I couldn’t help but wonder | It Took Me A Very Long Time To Get Here – season 2

July 28, 2021

In Spring 2021 I wrote diary entries on Facebook, inspired by Carrie from Sex and the City, who is also a writer just like me.
But it didn’t stick, mainly because my other diaries took flight or I started new ones.
And it died out.

However, in 2020 I wrote a series I called It Took Me A Very Long Time To Get Here. And I called it Season One.
The idea behind It Took Me A Very Long Time To Get Here, was that I would write about my relationship with “my” Mister Big, for four seasons of each 11 episodes.

A project I did not pick up in 2021 for a season two…

Which is why I have decided to add the collection of diary posts I Couldn’t Help But Wonder,
and although it is only three posts –
will be my season two of It Took Me A Very Long Time To Get Here.
It is my 2021 addition to this annual series, where I reflect on my writing, my relationship, myself.
I think it’s an annual recalibrating of who I am. 

I do have other diaries still going on, among which my 1995 journal and a project called A Sexual Odyssey.
Subscribe to this blog, or follow me Facebook
or Twitter: @LSHarteveld
to read these new posts, when they come out.

And then, without further ado, here’s my May 2021 diary
I Couldn’t Help But Wonder


13 May, 2021
post 1/3

I already have two diaries here on Facebook and they go on the blog as well (I m a bit slow on reposting/ bundling them, but they will get done!)
but neither of the two is exactly “me”.

One is the diary of 23 year old Lauren in 1996, where I translate my constrained 2021 Covid life to her age, and to 1996.
I started this series in 2019 (her 1994), so that was before the pandemic which was both a blessing,
– my escapism was not Covid induced! It had been my free choice to go into this experiment of seeing life through young, 1994 eyes –
but it was also a curse, because on top of having to translate 2.5 decades off of my age, I now also had to come up with a story line for my tethered twin in the 90s universe, when 2020 me was home bound.

It required imagination, and sometimes I just dropped out and announced I would stop writing because this was no life for 23 year old me.

That diary (you can find the one from first half 2020/1995 HERE) was and is fun, and almost two years up and running!, but it requires a lot of thinking before I can write a new entry.
My other diary here is a Covid inspired diary, where I am documenting the final months of Covid.

I intend to write until the final measure is gone.
Naturally this is also not a daily thing, because I don’t have daily things to say about it.

So today I decided I needed a low-key daily format, so I can share my work and myself.
And from all the characters I have used over the years to illustrate “me”, Madonna, Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct, Molly Ringwald (young me), Charlize Theron in Atomic Blonde;

Carrie Bradshaw from Sex and the City, was the one who always felt like Me the most.
Because she’s a writer, just like me. And also just like Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct, but I ve written soo much about her already!
But Carrie is more relatable!
And the moment I started calling my lover Mr.Big, I started feeling connected to Carrie. Identification with Sharon Stone/ Basic Instinct didn’t come to full fruition until recently.

These entries are not about Mr.Big or my sex life.
After all those years our situation grew increasingly complicated, which was one of the reasons I started diary writing as Lauren96/ Lauren 1994 when it started.
By transferring my life to the 90s, I had automatically added fiction into the mix.
If the men in Lauren’s life are inspired by 2021 men, is irrelevant.

But the identification with Carrie has stayed.

So here I am on Ascension (Christian holiday)
Not only do I want to write daily;
I also want to have a go at all those different topics and ideas that I have written down the past couple of months.
Things I could not write about in Covid diaries, not in my 1996 series, and not even to my coach Sara.
All new thoughts and interesting hooks, that I just can’t wait to get my head around.
Illustrated with a photo of Carrie Bradshaw.

“I couldn’t help but wonder…..”
That was her line, she always used it in her column as she was pondering over relationships, in particular her relationship with Mr.Big.

I couldn’t help but wonder;

What would Carrie’s columns have looked like, in times of Covid?

Let’s find out.

Carrie-and-Big-carrie-bradshaw-12926895-424-308DON T LET PERFECT SEX BECOME THE ENEMY OF GOOD
14 May, 2021
post 2/3

In 2006 me and my boyfriend split, and the one thing I had in mind that I wanted to learn now that I was single for the first time in my adult life, was to “date”.
I never had that time of courtship and getting to know each other. I was always one of the boys and we just “hung out”.
Dating had always been the same as hanging out with the gang, just with two people instead of six.
And with sex after.

Although I had had relationships since I was young, I felt I had never “dated”.
Not just in the practical sense of what it is you do on a night together, but just the general notion of being in this in-between zone, where you have expressed an interest in each other simply by choosing to spend time together (entirely new concept!);
But also dating as a time when you practice being together, get to know each other, work towards your first kiss, first time sex, first weekend away maybe even.

“Dating” sounded like a process with so many things I had never done, but also like a lot less casual than what I was used to.
It seemed so determined compared to what suddenly felt like a Beavis and Butthead style of being together.
With a lot of “Uh uh okay”.

And I think one of the reasons I really liked my life as a single since then, is because I was so serious about dating.
I knew it was something special and really appreciated a man being with me. And him (or me) not having that excuse of being part of a group.
I felt more special, more chosen, when I dated than all the years I had just run into men because we hung out with the same people.

However, ultimately, I think when it comes to sex this started working against me.
Because I was so deliberate and conscientious with what it was I/we were doing (dating) I slept with more men than I would have than if we would have been in a hung out situation group style.
In a group, I would have been more passive. I would not have worked so hard to have a good time.
I would not have, as we say in the Netherlands, put up the decorations by myself.

I think because I was so invested in making our time together special, I failed to see that it was me working my butt off.
Not him.

Now my behavior or enthusiasm did pay off: I always had great lovers.
Once we were in bed, they were always really great to be around with, and I do not regret any of them.
But after that?
Oh boy.

It was so tough to get along. I felt I was walking on eggs, or could set off a trip wire anytime. And often did.
NOW it had become hard work.
NOW he was lukewarm, behaving oddly, and there was a passive aggressiveness that I had not seen before.
I had not seen it before; Literally.
Because if you hang out together and then become interested in each other, those situations of suddenly becoming lukewarm do not exist.

Neither one can afford to shit where they sleep.

So all in all, my eagerness for dating “like a real adult” and leave that student-esque way behind me, came with a few downsides.
But the upsides prevailed:
It broadens your horizons, you can date anybody you want.
It gives you a sense of freedom.

And of course the sex:
The sex had been outstanding!
No exceptions.
And under those circumstances I learned to be flexible when it comes to sex. To not wait for perfect.

I think one of the main reasons sex becomes so stale in long-term relationships, or did in mine anyway compared to the fireworks of the beginning-
the reason is, you have the luxury of time. Of waiting for it to be perfect.
I think women in particular, are uncomfortable with the timing not being ideal.

When you re going steady or living together, you have the luxury to wait for a more perfect day, the luxury of choice.
But that takes the urge off.

If he came over from the other side of the country to see you, you know you only have one night.
Saying No because you’re in your period, or have an important meeting tomorrow, or whatever, is going to cost you.

Despite me putting in so much time and effort in the date itself, and being aware I was (am!) “working”;
I was hardly ever prepared for the sex that followed.
I, my body, the circumstances, were never perfect.

And even recently, 2020 and 2021, with every encounter coming with a chance to catch Covid and contaminate everybody you come into contact with;
Circumstances are still not perfect.
Because of Covid.
Because of periods.
Because of him being unavailable for more.
Because of feeling nauseous from loneliness and just the entire dystopian feeling this era has.

And yet, it really is Carpe Diem all over again.
It is Carpe Diem ALWAYS

I still date, but by now I ve learned to only go for men who do the work for me.
Who take the lead.
Sure it’s something we do together, but I no longer put in so much work on the “dating” side, and then need the sex to make up for it.

The dates would be perfect in their own right, even when there would not be sex at all.

But these two Covid years more than ever, every time I feel myself getting fearful, thinking of my calendar for the upcoming weeks and thinking:
“Good God!”

The thought of the consequences of getting sick or all the drama of people getting tested and quarantined:
It’s so tempting to just postpone life itself, until we’re all vaccinated.

But then I remember all the years of dating, when I just put one foot in front of the other.
When all I had was one night, one chance.
And knowing that he was very likely to turn cold or impossible to deal with after.

I remember those times and just went for it.
And I never, ever, regretted it.

When it comes to sex:
I don’t let perfect become the enemy of good.
And I suggest you do the same.

2eeb4696a73deeb4fdc9b82c37a2c0daI WRITE AND THEREFOR, WHAT EXACTLY?
16 May, 2021
post 3/3

One of my first blog posts, written in 2010, was titled “I Write Therefor I Cheat”.

It dealt with the feeling of how writing feels more like cheating, like a clandestine activity, than like neutral work that you can balance and that is quite easily separated from what you do in your free time.

