NSFW, triggering, sexually explicit, 18+
Video: On Wednesday, 10 March 1996, Lauren attends a screening of Guns N Roses, Tokyo 1992. Pretty Tied Up was the 7th song of that VHS.
And on Tuesday and Thursday she writes in her diary:
PRETTY TIED UP
Tuesday March 9, 1996
I feel I m in way over my head!
Sunday I came up with this idea to clean up my agenda, my social life. And get the healthy and productive lifestyle of Me, at 16!
No more Sunday night bar benders. Which didn’t seem too hard, since the Hard Rock Cafe is closed because of holiday or hygiene reasons. Either way my Thursday and Sunday fan nights are already cancelled, so it was a relatively small step (or so it seemed) to getting back to my high school rhythm.
Just the thought of having close to 10 productive hours a day, made my mouth water!
I m a freelancer, and I only bill effective hours:
Combined with how easily distracted I am, and often having the overwhelming urge to do my own work first (writing new work, even though I still have not picked up publishing my old work, my books) this means it often takes three days before I can bill 8 hours.
And then I power through, work until way too late like I did yesterday night after having lost the entire day because Bear came by.
He just stayed a few hours, early afternoon.
But it killed my workday and maybe also because I didn’t want to feel the pain of him leaving;
I chose to work until after midnight instead.
So within 24 hours of starting my Project 88, 88 days of living my 1988 life, my current life had already spun out of control.
Instead of better, it had gotten worse.
And today a new neighbor brought me 5 gigantic homemade cookies, which were the best cookies I have ever eaten.
And eaten in the shortest amount of time, I imagine.
So on this project that was supposed to bring back my 16 year old size 6, one entire meal consisted of cookies.
But there is also good news.
About my books.
And it was such a surprise, and also shock!
I felt so free and happy and bold! I even checked with the publisher if my new plan was actually allowed.
All ISBN numbers, meaning all my books, are already registered at 1995, via a publisher that allows you to publish your own books.
It’s totally different to having a normal publisher.
So I asked:
“How strong is this push to hire an editor and designer, and make it look professional?
Because I would like to try something else, but I don’t know if I am allowed to.”
I was very proud of my choice of words “try something else”. I had thought long and hard about that. I didn’t want to shove it down their throats, because they have been so good to me.
But I also didn’t want to go ahead with something that is, three months after registering all the ISBNs and hardly making any headway publishing my books, clearly not working.
The task of publishing that many manuscripts is impossible.
So I asked:
“What if I would give myself one day for every book?
And that I print them however they come out after that one day?
No more, no less.”
And they agreed this was interesting and that they would help me!
In particular with coming up with some kind of cover format that we can adjust for every book.
So that was all very exciting (maybe you’re noticing I m not talking about Bear being here yesterday, but I m still trying to not think about it until the first pain of missing him has worn off) and then another thing happened!
Guns N Roses fans from the Thursday group at the Hard Rock Cafe are throwing a potluck party, and it’s tomorrow.
Someone has the Live in Tokyo VHS, and that’s what we’re gonna watch.
Shame it’s not the Sunday group with Bon Jovi fans, because I would have loved to see that special guy where I had, rubbing-crotches-in-passing-by-with-drinks contact with.
But then again, maybe throwing home parties on a Wednesday night is more of a dirty thing.
And Jovi fans would be too modest or hardworking to take it that far.
Let’s take it that far.
PRETTY TIED UP – part II
Thursday March 10, 1996
The potluck Guns N Roses night, with the show Live from Tokyo, was a success.
Although I did sleep through my alarm this morning, for the first time this week.
I m on an 88 day challenge to get into my 1988 high school rhythm. But I slipped within 24 hours, when Bear came by my house and we had sex.
It wasn’t that I could not have foreseen that, because as opposed to other times when he didn’t announce himself until last minute, or he didn’t announce himself at all, I knew he would come by.
I think as far as thinking what this meant for my chances of returning to my 16 yo virgin lifestyle, on the day my former lover would come by, and thinking those chances were higher than zero;
That was because I was still holding on to the idea that I wasn’t going to have sex with him.
He s living with his girlfriend, and I didn’t want to be a mistress. Still don’t, not really. If he had wanted me he should have chosen me.
First time we had sex was January 1990, so it’s not like he didn’t have a chance to mull things over.
And he broke up with me December 1994, and we’ve been flirting since spring 1995. Toying with the thought of starting an affair, and meanwhile also toying with each other. So we have been fooling around, and we did have sex but it was not all the way, and just in general not as intense as we used to have it. We deliberately kept it very playful and not too intimate.
Yet it was difficult, and I often had panic attacks after he left.
But it was also hot and exciting.
A year, since we started flirting!
So I too had plenty of time to mull things over.
And I am glad I did, because man! Monday, first time real sex, was so intense!
Despite my superficial “keep it light” decision, “don’t get caught up”and so on, which implies I was going to stick with other things than full sex, on a deeper level things had been both more complicated, as well as more simple.
More complicated because I knew I had outgrown the phase I drew lines in the sand, or above my panties.
But simpler because I was going to follow my heart, what felt good. Fully aware that more sex included a higher chance of meltdowns, emotional backlashes, and more recovery time.
After over 1.5 year without full sex and still madly in love, I had ran out of reasons to play safe and be the good girl.
So I stopped being a good girl.
And it was hands down the best sex I have ever had in my life.
It was as if I was a virgin physically!
I know it’s not possible, but damn it was tight! And it stayed that way, no matter how often he penetrated me.
Which was often.
But not as often as the times I had his dick in my mouth, which was deep!
I apparently have a very deep throat, or so I have been told twice after I had to stick my tongue out at a doctor’s office. One exclaimed I was the dream “test patient” for the throat area because you could look so far into my throat.
Well, however deep it was, it didn’t have spare space when he took me deeply. Bear knows I like that.
Something other women do not like, or so the few female friends with whom I have discussed my sex life have told me.
Ever since I know that, I appreciate Bear even more.
Before that I was just….spoiled I guess. Didn’t appreciate it. But exactly like with all other things sexual, including anal sex if we had that, he reads me.
He’s never strong or rough in a disconnected way.
The guy is psychic!
The smallest twitch, or hesitation, and even things I do not know myself, and he sees it. He stops. He asks.
This all didn’t happen Monday, because my entire body was one big screaming Hell Yes.
When I say I gave more blowjobs than I have fingers on one hand, and how deep it went, this is an illustration of how much I was into it. Not to accuse him of not being sensitive, nor of blaming him for the backlash that I can feel will still come….
It’s one thing to have an affair with someone who leaves you afterwards.
But to have one with the sex we had Monday? That hurts down to your bones.
I m on day four of holding it at bay, hoping that time will take the sharpest edges off before the blow strikes.
Yesterday, at the party with about eight other Guns N Roses fans from the Thursday gang, watching the VHS from Live in Tokyo, I noticed Slash was wearing a black T-Shirt with a white print.
For a moment I thought it was the same shirt Jon Bon Jovi was wearing in 1995, of Thin Lizzy. I went up very close to the TV screen.
But it wasn’t Thin Lizzy. It was a cartoon.
And the disappointment over not having guessed the right shirt went over to disappointment about not having the right boyfriend.
And feeling less like Thin Lizzy, and more like a cartoon.
An unexamined life is not worth living
Pretty Tied Up| 1996 diary
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