spoke later in private about things I won’t divulge here or anywhere else.
I hope she finds a way out.
Looking back at all the bullets I’ve dodged by staying out of committed relationships all those years gives me a strange feeling of relief. For not giving into society’s pressure of just “getting it over with”. And it’s definitely worth a pat on the back, for staying true to my own feelings in that sense. But it’s still been my own little secluded world far from the general public’s view on life.
Yet, here I was, witnessing an “ideal couple’s” life, a real life shakespeare in the park, where the underlying frustration would never show without closer examination. Plunging into the middle of that is quite a hefty dose of reality.
I was quite angry at the world that night.
This whole charade roots from having to appear proper in the surrounding community, to avoid being ostracized. Best part is, these two and most other people as well, have no idea why they feel trapped. After all, by society’s standards, everything should be totally fine, right? It’s funny how the human brain is completely sure about things to be true, while the human body feels sick because it’s actually bullshit. Now how’s that for a sick fucking society?
Reminds me of home, now that I think about it.
Yeah, we had a rag tag team of dudes. A restless motorcyclist, a pedantic BMW-driver, an older aged tv-journalist to be-person, and the angriest home video director ever. And myself, a delusional wannabe writer with spiders in his apartment.
I never knew.
I never knew how far I’ve come. At this stage I can pretty much go strike a conversation with a girl on the street if it’s someone who actually interests me. See, there’s two scales I personally go by. A scale of external beauty: most girls are quite pretty, some even gorgeous. But then there’s the more important scale. The scale of attractiveness. It’s perhaps every 30th girl or so that honestly turns my head. They’re the ones with that alluring energy eminating from them, like a glowing aura. Or blinking fog light. When I see these rather rare cases, I move. Especially in cities like Maribor, they don’t come along that often. Then it’s a point of hopping over and ..
-Hi! Don’t worry, I’m not crazy!
And telling them why I bounced over. And then I want to find out about them. Who they are and why they’re so awesome. That’s it. If I get to deliver my compliment, I’m happy.
It puts things into perspective then, hanging around in company with one person completely socially constipated and another with a constant need to show off. The amount of ego and lack of humility is just mind-boggling, when self-esteem is low. Every tiny problem becomes a huge issue, and taking responsibility for a mistake is replaced with defenses, excuses and accusations. So fucking draining. But I didn’t care, I needed a glass of wine.
So we headed up to Rijeka’s nightlife. Rijeka, this small town on Croatia’s coastline, is a beautiful little place, with some fine looking women as well! We sat down at a local boulevard to enjoy some refreshments and check out the local crowd. After a few glasses of wine, and after hearing too many comments about passing people, I couldn’t take it anymore. So I bounced off to say hi to this beautiful brunette. I thought I’d get a laugh out of it and maybe some conversation with some cute Croatian girl.
I expected the guys to follow suit and maybe go chat up some chicks at the bar. But instead of joining me for meeting people, my comrades understood my initiative as a challenge of egos. The first one, being socially constipated, stayed put and grumbled something about getting rejected anyway. The second one, rather than going up to meet people, took my hopping approach to a completely new level and used it to scare people. He was looking for reactions because he felt he was being an entertaining clown. “See, I can do this too!” I remember him saying. Maybe not the best starting point, I thought, but at least we’d be able to have some fun. And to be fair, we ended up sitting with a few girls outside a local bar.
Albeit three girls who absolutely were not looking for company, who I had no interest in, and who were sitting in a horrible spot logistics-wise. But at least they were girls, so that’s something. Now being girls, they immediately saw my non-interest and the relative over-interest of my fellow ape-men. Even so, they valued my transparency and even warmed up to me a bit. Which made the contrast even sharper towards these guys’s socially clueless reaction seeking ego-driven high school style approach.
Was I disappointed in my company? Nah. It was to be expected. Was I disappointed in myself? Perhaps. After Miami and after listening to all these stories about being trapped in the wrong lives, there was a growing thought in the back of my mind about spending too much time with the wrong kind of company. Which means my time in Maribor must come to an end. The atmosphere is too dulling. It’s time for new adventures.
Curiously though, my whole life I’ve been taught that every decent Finn should suffer a horrible winter with awful weather and life should be dull and grey, and everything above that requires millions and billions of moneys. Now it seems, that only with barely minimum Finnish wage, you could easily afford to live in a beach apartment in Rijeka.
I never knew..