Work can be separated from a relationship, or work can be kept out the door and doesn’t need to be discussed if you are living with someone.

But writing is a passion, something you naturally start doing, effortlessly, and before you know it you have spent copious amounts of time with your keyboard.

Time that has not been weighed upon a scale if it nicely balances out with your values, your goals, and spoken or unspoken agreements you have with your significant other.

You could even wonder how significant that other even is, judged by the matter of course you give writing your undivided time and attention.

Over a decade after that column I keep being confronted with the fact that I have not made any progress in that area.
That I seemed to have had the clearest vision right in those first years, but that I didn’t “perfect” my model.

Every now and then I am reminded by how scarily little I know about the way writing influences my life.
And how the little things that jump in your face and that you can’t possibly deny, point to bigger underlying differences between those who write, and therefor spend hour after hour day after day in their own heads;
And those who don’t.

Those who are not writers engage in:
Meaningful relationships, social activities, hobbies, learning new skills, watching Netflix series or movies, building a business, an empire, creating a home, raising children, raise them well.

And those who write:

Writing does not just replace the need to cheat, as my piece “I Write Therefor I Cheat” stated;
Writing replaces the need for e-v’ry-thing, that is not writing!

And what it does to your body, your soul, your life, is most easily described by what drugs or addictions do;
You prioritize writing and everyone who wants you to stop with it, moderate it, contain it, more strategically use it so that it becomes more of a tool for success and less like an all consuming monster that takes over your life;

Those are first greeted with understanding.
Of course.
They are right.
Writing requires to be managed better so that you and your loved ones can enjoy its benefits, and no one gets deprived of attention or care they deserve.
And that you believe they should have.
In theory.

Because in practice, just like an addict will throw out anything standing between him and his drug of choice;
Ultimately you always choose writing.

This weekend I tried to appreciate what being single was bringing me. Because I had signs that I was choosing this.
I always fall for taken men, not available men.
And, perhaps more importantly, I also do not dream of being in a relationship.

Sure: When I really like a man, I dream of spending more time with him.
Because I like him!
But I don’t have goals or desires to be in a relationship, or to live together with a man.
Other than that desire that is person-bound.

Everyday I have dreams for my life, from my income level to my art, fame, success.
And I fine tune my daily activities accordingly, so that everything I do is in line with what it is I want.
Yet none of them are focused on getting myself a relationship that has daily communication or is aimed at living together.

When it comes to a particular person I am interested.
But I do not have an “unbound”, autonomous, desire for a relationship.
It’s a bit like a desire to have children; It’s generic, and some of us do not have it.
Yet, like so many weekends I do not feel a happy single and I wondered why.
Why am I not enjoying all the possibilities of being single?
Why am I not dating, having fun?
Why do I both know I have chosen this life, without trying to find someone to spend my life with?
And also know I will never have that world traveler adventurer style glow, that really happy singles have?

And then it hit me;
Because I write.

Writing takes up so much space that not only do you not have time to build a life, a brand, a business, a family, a relationship;
You do not even have time to enjoy the carefree-ness of being without all of those responsibilities.

Writing, art, creativity, purpose, passion, are like an addiction;
All consuming.
All encompassing.
With little room to wiggle.

Ten years after I thought I knew what it meant, to be a writer, I realize more than ever that I will never know.

I can just be.


An unexamined life is not worth living

Season 1:
Defining Moments | It Took Me A Very Long Time To Get Here – The Full Season 1

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Month 11 | The Covid Diaries

rx6gsutbpk731INTRODUCTION TO “MONTH 11”
July 25, 2021

In January 2021, 11 months after the pandemic started, I briefly wrote Facebook posts, a series I called “Creator’s Diary”.
It ended after 4 entries, and I never posted them to this blog.

But in particular because of the last entry, I can now see they are part of my Covid Diaries. 
And that the reason they stopped, was most likely because I felt that disconnect with the world again.
The feeling that I was unsure for whom I was writing, how to view the world, or my own existence. 

“Month 11”, counting in months, is something that was used in “A Quiet Place” to indicate how much time had past since the monsters appeared and took over the earth.
I gladly borrow the time signature, partially for dramatic effect, but I am grateful we’re not facing the monsters they do!

Although references to a world ruled by monsters were made.
This is what the posts said:

21 January
post 1

To support my project of writing a diary as if I m living in 1996, I m reading a book about sensible/ functional use of social media.
“Digital Minimalism” by Cal Newport

Just like other forms of minimalism, it’s about recalibrating your life so that what you spend your time AND undivided attention on, reflects your values.
Although I m definitely not a purist in implementing this book, I highly recommend reading it.
The vibe of it has already freed up so much time usually spent on social media/ email/ scrolling;
The book has created its own time to read it! 


22 January
post 2

A topic I m currently investigating, is how our minds got hacked by online media.
And how to get them back.
We are currently losing time, daily, checking our likes, reading new shiny things.
By now, it’s just not social media:
All sites have been engineered to reward staying and reading more.

Where we put our awareness and our time seldom reflects our values.
The things we really find important.
The things we would really like to spend our leisure time on.

Many of us do not even have leisure time/offline time anymore;
We are always behind on what we want to do, what we want to achieve, and when we do fun things we want to document them.
As if they do not exist unless we make it public.

Today I discussed this with a friend, and he pointed out that at the turn of the century, the youth in Finland were already communicating with each other in SMS “bubbles”.
They had a culture where they “hung out” on SMS, and then met each other in real life/ a certain place in the city.
The youth of Finland was the iGen generation (born after 1995) avant la lettre.
Before any other culture, they lived in an online community with its own rules, its own risks of being thrown out or excluded.
A culture not understood by their parents.

When I got home I investigated this culture further and it brought me to the history of texting.
It is very ironic that texting was seen as a way to communicate, to not bother other people.
A call was intrusive, especially at out of office hours.
But by texting two people could communicate with each other at different times.
“I didn’t see your message.”
“I only just read your message.”
Were perfectly viable explanations.
Aside from maybe the Finnish youth, immediate answers were never expected.
Let alone residing next to your phone, and being addicted to your notifications as we are today.

Twenty years after the avant-la-lettre iGen generation in Finland, most of us are acting as if we are in such a highly-pressured peer group as 15-25 years olds usually are.
(And always have been)
There are few fixed rules, and in order to be a part of such a group, you need to be constantly tuned in and watch group dynamics like a hawk.

In the book I m reading, Digital Minimalism, by Cal Newport, he gives a number about which percentage of the mental brain-width goes to social interactions.
I think it was somewhere along the lines of 80%
And that was not counting SMS and online culture, I think this percentage might even come straight from the chimpanzees.

I think in the upcoming decade, we’re going to see an enormous shift in our presence on internet.
That just like with smoking that went from something everybody did everywhere, and was marginalized, using your smartphone will no longer be normal, but become functional again.
And this will happen within a decade.

I found many studies about the negative effect of online culture, both in Finland as well as globally namely on generation iGen (born after 1995)
But although a youth that was (in my opinion) unprepared and not properly guided in the exposure their phones would cause, is no doubt the saddest of all effects;
I think we only have to look at our own lives, and if we’re born before 1985 we very well remember it without technology;
If we look at that, we can see what we’ve lost.

And maybe it is our responsibility to do our part, and bring offline culture back.
So that at least the youth has a choice, where they want to live.


23 January
post 3

A few minutes ago, the Netherlands got their first Covid curfew, which will last two weeks minimum.
I ve just deleted an entire paragraph about how long I think this is going to take.
Or why Covid has been very unfair to everybody under 25.
And just like climate change, no more houses being available and phone and media addictions that are altering their brains and creating anxiety, we were unable to stop it from happening.
We have not protected our youngest generation the way I think we all wished we had, or maybe a better way of saying it is that we are not giving them the world we wanted them to have.

The following is not addressed to those under 25, but those older and in particular those born before 1985:
Being addicted to refreshing your newsfeed, checking your mail, your likes and so on, is addictive behavior that means you do not FEEL what reality is.
It’s like the movie Ready Player One where the reality is so bad, people are in the virtual reality, The Oasis, as much as they can
Even at the end of the movie, when the government becomes more humane, they close the Oasis for one day a week.
But they keep using it as an escape for 6.

In in another movie The Matrix, something similar happens when the human bodies are used as batteries, and their minds are entertained in The Matrix.
If in this virtual reality The Matrix, you meet someone from the resistance you can choose between The Red Pill, which will awaken you, or The Blue Pill, which will leave you in your state of blissful ignorance.
Few want the red pill.
Many choose ignorance.

I feel that because my generation and the ones before have failed to create a sustainable future, a sustainable now, AND we have raised an entire generation addicted to The Oasis, asleep in the Matrix,
the least we should be able to do, is to be present and aware in the world we created.
Offline and online.


24 January     
final diary entry

Last night Covid curfew started in The Netherlands, and it was dead quiet.
I was in bed at least an hour earlier than usual, and it was after having this eerie desolate feeling for hours already.
As if, especially for a Saturday night, something was very very wrong.

And most will agree it was:
Whether you’re mourning the Covid tragedy or the loss of freedom, I think few will disagree that in a country with a curfew something is seriously wrong.

Going to bed in a silence that could have meant I was the only living creature within miles, I wondered;
“How many people will love this silence so much, this measure wins by popular demand? ”
And when I woke up, as if I had spent money on a holiday in the mountains that serene, that sensation was even stronger.
We have to be weary to not get used to this.

It was dark.
Since the sun doesn’t get up before 8.15 or something that didn’t mean much so I checked and to my surprise it was already 7.30.
If the clock had said 4 I would have believed it, because it was so quiet.

I went about my day.
At 10 AM I had to leave, and by this time, it was still so quiet I got an I Am Legend like feeling.
From the movie where Will Smith plays the only survivor, in a world taken over by zombies and wildlife.
Since I had not checked any news, could I even be SURE the rest of the world had not been (quietly) eaten by zombies?
So I checked.

According to our news sites, the world was not overtaken by zombies.
The silence really was the silence of curfew and a country that didn’t have a good reason to get out of bed.

Today there were Covid protests, and they got out of hand.
For the first time since, I don’t know, the eighties? , there were/are riots, clashes with the police, property destroyed.

Turns out what I was hearing last night was the quiet before the storm.

An unexamined life is not worth living

Month 11
is part of The Covid Diaries

You can follow The Covid Diaries coming to life
on Facebook
& Twitter: @LSHarteveld



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Button on this page, probably on the top right.

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It’s Chapter 2 | introduction | The Covid Diaries

tenor (35)I read Everybody started a diary during Covid.
And Everybody thought they were very original, and that it was so unoriginal that in fact you were more original when you did not have a blog or a journal or a book documenting your life during the pandemic.

So suffice to say that I’m aware that I have to win you over on this one, and why mine is worth reading.

Firstly, and I m writing this July 22 2021; my Covid Diaries are a bona fide mess.
Just like the way the pandemic has been managed in many countries and in the Netherlands for sure, the pandemic on this blog has been managed without a clear ending point in mind.
Without a clear vision of where it is, that I am heading.

But, unlike the pandemic, it is a rounded story. It’s done.
Just that I have to dive into this blog and collect the stories that were written, and line them up for you.

I will blog/ post new additions, and ultimately everything can be found on the project page, in their neat and chronological order.

However, the most unique selling point I have to offer you is not the flying by the seat of my pants like fashion in which these diaries have come into being the past 16 months, but the unique perspective they’re written from.

Because I would know few, if any, diary writers, who would have the let’s call it the “horrific” baggage as I do, to watch the pandemic through a lens that may have been a tragedy on a personal level,
but that is of course artistic gold.

I started this alterego LS Harteveld in 2006, and wrote many erotic stories, which brought me inside the community of people who wrote them.
What struck me was that although many could have blamed me for being archaic in my writing and my stories of lacking contemporary value because they were leaning on the style of Anais Nin’s early 20th century erotica;
I liked them that way.

If I read erotic stories that are set in this time, I pretty much choke immediately, and not in a good way, on words like texting, dating sites, Tinder if I d read stories the past few years which I haven’t.
And I m also thoroughly unhappy with contemporary writing styles.

*exclamation mark*

I ADORE (those capitals were intentionally) contemporary writing styles and my work exists predominantly on and through social media, but for erotica?
Mother of God, can we please keep it civil?
Leave the cell phones out?
Not mention leather or latex, but dress in white linen shirts that gently caress our skin? 

I thought modern day erotica was a far cry from Anais Nin’s work, and that the craft had actually deteriorated.
If you’re Dutch you can buy my Dutch erotica book here, and see for yourself.
Or browse the bookshop incl English books

And that comparison between my erotica and what I found was mainstream erotica, is about the same expectations I have for the ample Covid Diaries not written by me.

They will all be very relatable, and about face masks, hospital tragedies, the consequences for families and individuals.
They will be about the struggles between groups who are pro and those who are against vaccination, the Covid measures, and there will be analysis of Covid from economic, sociological, psychological and political perspective.

But will there be anyone who writes about the Steven King worthy Evil?
A force like the entity from It, whose physical form was a simple clown, but who drew out the most malignant side of every adult living in Derry, Main.

Will Everybody’s Covid diary acknowledge that just like in the town of Derry, Main, the missing children were  just a sign of a deeply festered evil?
That Covid has shown us the It of our times?

Because it has.

Covid has tapped straight into the previous pandemic of aids in the 80s, which was the era of the novel It, released in 1986.
A raging, distorted fear of aids, raising a generation of coming-of-age gay boys but also heterosexual teens, to whom sex would always be tied to sickness, death, and social exclusion.

The book It (1986) as well as the movie It (2017), both use this paralyzing and toxic fear of aids.

“It’s” (the movie, LH) open-faced engagement with adolescent fear
provides a perfect setting for reminding audiences
of the lived experiences of those coming of age during an epidemic.

AIDS, It, and the Horror of the 1980s by Aaron Lecklider 

The consequences for “Those coming of age during an epidemic”
were indeed dramatic.
As they will be for the ones growing up now.

So if you want to know how the Covid pandemic looked for someone who has lived through that experience of coming to age in the Derry, Main era of the 80s?

Where adults and government organisations were poisoned by something, that only appeared on the surface to be a deadly disease, only appeared to be a clown who abducted kids.
But that in fact was Evil itself.

If you want to know how the Covid pandemic has been for us?
Those children of the 80s who see it happening all over again?
Then this is my story.

An unexamined life is not worth living

It’s Chapter 2
is the introduction of The Covid Diaries

You can follow The Covid Diaries coming to life
on Facebook
& Twitter: @LSHarteveld



My diaries are available at LULU
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
is to subscribe to this blog.
Button on this page, probably on the top right.

Or follow my Facebook page
/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

Nederlands blog:

Undocumented Sex | 1996 diary

actor Aidan Quinn, 1980s or 1990s

diary 1996
Wednesday July 7, 1996

Well who knew!

It’s two weeks since I visited the hard rock cafe, and realized that it was pointless to go out or distract myself with the company of other men.

That I had fallen in love with my pen friend Nikki, and that despite me rationally being against it, judging it as silly not to mention very unpractical, my hours and Dutch guilders spent in the company of other men hoping I would find a new lover were pretty pointless.

There is Bear, who has a girlfriend and who only visits me occasionally.

And there is Nikki the English bootleg trader with whom I write.
And who has just sent me the most amazing, long, wonderful letter, first time after my phone call to him, but he will not be writing much this summer.
So Nikki is not out, but I will have to do without our frequent correspondence.
But Nikki and Bear have been the men in my life this year.

Heart taken, deal done, and ps get the fuck out of those Thursday (Guns N Roses) and Sunday (Bon Jovi) nights at the hard rock cafe.
I had said goodbye to the girl with whom I was there the most, and I had also given her permission to give my phone number to anyone who wanted to stay in touch.
And tonight I got a call from one of the two men, with whom I had flirted so much it was strange nothing more happened.
His name is Lucas, and long story short he has asked me out. But it was a long story.

Originally, he just asked how I was doing and that he’d heard I had stopped coming.
Just small talk, really.
And we chatted a bit but I was also really honest that I had been surprised nothing had happened. But that I thought it was because I was in love with someone I wrote with.

That’s when I felt a bit of hesitation on the other side.
“Well….” he said, and then laughed.
“What?!” I asked. “There is another reason?!”
I was all ears.

Turns out Lucas has been feeling it too, but that he’s just very weary taking it further because he’s a bit of a wild boy. I think that means he’s not in love with me, and doesn’t see me as a serious candidate and wants to avoid heartbreak.

He said that literally: “I don’t want to break your heart.”

I didn’t deny or say “Oh that would not happen.” or something. It’s a very real risk, and with Bear moving in with his girlfriend after us being secret student sweethearts for years and years, another one stepping onto my heart is the last thing I need.

But it was refreshing to hear us not doing anything was not just because I was behaving immaturely and had a crush on a man in England I had never met nor seen.
It definitely felt better to have a real man who visits the same bar as you, worrying over crushing your heart.
Lucas is 10 years older than I am. He’s turning 34 this summer and I am turning 24.

At one point I said something like, why are you calling if you don’t want to go out with me, and he answered:
“I never said that. I just don’t want to break your heart.”
So it was clear that we both wanted to keep seeing each other and that neither one wanted my heart being broken.

“Don’t get any romantic feelings,” he said. And then that laugh again: “Maybe we should go to a very bad movie. Like very violent or something.”

I don’t know if it was a joke or a real suggestion, but I took my chances and grabbed the movie ladder.

Seven was still showing, once a week and it was tomorrow.
“Shall we do that one?” I asked.
And I added: “It’s with Brad Pitt, so you can split the attention.”
He said he knew with whom it was.
“I review movies, remember.” he said.
“Great! That’s settled then.” I concluded.

So tomorrow, a Thursday, which would have been our Guns n Roses night if I had not stopped going, we’re going to see Seven.


diary 1996
Tuesday July 20, 1996

Madonna early 80s

Lucas never showed up.
I unexpectedly went to see Bear that Thursday, he was staying at his friend’s place again. Bear is “baby sitting” the dog again, because his friend is on vacation.
I made sure I was home on time to shower and to change into something for the cinema, but when I got home there was a message from Lucas on my machine that he was not going to make it, and that he would call me soon for another appointment, and then he never did.

Originally I didn’t see anything wrong with it. He’d probably chosen to go to the hard rock cafe instead, I mean it was his Thursday!
Or our Thursday, when I still went there as well.
I could understand perfectly well.

So I made the mistake of calling him that Friday, just to say it was no problem, and to make a new date.
I got his answering machine, and then he didn’t call back afterwards.

The following days, I simply could not believe what had happened.
The breaking the heart thing had been serious after all, but it was not a real break… it was weird. Very weird. 
Part of me thought he’d still come around next week, you know. Probably had an old girlfriend contacting him, someone he still had feelings for, or he met someone new.
There could be plenty of reasons why he had played it safe and had, I presumed temporarily, sidelined me.
But no.
Next week, nothing either.

And now both the afternoon with Bear, which I remember to be so lovely in particular because it was entirely different again from the last time, and the evening when Lucas stood me up, are almost two weeks ago.
And I haven’t written about any one of those.
In particular losing a date with Bear, losing sex with Bear, because so shortly after I got kind of sucked into this dating drama.
That bugs me.

I feel bad for not honoring what me and Bear had that afternoon, by not writing about it. And also guilty, because it was my fault all along. 
I should never have agreed to come that Thursday, because I knew I d be in the theater with another man within hours.
Even when that was supposed to be platonic, it’s not ideal.

So in a way I ve been feeling guilty for almost two weeks now, instead of enjoying the afterglow of great sex. Because it was great sex, I remember that much!

I remember seeing him naked on the bed, as I was standing next to the bed undressing. I can’t remember why we were in such a practical mood, and why undressing each other was not wrapped up in our love making or in erotic role playing.
Although I do remember why it wasn’t wrapped up in erotic role playing because we have not done that at all since we started having sex again.

We didn’t pick up the role playing.

But it wasn’t unpleasant. I even thought being so practical about undressing gave it a high school like charm. That’s when Bear was on the bed waiting, lying on his back and I almost drank his beauty, his body, with my eyes.
I thought that in another universe, where we were all just energy and not real flesh and bones, I would like to take a little bite or in a way consume him.
Sex really is merely a substitute for a desire to melt together, on the most fundamental, cellular level. Which is of course impossible, so then you go have sex.

But it might explain why we did melt together in a way we had not done before;
I let him come in my mouth.

I have been suffering from anxiety whenever I had unsafe sex for as long as I can remember.
When I met Bear, it was one of the first things I told him, because it was the reason I was unsuccessful as a single. I didn’t want to be a virgin, I wanted to have a sex life, but having oral sex even when a man did not come in my mouth, had been causing so much stress even when I did have a real boyfriend, that I just backed out of even trying such a thing as a single.
Sometimes I kissed or fondled a bit, but I just couldn’t make myself do more.

Bear knew all that, and brushed it aside. He said we’d use condoms for oral, and that was that.
Within six months or something, I gave the blowjobs without a condom but I never let him come in my mouth.
Until now.

Because he asked.

And I responded with such enthusiasm! 
I was so happy that we still had that left, that first time, that milestone. I had honestly completely forgotten about it, and I was happy to say yes to that.
And for the first time since the boyfriend I had before Bear, Jonathan, I tasted sperm. It almost made me nostalgic, but at the same time it was difficult to “swallow” that we were doing this at a time when he was not mine.

Bear and me have never had a real relationship, but during our college days he wasn’t in a steady relationship with someone else either.
So it was hard to realize I was taking this bridge, achieving this milestone, and who knows or who knew perhaps I will suffer the consequences and end up trembling in bed.

And yet of all the moments I could have chosen to do this, I do it now.
Now that he is with someone else and can’t be there for me, if I get a panic attack and get worried I got hiv infected.

Maybe that’s the real reason I didn’t write. And the reason I still feel unsure if this is going to be okay.
Sometimes I feel I m only okay because I don’t think about what happened that Thursday.
Which comes down to that I m not okay at all.

And that Lucas was the least of my worries. 

An unexamined life is not worth living

New diary entries are posted on my Facebook page ;
And are published together, here on this blog.

Undocumented Sex | 1996 diary
is the fourteenth chapter to
1996 diary 

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1994 A Performance Project
and “1995-1996; book 2 of my performance project



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One For The Tattoo On The Forehead Department

young-woman-in-black-hat-with-red-lips-on-black-stock-photograph_csp47739598This is a letter to my creativity coach Sara
Before our call I always give her a headsup.

Dear Sara,

Do you remember the iconic rectangular image of a woman’s red lips under a black hat, which was definitely not the photo I used for this blog post but it was the closest I could find?
Or, alternatively, is your mind flooding with an avalanche of 80s imagery where the entire visual art world of both graphic designers as well as photographers seemed to have kind of lost themselves in this thrilling combination, probably creating enough of black-hat red-lips “content” to last us well into the entire 21st century?
Because just like 80s filmers were obsessed with indoor scenes being lit by sun shining through blinds, the static arts (although also obsessed with lighting through blinds) had a thing for the woman with the hat and the lips.
The best was really a woman with a black hat and red lips AND lighted through blinds.
My obsession has been where to focus – yoga, Bon Jovi, diary writing or advocating sex.
Which medium to use: writing/blogging, YouTube, publishing books or showing up in the conversation on social media or real life.
What to monetize if any.
And most importantly, the question of questions and ironically a question that very few of us ever need to answer (rationalizing why it may have taken me 15 years to figure this out):
Who to be?
Which part of my work (which name) and therefor which part of my personality was going to be my professional persona?
Taking the punches but also making the money, and receiving the fame and the glory.
And which part of me was going to be leisure, socializing, fun, and taking down with it any activities associated with it, because they were now reduced to hobby or side-hustle at the most.
Like THE hat photo that popped to mind decades after it were en vogue, I could see it very clearly with my mind’s eye. Yet, probably because I never found that one exact image that had stood out for me vibrantly (I should probably check my agendas if it was cut and pasted in there), the vision who I was and what to do always faded.
I tried to “get” it, I tried to remember it, but because it wasn’t precise, because it wasn’t an absolute exact representation of what it was I was going to do, who I was, with an accuracy that could not be swayed;
The image failed.
Sometimes within days, but sometimes within hours.
And the past week I ve had the feeling the circles got smaller!
From prioritizing YouTube, to writing, to YouTube.
From going all in on Suzanne (my real name) to all in on LS Harteveld (my alterego)
And so on and so forth.
Which is why this time, today, as the vision revealed itself so clearly that just like that ONE photo with the hat, I knew all the other photos Google gave me for “big black hat red lipstick 80s” were NOT it?
That I m going to write that vision out, here, for you!
And I should probably tattoo it on my forehead.
I’m going to warn you, it may seem like nothing much. You’ve said it last time we spoke, that for yoga (for example) I m looking for ways to “teach” it that are different to the career in teaching I used to have;
I m looking for a different framing, but to the outside world it can easily look like the exact same thing as I taught for 15 years.
That’s the story of everything I m going to tell you.
It’s ALL framing.
And as life-giving and big and major this is to me, it could very well be the same thing I came up with before.
But having said all that, this is how I m going to work.
This is who I am.

1. Writing And Being LS Harteveld

80775404_2796264213728586_4106800861752066048_oWhite clothes, blonde hair pulled back, makeup with nude beige lips, that’s me when I m LS Harteveld.
That is how I look 99% of the time.
Reminiscent of Vertigo’s Kim Novak and of course Basic Instinct’s Sharon Stone, the writer Catherine Tramell.
It has been said by many and one of them is me:
I am more LS Harteveld (Lauren) than I am the real me.
Being her is definitely THE priority, the only right decision to make, because not being her would be a violation of my very existence.
So, in practice:
Writing/blogging as LS Harteveld is my priority, straight after brushing my teeth I’d say.
I will not just treat it as my day job, meaning seriously, but really step up to being her the proverbial 24/7. 
LS Harteveld is a writer and speaker, she is not a coach/ service provider and not even an online entrepreneur.
So there is no clear cut monetizable formula, and that is strange. I m so conditioned that if you’re not selling at the end of your blog post or videos, you re basically doing a disservice to your audience.
And not only am I conditioned that way:
I actually, and with my whole heart, believe it.
The total mf-ing discomfort of NOT having anything to sell…. man, that might have been a major contributor too, to why it took so long.
Now that I have overcome that, or know that despite the discomfort I m going to do what I came here to do regardless, I m going with what I ALSO know to be true!
That the number one thing you’re selling, is always you.
The purpose of a blog or a video is never to sell an actual thing but to sell people on an idea, and on  – well- to sell them on you! 
And that?
Oh, that I can do!
So my number one job, hustle, and also the person I will be the most often because it is so automatic,
is being LS Harteveld.

2. Being Suzanne! 

Okay, maybe I have to eat my words that I am Lauren 99% of the time!

Because I am still the girl from the black leather jacket photo from 1995.
And I have actually found a completely new look, for the work or for being there under my real name Suzanne. I call it the Independence Day look or colors, and it was inspired by a 1990 MTV interview from Jon Bon Jovi with Julie Brown. 
It was shot on Independence Day (well, prerecorded in advance) and Julie was sporting a blue dress, a red bolero and a raging crush on Jon!
All things that are inspiring me to “be” myself and actually enjoy it.
Ever since we last spoke, I ve been trying to get my head around how I can have fun being me (real me), and how I can create or recreate a social life, how does my love for yoga and Bon Jovi fit in.
And a series of meltdowns and run-into-walls in June taught me just randomly connecting over those topics, was not going to cut it.
And that the yoga, regardless of how eager I thought I was to return to the mat and start making yoga videos that would combine yoga and Bon Jovi;
That yoga was not going to run itself either.
I didn’t create any yoga videos and I have been yoga free for weeks now….
Just when I thought I was going all in on yoga/ being Suzanne, nothing came from it!
This is probably the biggest Tattoo To The Head part!
The biggest takeaway, the one thing I could have, should have learned years ago, but didn’t:
I am an online creator, and I post immediately..
So videos that require me to first have an offline Bon Jovi yoga routine so I can show up properly prepared?
They’re not going to get made.
It will get stranded in those preparation hours.
I don’t have a daily Bon Jovi yoga routine and months of postponing and start-stopping tell me I’m not going to get one either.
I want to create something, and put it out there the same day. Period. The end.
I do not want to study and practice yoga on my own, before I create videos.
My desire to create and share immediately, also explains why publishing my books is so difficult.
Publishing my books asks me to invest into something that cannot be posted that same day.
There is no short cut there, but just to point out this is not new information.

Gratification on the same day is required.
My idea of doing my own Bon Jovi yoga on my own mat (off-camera) to then create videos and make blogs to share or teach it made it clear the problem was the yoga.
I no longer enjoy doing yoga;
It’s offline, there is no audience, I m not communicating. It’s not social.
So the thing I am going to do now, and I am so so happy about this, is that I am going to do all my yoga on-screen, making videos.
Just like the people watching, doing yoga is not my work.
I m just as stressed out and tensed up from being at my desk as they are.
“I am not your guru” the Tony Robbins documentary on Netflix says.
“I am not your yoga teacher” is what I will say.
I am just someone who creates Bon Jovi inspired yoga videos, and we talk Bon Jovi!
It’s yoga for Bon Jovi fans, and instead of trying to explain what yoga is, we’re going to use the framework already in everybody’s head, which is the Bon Jovi catalog.
And we simply ATTACH the yoga to that!
Starting with first album, first song, Runaway.
A song that was recorded years before the band came into being, by Jon Bon Jovi solo.
The song Runaway was done, it was due!
So in that first 30 minute yoga video Runaway, we re going to explore yoga moves looking for things that were ready years ago.
Poses that feel like home, like you’ve done them a thousand times, even when it is your first time on the mat.
And for one song on that album that was pushed onto them, not written by Bon Jovi, a song that still gives them the shivers if you as much as mention the title;
For that song we’re going to do yoga poses that we are certain do not belong in yoga and something is seriously wrong with them.* 
And I m going to wear red lipstick, and really rock it.
And it will be totally fun and lighthearted, and I m not going to do any yoga other than creating those videos.
I ve changed Sara.
There was a time when I did like doing yoga by myself.
There was a time when I was a yoga teacher, and toyed with being a coach, an online entrepreneur.
And a time when I did not see that publishing my books is going to ask the impossible of me.
Publishing is the one area where I m willing to go the extra mile to get the books that I REALLY want out there.
Such as The Mistress Speaks and my book about Catherine Tramell, Basic Instinct, called “The beach. C.”
I ve changed in now knowing that there is no such thing as having a regular, non-Bon Jovi induced social life as Suzanne, and actually enjoy it.
The only automatic/ group connections I can make are if we can relate over rock music/ Bon Jovi. Other socializing in groups will always be really hard.
Sometimes I ve literally changed.
Sometimes my insight into who I am and what I can or cannot do has changed.
But this feels right.
Working as Lauren.
Playing around as Suzanne.
The 19th of July 2021 feels like my Independence Day.
Maybe I don’t need tattoos for that.

An unexamined life is not worth living

[ * NB
If you’re reading this, and you think:
I would like to subscribe to that channel!
You can.
I normally don’t share my real name or work here, but in this case I ll make an exception because I ve talked about it in such vivid colors, it would feel wrong to not tell you.

Just remember I m Suzanne there, not Lauren, but then I m happy to give you a chance to sign up and see me there.
Subscribe here:
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCXpNMsIFP2U34A0yBKk8PUQ ]


My diaries are available at LULU 
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
is to subscribe to this blog.
Button on this page, probably on the top right.

Or follow my Facebook page
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June broke me and build me tf up in a way nothing else would

Brussels 1993
Jon Bon Jovi Brussels 1993

This is a letter to my creativity coach Sara
Before our call I always give her a headsup.

Dear Sara,

Who knew, who knew! 
I certainly didn’t.
In fact when last time I wrote you, over the moon that I was finally clear on my  calling as my alterego LS Harteveld, an identity that has long been more the real me than the real real me;
I thought this calling for this alterego meant I had figured out my professional life for 50 percent, if not more!
More than 50 percent,  because when I knew “what went here”?

I knew it was also less difficult to figure out “which went there”!
– sexual wealth
– sex for solitary women
– and non-monogamy went here, under LS Harteveld.
Then yoga and Bon Jovi stayed “there”. Under my real name.
And also:
If I was the professional “here”, from the point of mutual exclusiveness it automatically meant my work under my real name would not be professional. It would be on the spectrum between leisure and side-hustle. A hobby.
Perhaps a profitable hobby or one that would make me world famous, but nevertheless; A hobby.
Nothing more.
I was very excited that my calling as LS Harteveld gave me permission to drop the last ambition under my real name. It was all fun and games now.
Or so I thought.
Because do you remember the assignment I got, not these two weeks, but the two weeks prior to that? The one I was supposedly done with, and that had not lead to massive shifts?
It was the assignment to take stock where I was out of sexual integrity.
Where was I sugarcoating, downplaying, or straight-up lying through my fucking teeth in order to keep the peace, not ruffle feathers and basically behave in a way that would not so much as scratch a two-thousand year old patriarchy of female sexual oppression? 
It bombed.
And it bombed hard.
And just like early June’s mind-blowing realization that I have little in common with people who accidentally run into me, connect with me in real life (not connecting to LS Harteveld);
That’s how the final week of June crashed and burned my “leisure” “fun” “hobby” work under my real name. As it turned out I had been out of sexual integrity there.
And now I was in it.
It burned more quickly than a polyester clothing, and all I can say is that it’s a good thing no one was wearing it. 
In fact, I was wearing a proverbial black motorcycle jacket that protects you even when you fall off onto the concrete so I m good.
Just that I realized that there had been things in my life that had needed clearing out and cleaning up, after all.
It was called:
A social life.
A part that had survived the pandemic and that had actually gotten better. It had proven one of those pandemic-proof spots in your social life that you didn’t realize how valuable it was until all else dropped out and this didn’t.
That’s where the bomb dropped.
And I realized;
Thank you.
And that stepping into full sexual and professional integrity here, as LS Harteveld, meant my social life would be cleared out of anything not that.
Anything not in sexual integrity or professional integrity, would be purged from my life.
Not by me, it would just be. Automatically.
It reminded me of the first day I was going to scout for yoga locations, in 2003. I had my first appointment at the end of the day.
My boss asked if I could stay longer, and I said No.
I lost my job right then and there, before I had even seen my first yoga space.
The moment I had determined my professional focus, and I was no longer willing to invest in my job what they had been used to, it blew.
And a similar thing happened now.
So the good news is that I am in total sexual and professional integrity. 
The bad news is that I realize my social life is not compatible with that.
Now in its defense: I already knew that being a writer is a huge strain on your social life too. I ve known that ever since I started writing 15 years ago.
It’s just that the being in sexual integrity part, seems to be the final blow.
So here I am….
Lonely road, Sara.
Lonely road. 
But I can’t remember I have seen her more clearly in my life. 

An unexamined life is not worth living

* Want to work with Sara too? Subscribe for updates on Sara’s upcoming Academy here,
or contact her through her Facebook page for a one-on-one coaching request.


My diaries are available at LULU 
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
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True Romance | 1996 diary

diary 1996
Thursday June 24, 1996

I can’t believe I missed this!

Okay, first of all, this diary entry is going to be a quickie because I m going to the hard rock cafe tonight to test my theory.
And I will keep going to the hard rock cafe twice a week, to see if my theory is as sturdy as I think it is…And I m also going there to numb out this feeling, this pain, that I now realize I ve been carrying around for how long?

When was the moment I fell in love with Nikki, the bootleg trader from England?
When was the moment “but you don’t even know what he looks like” was more than a hollow phrase to delude myself?
Or reassure myself.

Twice a week hard rock cafe, I don’t care how bad it is for my productivity.
Or my wallet.
I don’t even care about the state of shock I m going to be in when my theory proves to be wrong and I end up in bed with another man.
Because the theory is this:
I am sex repellent.

And the reason is simple:
I am sex repellent because I am already in love with two men: Bear (of course!) and Nikki.
Just that I didn’t think writing each other counted.

And with Bear, the sex is so infrequent, it’s just not healthy for a young woman like me. I mean it’s probably not healthy for anyone, but I can attest that for a young woman it’s not.

This realization, that not seeing each other was not and probably never has been, enough to prevent me from falling in love with Nikki, puts the hard rock cafe gatherings in a new light.
Because there are two guys there with whom I flirt a lot, and yet nothing ever happens. Or “nothing”? Well, we do this:
– flirting as if we want to set the ceiling on fire
– touching
– rubbing. Rubbing! I mean with my butt to a passing penis, and I ve felt a leg between my legs from the front. It’s honestly so sexual that I could come if I wanted to.

Most of these incidents were from before the place was closed for 6 weeks or something, because of unclear circumstances.
It’s still not as busy as it was before that, so there is less chance to rub each other when passing.

So I have this with two men, they’re both in their 20s just like me. One is blonde, one dark, and they even know each other. I don’t know how, but they don’t rival or anything. At one point they even sat next to me on the bench, one on either side.

I ve been at the point of thinking about nicknames for them, for in this diary. But I never have because I think we should at least kiss, before I give them the honor of having their own nickname and their own story line in my diary.

New theory is that will not happen!

I think subconsciously, I ve known I was in love with Nikki. I knew that together with Bear, that meant my heart was more than spoken for, and dating other men was pointless.
That I would not enjoy the sex and that in all likeliness?
They have not been the ones sabotaging and vetoing our flirting from becoming more.

I have.


diary 1996
Saturday June 26

true-romance-3Nikki is 29! 
And he’s from California! 
I can’t believe I called him but I did. At his work. I have the number because the packages are sent from his store, or at least the store where he works. But now I know it is his store!

I always imagined him working there a bit like that guy in True Romance, although that was a comic store. Working in a record store has got to be the coolest thing in the world.

I called him there today, on a Saturday. Even though I knew that was definitely the worst day to call. But yesterday I cried all day and I just needed to speak to him.
Thursday night was crap.
Nothing bad happened or anything, but that’s the point: The two guys were there, and we had an okay time at the hard rock cafe, yet I felt so numb inside. I had been desperate to numb out the feelings of having fallen in love with Nikki over us writing letters.
And to repeat going out and drinking tomorrow.
Now that I knew what I was suffering from, I prescribed myself twice a week of alcohol, hard rock music and male company.

Until I sat there and the numbness around my heart was even worse than the pain I had felt. Not only was I no longer interested in the people there or in the two guys, I could not even reach my feelings for Bear. Yet every time I thought of Nikki, I felt a sharp pain. I could feel tears welling up of how fucked up the situation was, and I left.
There was a full moon on my bike ride home. 

Like I said Friday was a bad day. I felt so love sick, even though no one broke up with me.
All I wanted was to be normal, have someone to hold me and call me his and call him mine. 
Normal shit. Shit I normally would not want for the world.

Nikki has a girlfriend, so that made it extra hopeless. Aside from him living in England and me here.
Yesterday night I decided I would call him today to tell him I had fallen in love. I just could not reply to his letter, as if nothing had changed. 
It felt dishonest, and as if everything I would write would be a lie.

And I also needed someone to tell me it would be alright. But of course I knew I risked having someone tell me he did not have time for me, and be irritated I had called.
Yet as soon as I decided I would do it, I calmed down and had a good night sleep.

So I called him this morning and it was so cool! 
Wow…. bad news is I am more in love than ever!

He has a really beautiful voice, but he’s not English!! He doesn’t have a British accent and so that’s when we got into this conversation about where he was from, and I was a bit upset that he had not told me he wasn’t English but he just said:
“You didn’t ask!” and laughed.
He has a wonderful laugh!

So although there was an unspoken agreement that I would not call again, it was so great to hear his voice and speak to him. And I told him I had fallen in love, and felt so bad over it, like I had fucked things up.
But he just said something like that it didn’t matter. But in a sweet way, not a mean way. It was clear he wanted to keep writing each other.
And he mentioned taking a cold shower which made me laugh, even though I was crying at that moment because I was so relieved he wasn’t angry.

I don’t know how everything will go from here. I have his wonderful letter to reply to, maybe I ll do that this weekend or maybe I will savor it a bit and postpone to next week.
But I will not be going to the hard rock cafe anymore. It is pointless, since I m not interested in other men any way. And Bear too, I don’t feel anything at this moment. I m completely neutral about the whole thing. I don’t identify as the person he has sex with, I feel I am a friend he occasionally visits.
And he may or may not.
It’s nice to not feel that involved. Having one man with whom emotions have run rampant is more than enough.

Nikki didn’t use any sex words, I think there must have been customers in the shop browsing. I could hear he was doing things, which gave the impression he had crying girls calling him all the time and that it wasn’t something that upset nor even surprised him.
I think he was holding the receiver between shoulder and ear.

When our conversation became lighter and I knew we’d be okay, Nikki said:
“Do you remember what you wrote, about what you do with guys…? To get to know them?”
“Meet their dick!” I yelled, relieved because I assumed we were flirting now.
“Just a sec,” he said, putting the receiver down to help someone pay for their record.
It was so nice to hear him talk to a real customer! 
They talked about the record, and I could hear the tinkle of the cash register. And then he was back. 

“Yeah, that thing,” he said to announce he was back. “Well, you don’t even know that about me. Could be awful!”
I laughed: “I seriously doubt that, but thank you for your concern.”
“My pleasure,” he said, as if he had really done something remarkable. And he had! I feel so much better. As miserable as I was yesterday and as bad as Thursday night was, I feel I could conquer the world right now. 

“And take that cold shower,” were his last words.
“I will,” were mine.


An unexamined life is not worth living

New diary entries are posted on my Facebook page ;
And are published together, here on this blog.

True Romance | 1996 diary
is the thirteenth chapter to
1996 diary 

Find the subscription button on this page.

1994 A Performance Project
and “1995-1996; book 2 of my performance project



My diaries are available at LULU
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
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I received my sexual and professional calling

Catherine Tramell (Sharon Stone) in the movie Basic instinct 1992 would become one of the most profound aspects of my sexuality as well as my identity as a writer

This is a letter to my creativity coach Sara
Before our call I always give her a headsup.

Dear Sara,

This post is based on a copy of my previous “Dear Sara” post, which has the added “benefit” that I inadvertently get a glance of what I wrote last time.
And I saw I ve come back on so much of it…
It was an extensive blogpost that must have taken me 5,6 hours, and to see it was so off in many ways, makes it seem like a waste of time.
I also just spent 50 minutes going back and forth through my notes for today’s blogpost, as well as rereading the last one.
50 Minutes!
But I also see that if I start at the beginning, the first topic I wrote you about last time (Summer of Love), and let it unfold from there;
That everything I want to tell you in this letter will unfold by itself.
So let’s.

summer of love                

This one still stands.
We came to the conclusion that I, just like many of us, am still dependent on a partner to validate my sexual identity and generate my sexual energy.
People like my lover are running around with their pockets filled with sexual gold, figuratively speaking.
But because it’s not real money other people, and that includes me, think it’s okay to live off their wealth.

And may even demand they become monogamous! I mean wtf, right?
First you let someone pay the bill and then you rob them of their income.
My decision was this year would be my summer of love, and that still stands.
I want to fill my own pockets.
It’s called a sexual odyssey and it’s a series that runs here on this blog, and my facebook page.
The absolute most important conclusion so far is that my creativity and writing in particular, are my default sexuality. That’s how I fill my pockets.
Not physical sex.
If I was to go for 40 days without writing, the effects would be severe, whereas I ve gone without sex with a partner for months or years and I was fine.
Another thing that I might as well share immediately! Since I want to keep this a short letter!
Is that I ve received my sexual calling.
It was through a dream where I told someone I respect highly, a theory of how sexual wealth is often not acknowledged. And how it is entirely normalized to live off other people’s sexual wealth instead of developing your own.
And how this plays out throughout marriages as well, because the sexual bank accounts are not properly managed, nor even acknowledged.
I told her, this business coach I respect the very highest, that you could use all vocabulary from everyday psychology as well as investment banking and personal finance, and you could apply them to sex and a whole new world would open up for you.
You would wonder how we managed to miss this.
Rereading the previous letter I sent to you, I encountered a book title from a book I was not going to write.
It had a word in there, that is one of those words from psychology, but applied to sex.
Sexual integrity
This book title was:
Reclaim your sexual integrity by quitting monogamy today!
We learn that No means No, but as long as we are not allowed to say yes if we want to have sex (and so does the other party) we are no longer in sexual integrity.
But you can also apply the trick of adding the word sexual to terms like:
Capital, wealth, resilience, revenues.
And just like with money, the hardest is getting to your first 100K;
That is the level where you have to overcome the hurdles of your past, and whatever oppression you experience for being sexual.
But once you’re past your 100K mark, feeling that wealthy or secure sexually, then it becomes easy.
Just like self-made entrepreneurs, you know you could go bankrupt and you would build it all again.
That the assets can be taken away from you just like a partner or ideal lover can leave.
But someone who’s hit the 100K sexual mark, will rebuild their sex life. Always.
Someone like that will never believe their sex life is dependent on that one person. Well it is dependent on one person; Themselves! Ha ha ha.
I didn’t say that much in my dream, it was shorter but a coherent story came out that I cannot remember ever telling before. It was as if the topic came out “fully grown”.
The coach looked at me, and said I should go tell THIS to the world, and how she would set it all up with her clientele, and we’d run a program together.
I woke up and knew I had found my calling.
And also that a how long, four? Five?  month period where I thought I would start working under my real name and let Lauren Harteveld be just a worksop, a hobby project;
That had come to an end!
This topic about non-monogamy and sexual wealth was not meant to be shared with the world under my real name. I would lose tremendous momentum, and get caught up in the hiccups of crossovers between my private or past professional life, and this new sexual calling.
So my conclusion in my last letter to you, that I wasn’t going to write that book “Unbound” was correct, because 2,5 weeks ago I was still going all in under my real name and if that book gets written it will indeed not get written under that name.
My sexual calling is as Lauren Harteveld.
And although I do not have a business model it does make this a professional account. For the first time ever.
I am the writer and speaker Lauren Harteveld.
I still feel I will never be a coach and business owner Lauren Harteveld, but (contrary to what I said in the prior letter, where Lauren Harteveld was merely a hobby)
Lauren Harteveld does speak. This is more than a writing-only account.
I am very comfortable speaking about these topics and I will reboot my YouTube channel which I left about two years ago.
Lauren Harteveld is my main gig, and my real name has become the leisure account.
My work as Lauren Harteveld is to show up in the conversation about sexual wealth, non-monogamy,  and sexual integrity.
Although I am still frustrated I ve experienced so much resistance publishing my (own) books, a shift has taken place in how important I find them.
I m no longer letting this publishing hurdle stop my other work.
This conclusion is not entirely new, I ve talked about this before. But what I knew then was that postponing going all in on your work until the book is done, means you re saying your worth or credibility is in your book.
When my worth is in being present, and joining the conversation. 
I am not defined by a book people may or may not read and may or may not like. The message is simply too important. So I knew that part a while back.
But the reason I m even more “relaxed” today, about not being as far with the books as I wanted, is because I now see books as a medium, are so not me.
I live in the day to day conversation, and like this letter shows, even a blogpost I wrote 2,5 weeks ago feels entirely outdated. So much changes all of the time, most of all me! 
I m not someone who will come up with one system and one book, that they will expand on for the rest of their lives. 
My value is in BEING in the conversation NOW!
Books are what is left of you when you’re dead.
Or not.
When I m dying they will be the last thing on my mind.
After the dream I woke up and changed my bio.
This is what it said:
LS Harteveld
Advocate for sexual wealth, sex for solitary women & non-monogamy
Current diaries:
1996 series, The Covid Diaries
& NEW: 2021 A Sexual Odyssey
It felt like a milestone.
It WAS, a milestone.

An unexamined life is not worth living

* Want to work with Sara too? Subscribe for updates on Sara’s upcoming Academy here,
or contact her through her Facebook page for a one-on-one coaching request.


My diaries are available at LULU 
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
is to subscribe to this blog.
Button on this page, probably on the top right.

Or follow my Facebook page
/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

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First results | A Sexual Odyssey

2021 A Sexual Odysseytrailer-maleficent-2-1562670639
BLACK HOLE (day 1)
Tuesday June 15

What did not help on day one of my sexual odyssey of broadening my sexual taste (or at least: finding some sexual nourishment other than very occasionally sleeping with the man I am in love with),
was that I woke up after nightmares of being in bed with someone I did not like.

It had been a very explicit dream where all my senses were registering the experience, and I was repulsed by each and every one of them.
Yet I toughened up because I knew I had chosen this. That I wanted more sex and needed to start somewhere

Which may explain why I felt sick of the project today already.
And I still do. There is not a bone in my body that thinks yesterday’s decision to broaden my taste, get extra sexual nourishment, was a good one nor an appealing one.

No matter how often I tell myself, as I did in yesterday’s blogpost already, that I DO NOT have to sleep with other men, and that this is an exploration of what I want and need;
I keep running images and experiences in my head that gross me out.

I did not do any of my physical or self-care routines. I didn’t move my body, I ate brownies all day. In my defense I had not bought them, they were a gift. And they were really good and I really enjoyed them.

But just a few days ago I would never have overate, and I would have cycled and kept my house clean.
All those little things that make you feel light, playful, sexual.
And healthy.

Instead of the discovery of new possibilities, the first day of 2021 A Sexual Odyssey seems to mark the loss of the only world I knew.
A vacuum, a black hole.

How do people do this?

0f40b7e3720854246931cdc787ef6ae62021 A Sexual Odyssey
Thursday June 17

I dived in, eager to share some good news! 
Only to then read the original project definition, as I had set for myself in the introductory blogpost.
and be disappointed that I probably didn’t have any good news after all. Just a better understanding of why my sexuality has become this problem.

The blogpost does not contain research questions but there are two definitions:

To only go for the highest level of sex, with a partner that you are deeply in love with, is
– in particular when  you see that partner only occasionally – not healthy.

A girl needs to eat!

Quickly followed by:

A quest to becoming versatile. Learning to nurture myself,
and my physical sexual experience to whatever level it is I am comfortable with.

It is not until the final paragraph, that I give myself a little more room to wiggle:

The goal of this second sexual odyssey is to actively start looking for ways to nourish myself, sexually.
And whether that is by real sexual experiences, like in those years before I found the man who marked the end of my first sexual odyssey.

Or whether I will find another way to stay nourished;
I ll find that out along the way.

The good news was, that I think I found why my sexual energy still feels intact. I don’t feel depleted, despite having very little sex. That sex is high quality, but I don’t think it is because of that, that I don’t seem to fall prey to dryness, frustration or dullness that to me a lack of sex could logically be causing.

I m okay.

And even in 2020 when I didn’t have all the way sex at all, and only did things (with the same partner) where I could keep my pants on, 2020 is not a year where I thought I had “lost it” or something.
I could handle going without sex, and I always have.

In my single years I called them Panda years, and I had two of them. Two 12 month periods where I didn’t have any sex, or once I had a half nude kissing session on a couch. But no real sex, and it was deliberate even.
When I was at 7, 8 months I thought: 
“I could make a project out of it!”
And never once did such a project feel like a period of abstinence.

You know why? 
Because, when I say “project”? I say WRITING.
So I write about not having sex and being in a panda year. Just like I m writing now, about my sexual odyssey.

The good news I wanted to share, the thing I had found out in the first days of this project, was that my creativity in general, and writing in particular, is how I generate energy.
That is why not having sex doesn’t impact me that much.
Yet if I would economize on writing or would stop writing, the effect would be immediate and in all likeliness, disastrous. 

I have found 3 reasons why writing, not physical sex, may actually Be my default sex.

Which would explain why my projects about not having sex are so easy to do;
They’re an alibi to write often, and to think a lot!
Which is the first reason why writing may be my default sex:

I am sapiosexual

My day-to-day connection to people, you could say the garden variety mental sex I engage in as often as possible, is an intellectual one. 

Yet with the men I had sex with in my single years, or the before-current man years, I usually didn’t have that. Not with the majority, and the others were the ones whom I remember fondest. With whom things could have ended differently.

The reason I had nightmares the first night after starting this project, and the reason I have basically given up on the idea of restoring that single life I used to have, 
is because I do not want to go back to having sex with those men I did not have a mental or intellectual click with.

It took me about 25 years or something, before I realized I was sapiosexual.
The reason it took so long was because I have a very strong physical connection with the men I fell in love with . I have often fallen in love at first sight.
So no way I could have logically known what their intellect was.

But in hindsight I think the reason it clicked, and that I remember a man like that to this day even if we never chatted long or are choosing not to see each other, the reason was the mental click.
That yes, the physical connection was there first, but it was backed up by our minds even if it was just a few hours. That’s the reason I remember them.

Just that I forgot all the men who halted me in my steps, and then there was no mental click.

Now, it is very clear, that the men I fell in love with were very intelligent and that it was this aspect that made it stick. 

And what is writing other than an intellectual conversation with Self? 

So the first reason my writing supplements sex is because its self-reflection is a satisfying substitute for the mental click I have with my preferred sex partners.
And it does so more, than having a physical partner with whom there is no intellectual click.

As I noticed the first night, that gives me nightmares.

I write with Nikki

The second reason why writing, not physical sex, may actually be my default sex, is that I write with Nikki.

For the first time in my life, I am corresponding with someone who might have been a lover, but under different circumstances. In the story of my 1996 diary I call him Nikki.
Perhaps because it’s not our intention to become lovers, we’re both trained writers, and because we’re both deliberate in our relationships, it worked out.

We’ve been writing about 9 months now I think.

Nikki is definitely a very important part of why I m doing so well, despite not having sex in real life.

In fact: He may be the reason I gave up on ever having to do anything without this level of mental intimacy.

He could be the reason there will never be a second time I have a single sex life.
And why it is very unlikely that I will ever have sex with men I m not in love with nor have a strong mental connection with.

What my lover, I call him Bear in the 1996 story, what Bear did for physical intimacy, and I discovered what sex really feels like when you re in love, that is what Nikki did for mental intimacy.

Both men changed the foundation of my sex life.

creativity = sex

The third reason why writing, not physical sex, is my default sex, is because creativity equals sex.

This is ageless wisdom.
Almost all writers and artists, at some point go through a phase of exploring this truth, and make it their own. From the pain of heartbreak and the boundless productivity of that time when you’re in love and all your art is about that person;
To the inexplicable urge to counter sickness and death with two things and two things only:
And creation.

Sex and creativity are linked in so many ways, that it is no surprise that on day three of my sexual odyssey I know that my default form of sex IS creativity.
Mental creativity of the intellect.
Creative creation in the form or writing, but also performance, “being” a different person. 

Over the years the situations that scared me shitless, as if I was to face the death of me!
Things that were:
Radiated a passive aggressive pressure to be normal.

It were places where I felt that both the power of creation, as well as the power of sexuality, were not appropriate. That you had to leave those powers at the door before you could enter.

That I am typing this is only because I got out in time.

And that I want to explore my sexuality, is because I want the discernment, to either never go back into such a toxic place again. A place where life is denied.

Or to go back in fully armed.

An unexamined life is not worth living

First results
Is the second post of what I expect to be a long running,
yet very slow moving series:
“A Sexual Odyssey”

The sexual experiences themselves will be described within the narrative of
my 1996 diary.

You can follow both this 1996 diary as well as the “meta posts” on the Sexual Odyssey
on Facebook or subscribe to this blog.
Find the subscription button on this page.



My diaries are available at LULU
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
is to subscribe to this blog.
Button on this page, probably on the top right.

Or follow my Facebook page
/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

Nederlands blog:

A girl has gotta eat | A Sexual Odyssey

still from 2001 a space odyssee
still from 2001 a space odyssey

This weekend I had the best dinner I ever had in my life.
And although I do not consider myself particularly knowledgeable in the field of gastronomy;
I am experienced.

On my mother’s side they learned me the nurturing qualities of home cooked food and they were pastry bakers as well, so I can definitely taste the difference between prepackaged and freshly baked cake and cookies.

And my father used to take us to fancy restaurants. I would not say “all the time”, but definitely as early as the 80s or 90s, special occasions were celebrated by going to a Michelin star restaurant.

And yet I did not get the best dinner of my life until this weekend.
Home cooked by someone who would probably be way too modest to ever agree with my assessment, and on a moment I was not chasing it. Which is a lesson in itself, obviously.

But something else also surfaced;
That a journey I have been on for 15 years, which was the quest to the perfect sexual affair, was completed six years ago. And has been enjoyed since.

Aside from the usual “it’s about the journey not the destination”- wisdom,
the journey really had been worth it.
My peak experience, or what I know to be sexually feasible, would never have been reached if it had not been for giving my sex life top priority for years, before I found the man who would “bring it home” so to speak.

If I would be with another man I am in love with, which did not happen since then (the being together part, the falling in love part does still happen every now and then), then I would give that liaison a very high chance of being an equally satisfying experience.
Or maybe not, but then so be it.

I still see my sexual savior occasionally but I never know if there will be a next time. We are not in an affair that has obligations. Every time can be the last time, and therefor every time is also the first time.
But there is a realistic chance it will happen again, so that’s great.
To have this sexual experience of the best dinner, on repeat.

But Darling!
Lauren, Sweetie?
What HAVE you been eating the rest of the time?! Sexually that is. Because we all know that too little sex, is a dead ringer for overeating in the physical sense…

Sexually I have not been eating anything on the side. Just the high class fancy dinners.
So I have been starving.
Totally unhealthy situation.

My sexual malnutrition was also a direct result of the sex being so good!
I had found what I had set out to find, all those years ago…
And because I wanted to keep myself exclusive to only that, I had started identifying as someone who only had that sex. Just like Marilyn Monroe only drank champagne, I only had that type of premium sex.

“I am no longer going to do that again”, I would say
That referring to all the sexual experiences had been:
An adventure.
A good time.

A gamble.
Taking a chance at winning but with the certain outcome of knowing you played the game!

And ever since I had found my preferred chef, I never even considered going back to having partners where sex had been about giving, way more than it had been about receiving.

Now I see that is no way to live.
To o
nly go for the highest level of sex, with a partner that you are deeply in love with, is – in particular when  you see that partner only occasionally – not healthy.
A girl needs to eat!

Which is why I have decided to go on my second Sexual Odyssey, because I already counted my quest for the perfect affair that started in 2006 as my first sexual odyssey.
So this is the second; A quest to becoming versatile. Learning to nurture myself, and my physical sexual experience to whatever level it is I am comfortable with.

Even if I cannot or don’t want to, have “all the way”- sex, then that’s okay too.

The goal is not to be fully functioning sexually with a wide variety of men, but to find out how I can stretch my boundaries, broaden my taste.
To “acquire my taste”, even.
Acquired taste is a term used in gastronomy to illustrate some tastes need to grow on you, you can’t dismiss them immediately.

Olives, are a food that is an acquired taste for me.
But oysters and mussels and snails, are food I would never try.
So just like with food, the goal is definitely not to experience or try things that do not appeal to me. But to be less rigid in my self-imposed monogamy.

The goal of this second sexual odyssey is to actively start looking for ways to nourish myself, sexually.

And whether that is by real sexual experiences, like in those years before I found the man who marked the end of my first sexual odyssey.
Or whether I will find another way to stay nourished;
I ll find that out along the way.

But a girl has gotta eat.

An unexamined life is not worth living

A girl has gotta eat
Is the first post of what I expect to be a long running,
yet very slow moving series:
“A Sexual Odyssey”

The sexual experiences themselves will be described within the narrative of
my 1996 diary.

You can follow both this 1996 diary as well as the “meta posts” on the Sexual Odyssey
on Facebook or subscribe to this blog.
Find the subscription button on this page.



My diaries are available at LULU
New books will be added.

The best way to receive updates on when these books are ready,
is to subscribe to this blog.
Button on this page, probably on the top right.

Or follow my Facebook page
/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

Nederlands blog: