A Hard Worker (NSFW)| 1996 diary

31191650695_7d0698e5a3_bPS update after sending out yesterday’s blog: I’m doing great!
Take my word for it or read the tweet here.
And now let’s go back in time: 

diary 1996
Wednesday June 2, 1996

I m writing here, on Wednesday night, with a large cup of coffee without cookies. Without Dutch biscuits with butter and chocolate sprinkles. Even without two white toast with butter and salt:
A non-sugary treat I allow myself to have, if I have cravings for something that comforts me.

I ll tell you the whole story in a moment, but talking about cravings: I have never been so aware of how often I need food to calm me down.
To deal with the anxiety, a feeling that something is not right. Or that I am not right. Or that I did something wrong or offended someone.
Deal with the feeling I am failing.

Ever since I know I want to lose the weight, the habitual eating has disappeared. That was the easy part, of course.
Except now you really notice it when the sugar served a purpose!

For the first weeks when I found myself in the cabinet to make something with sugar and chocolate, and preferably with a crisp bite, (I don’t drink my calories, I munch them) I would still go on and have it.
But now I resist.
Often successfully, like tonight when I write this with just a cup of coffee even though I would love to have something that numbs.

And I attribute this ability to say No to a pair of pants that I have here, hanging next to my desk.
They’re Marlene Dietrich pants, from 1989.

I know because I wore them on my first date with Bear. They were my first pair of adult pants, and not jeans.
And I wore them on the date where I asked him if he wanted to become my lover.
At least for one time, to lose my virginity.

I didn’t say for how long, and also didn’t promise anything. It was clear I was just explaining what had happened, as a single.
And that it just didn’t work, to be single and lose your virginity.
And that I was now trying something new:

But he got that he needed to do more than just put it in, so to speak.
And ultimately we’ve basically been together ever since. Or not together-together. But lovers.

The adult date (asking him to become my lover) and the adult pants, went hand in hand.

A while ago I “summoned” my young 16 year old self, mostly to adopt her productive rhythm.
But also because I gained a lot of weight since then. And 16 year old me, was very thin yet ate everything she wanted.
It has not brought an overnight fix of my life, unfortunately, but small changes and shifts. Different food choices, that sort of thing.
I try not to drink or go out during the week or Sunday night, because my 16 year old self wouldn’t either.

But last Sunday I did go out.
And I had the best evening ever at the hard rock cafe.
It was as if everybody was feeling sexy and funny and the energy was just amazing.
There were two men with whom I think I ll one day have sex with. Two! The one with whom I have been flirting for months now, and there was a new guy and that was also really great.

But I drank a few beers, and had many many bitterballen (a Dutch snack) and was home around midnight.
It was a very, very slow Monday….

To not let it go to waste I started sorting through two boxes of clothing I had not even bothered unpacking.
I ve been living here for almost two years now.
But they were clothes I had not fit in for years, so why bother.

Last Monday I unpacked them, assessed the weight I had when I wore them, and then sorted them accordingly.
I ended up with five different stacks.

The final one was the weight I had when I was 16, 17.
So the time I met Bear.
And it had the Marlene Dietrich pants.

Instead of folding it, and leaving it on that inspirational final pile of clothes for when I was petite, I put it on a hanger and hung it next to my desk.

And I look at it every time I want to go for biscuits with chocolate, because I feel lousy and need something to comfort me.
To take the edge off….

The bad news is: Looking at the size 6 pants you wore 6,5 years ago to a date with the man who would turn out to be the love of your life, and who would never be yours, does not take the edge off.

But they remind me why I want this.

Losing weight until I am the same as in December 1989,
symbolizes that I get to start over again.


diary 1996
Thursday June 3, 1996

It went so quickly, but I think I hit rock bottom tonight.
My anxiety is eating me alive, I m so scared.

I m paranoid people will find out about me and Bear. And even more if I think it will happen because I am not careful enough with whom I tell.
I feel like scratching my own skin with my nails, to externalize the horror I feel inside.

One thing it did do, is explain to me why I gained so much weight over the years.
Now that i m careful with what I eat, the reason I was eating in the first place has surfaced.

The reason I fit into size 6 pants when I asked Bear to be my lover, and to be the one to lose my virginity with, and I only gained weight year after year since, is because I am not cut out for this.
To be a secret girlfriend all those years.
First because I didn’t want people to know, then because we had gotten used to not telling anyone and he didn’t want girls to know because he had other girlfriends too.
Keeping our affair between the two of us, gave it something extra special.

Secrecy started long before Bear had a real girlfriend and long before he moved in with her.

As did the eating.

It was no accident I fit in size 6 Marlene Dietrich pants, and the only thing I was scared of was to get AIDS.
Which was already a lot to deal with, when you re a virgin.

But as long as I used condoms I managed to get it under control.
The anxiety attacks disappeared.
Under layers of fat and kilos extra body weight.

I still have the weight. Nothing changed. But this Thursday night it is clear what purpose it served.
I craved for food so very much. I have resisted it, and decided to let the pain of anxiety just come.
Maybe I knew it held a lesson, and I wanted to know what was going on. Why I was feeling so rotten.

This is the first time I see that hiding my sexuality, and what I had with Bear, was my default. That I have always been ashamed of it.

I wish I was more like him. I wish I owned it, like he has all those years.

And he has not gained even an ounce.

What a mess.


diary 1996
Saturday June 5, 1996

For weeks now I m watching what I eat.
For months I m cycling.
Before that for half a year I walked.
And yet the weight stuck to me, defying every rule in the book that your weight had something to do with what you ate.

I was not on a diet, I still ate more than most.
But I ate significantly less than I used to, and I moved around way more.
So just when I started wondering if this was just my new body, I got this insight into why I had gained all the kilos.

Being ashamed of my sexuality, and of being with a man I m not in a relationship with.
Being ashamed he’s now living with his girlfriend.
And I still don’t know how to respond or deal with that. It’s not like I m okay with all that overnight, but it did help to know what the reason was.

And today I suddenly connected with my old body, with my old self, and I knew I would lose all the weight.
No problem.
Even when the past half year nothing had changed, I suddenly knew (and I know) it will drop off easily.
My old body will come back in no time.

I was so surprised by this sudden insight, that I even thought:
“Oh! I have to make bikini photos of my current body quickly! Before it’s too late!”

Suddenly it became very urgent to document this beautiful bigger body because it would soon be gone, and not be back ever again.

I don’t know how the shame stuff will pan out. I can’t believe it’s gone or anything, but I feel pounds lighter already.
I still don’t know what caused it either, but I just know they will drop off.

First the kilos drop, then the shame?
Or the other way around?
I don’t know how it will go but they will go. Just like that.


diary 1996
Tuesday June 8, 1996

Bear came by! 
It was the first time since we had the long and intense session that basically left me so speechless, confused and a bit heartbroken to be honest, that I had to write it all down to Nikki.
I couldn’t find the words to write in my diary.

So this was the first time Bear and me saw each other, but it really wasn’t that big a deal to me anymore.
Writing Nikki has helped me to clarify what happened and appreciate the good, and Bear had picked up calling me every now and then.
So things had already normalized when he asked if he could come over this afternoon.

Just that I had been stalling getting to my (paid) work the entire morning, and had been tooling around with my own manuscripts and stuff.
His call was like a wake-up call that I should shift gears and get to work!
But I would be with Bear of course.

“Well I m still in my bathing robe,” I said.
“Give me half an hour, and you can come by.”
I had time to shower and shave my armpits and the rest would just have to be whatever it was. I wasn’t in the mood for sex, anyway.
But he was!

It was so funny because I told him I had written Nikki about us, and he wanted to read the letter immediately. I knew that he was excited and not angry that I had told someone else about us. 
So I got the letter and let him read it.
He already knew I wasn’t horny and wanted to get to my work. So things were very relaxed. I got him a coffee, and we were hanging on the couch.

So Bear started reading the letter and I threw my legs over his legs, and moved until I was horizontally with my hips on his lap and he automatically started rubbing my thigh and making his way to my pussy through my jeans.
Meanwhile reading my letter, and there were a few words which he apparently found exciting, and he said those out loud. With a big smile, and an extra strong push or deliberate rub against my pussy (behind jeans).
They were:
“Our way”
“It was absolutely magical.”

Of course I agreed with him that they were exciting, because I had written it myself. So I knew which parts of the letter they were.
He was touching me but it wasn’t on my clit, it was next to it. “More to the left,” I said.
And he was irritated but jokingly. Because I was the one who had just stated that she didn’t want sex:
“Then take your pants off!” he said.
So I did, and his fingering got serious as he still took the time to finish up on the letter as well, and then we started kissing and I sat up so that I could take his penis out of his pants and give him a blowjob.

As fancy and meaningful our last sex has been, that’s how easy and normal it was this time. It was bread and butter sex, with the exception that I was still not that horny so that I was not very consistent with what I wanted.
If I gave him a blowjob, I had cooled off myself by the time we were doing something else.
There were a lot of moments like that, when my horniness was just a whimper and you had to move fast or it would all dry up and cool off.

That’s when I started noticing something which I had not noticed before. Which is saying something because we’ve been doing this for over 6 years now:
How hard he works.
That every time I cool off, he tries something new. Something unexpected, that is exactly tailored to the moment. So today it were slightly goofy things. Whereas he can also be kinky, or even romantic. 
We did 69 and I sat on top!
Oh, I almost forgot to tell, but man, talking about “exposed”. That was exposed! And he was exposed too of course. I wasn’t really sure how far he wanted me to take that…. If he wanted something anal too.
We have never talked about that sort of thing, I should ask him some time.

We rarely do or have done 69, so that already made this afternoon’s bread and butter sex worthy of remembrance. But during fucking, oh man, it was just like that first time again a few months ago.
My pussy and my body were craving him. Clinging. Coming. I wanted to entirely melt together.

But I do owe it to him, because I was not that into it and he had to work for it.
And it was the first time I noticed this, how comfortable he is when he has to work in bed. He’s not angry or irritated at all.
And I wanted to be like him.
I want to be able to do that too.

I want to be that sexual, but also really versatile and be able to make it nice for the both of us.
Return the favor! That I have ideas about things we can do. Even when I m not aroused enough for fucking or don’t want to come or have real sex myself.
That I can be as much fun, and just have a good time together you know….
Sex with him is always different, because he makes it so. But I want to be in it too.

When we were done, he took the condom off and we snuggled up in a full body hug.
“I learned this is good after sex,” I said about us lying together in each others arms.
“We always do this,” he answered savoring it, with his eyes closed.
As if it didn’t matter why it was good.

And it didn’t. 


An unexamined life is not worth living

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

A Hard Worker (NSFW)| 1996 diary
is the twelveth 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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Button on this page, probably on the top right.

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My first response to a Covid vaccination is to destroy all my work


Before I begin let me get one thing straight:
I am pro vaccinations.
Just like with anesthetics my response to vaccination is a confident:
“Give me everything you’ve got!”
Although living exclusively in the Netherlands for over 20 years that has been restricted to Hepatitis  (2 shots) and Tetanus.
Vaccinations which were in all likeliness given under the skin, and vaccinations which were indeed:
*dramatic silence*

Rusty staplers

Being stabbed in the upper arm with a potato peeler

I could setup equally sarcastic remarks for the location I received my Covid vaccination (a tent internationally referred to as “UN-like style”, setup on the country side between live stock);
The cue routing (a zigzag of textile rope that I expect could be electrified when called for);
And the effect of having to be without your face mask for 15 minutes, sitting on a chair with dozens of people, in a tent. After 15 months of being drenched in the dangers of aerosols and how it, I don’t know, kind of mattered that you tried your best to not get Covid!

Call me stupid but I thought being with dozens of people in a tent was the kind of situation where for the past 15 months, you were strongly advised to self-quarantine yourself for ten days.
Not a government funded MANDATORY bonus chance to get infected with Covid on your way out after vaccination.

But less is more!
Even if all those secondary things had unexpectedly been to my liking, I would probably have been disappointed in my ability to be even remotely okay with this vaccination.

Now to again simplify the different responsibilities and what-the-fuck-went-wrongs here, I would like focus on  one thing. 
False expectations.

Because in the Netherlands, as soon as testing for Covid started, reports on people experiencing pain when they got tested came out. Phrases like “horrible”, “never again”, and even people with a high tolerance for pain said they found it disturbing.
So the fact that after vaccination, everybody’s heart was overflowing with joy and gratitude for their vaccination, could therefor in my opinion only mean it was less painful and less intrusive than their test.

And the information from the government too, was tailored to screening for physical contra-indications for the Covid shot.
As far as mental conditions went, it asked if you ever fainted during vaccination.

Which was of course, “No”.
But in hindsight this could have been because those vaccinations had indeed been pinpricks and had not been given in the apocalyptic setting of a red cross war zone tent. I could just see the imaginary trenches, and one pony in front of the tent was constantly on his side and had visible difficulty getting up.
But war is equally hard, on humans and animals alike!

So the questionnaire in no way suggested that you would suffer any psychological damage,
nor that there were any mental health issues to take into account before setting foot on the set of Contagion.

Then why do I want to destroy all my work?
All my social media accounts (I work under two names, and two languages), websites, YouTube channels?
Why do I want to die, and because I know that is self-destructive and people will feel the need to save me and help me;
Why do I feel so blessed that I am an artist, and that I can just destroy my work and no one will be able to stop me because blogging is without value and cannot count as self-destruction?

Why is there not in the brochure that five weeks from now after the second vaccination I have an over 50% chance (from what I ve seen abroad where younger people have received their second) of ending in bed for days with a high fever?
And how that fucks with your mind, when no one discusses this with you if IT IS NOT IN THE BROCHURE?

That five weeks from now you should stock up on yoghurt drinks and biscuit and food for your cats because it has a 50% chance of being your worst flu in over a decade?

How come no one seems to suffer from this nauseous feeling of having been injected with something experimental?
And that you need to block/ close yourself off from the idea that you now have an experimental vaccine in your body where no one knows how it will prove to be linked to the fate of humanity in the future, or even how it will prove to be linked to your own individual fate?

How do you deal with that insecurity of being part of a vaccination program we know very little about and how in the flying fuck does that round off to:
“Have you ever fainted during a vaccination?”

When you feel like you’ve ended up in the bee hive finale of the X Files?

Why would anyone faint DURING vaccination when you have the entire rest of your life to worry about what you put in your body?

I think part of me, taking this so personal and no longer wanting to live, which in my case means I can suffice with destroying my work because if I no longer live creatively I am already dead;
Part of that is because if no one is experiencing this, it means my point of view is ultimately not valid.

If everyone is happy and in full gratitude over how amazing it is that science saved us, and we made it through this pandemic together;
Then why on earth would I ruin everybody’s party by admitting that I don’t have the feeling I’m ever going to get over the fact that I feel so violated in everything that makes me, me;
That I see no point at all of carrying on.
No point of speaking.
No point in being.

It was a bit like when the nurse asked if I wanted to stay seated for a bit longer, and I looked at her and I m pretty sure I rolled my eyes when I said:
“Wrap it up, it no longer matters.”

As if staying in the chair would make any difference now.

As if anything, would ever, make a difference now.

An unexamined life is not worth living

My first response to a Covid vaccination is to destroy all my work
is part of a series on my Facebook called
The Covid Diaries – Countdown to free hugs
| report on the final months of social distancing

You can follow these posts 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:

The Summer Of Love Playbook

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

Dear Sara,

I have no idea how to live up to the idea of this title saying “playbook”.
b75330c6f6bf6be1ae0b5296367fb599But since everybody seems to be using that term nowadays, and on things that have absolutely nothing to do with play and are in fact more of the anti-play or dead-serious or boring-as-f book, I reckoned at least I would TRY to make it
inspiring and fun! 
And make a point there is a difference between serious playbooks and taking play seriously!
So Summer Of Love Playbook it is.
The last time we spoke, we had some great breakthroughs. I say “we” but I mean you had breakthrough thoughts, or I had breakthroughs that I would never have had without you.
So hail to you, and I m absolutely thrilled you have been coaching me for all these years.*
One of the breakthroughs that stood out for me, was that I was still not grounded in my own sexuality, which on a practical level translated itself to being dependent on other people around me, and in particular my friend/ lover.
But it’s broader than that, I know it’s a pattern.
There are people to whom sexuality comes so easily, who are fearless of consequence and are just IN it! They are sexual spiritual naturals, completely in the now. 
Which then of course results in complications because their partners want to claim that treasure for themselves!
So it’s not that they don’t have their own challenges in life.
Imagine running around with your pockets full of gold, and people chasing you for your money.
That’s how they get chased. 
Just because it’s sex no one acknowledges there is a great inequality, and they’re claiming something that does not belong to them.
And I know, because I also chased the fortunate ones. Maybe even more deliberate because I knew what to look for and what to secure.
Instead of learning how to generate sexual wealth to fill my own pockets.
It’s not my lover’s task nor the task of the liberated women, to share their wealth with me.
I am planning my own summer of love, and rock my own sexuality.
Not to chase a sexual prince to first rob him and then beg him to stay so I can rob him more in the future!
That is not how this works.
Have I told you we have boutique vaccinations in The Netherlands? 
It means we have all four vaccines rotating, but in very small quantities and you have to do your absolute utmost best to get your hands on one, and that is AFTER your year of birth has been opened up for application!
And then you just have to settle for whatever vaccine they gave to your year
And if you book online you first go through a painstaking process that requires the installment of a minimum of one VERY privacy sensitive app on your phone, which I never intend to use ever.
It feels I m carrying my panties in a public place. On my head.
And then you get four options on three locations at a minimum of an hour door to door public transportation of your house.
Don’t book online!
The only people who get to choose and will probably get that vaccine door delivered by a popular boy band are the ones who do not get vaccinated now, and just wait until “the price” goes up.
Only losers get vaccinated now, Sara.
In 6 months you can get any flavor drop-in vaccinations at the mall.
Like it should.
Oh and I m one of the suckers who of course scheduled her vaccinations regardless of the fact I know I m paying full price, and all the perks go to those who stand their ground but okay.
I want my summer of love! 
So half July I m fully vaccinated, and although the test and trace regime is still identical for those vaxed and those not;
And therefor the social pressure and the fact that every social interaction can cost you 5 days of quarantine and two Covid test, also still persists;
And despite the fact that infections are on the rise in Britain, when that country is well under way to becoming fully vaxed.
Despite all those things I m calling it a day half July, Sara.
My summer of love begins, hell or high water.
And together with some major decisions, inspirations and insights for my creative work, this has put a smile on my face no one can take from me!
Already giving you the disclaimer that I m probably forgetting half of the things that make my heart sing, or that will eventually be the reason this whole thing succeeds, let’s get this thing on the road!

Stopped with everything that was a great idea in theory

The first point is one for the work under my real name, not for this alterego Lauren Harteveld where I don’t do anything I don’t want. Everything I write here, I can’t NOT.
Like today, I was also looking forward to do a financial project – more on that later.

But I just couldn’t!
This letter to you just wanted to be written and the words and sentences kept going on in my head.
But for the work under my real name things have been a bit rocky because I lacked, and still lack really, clarity.
There are so many topics I know I could write THE book about, a game changer. 
In particular in the field of non-monogamous relationships, just try to shut me up about it!
I even came up with a title for a book I could write in a weekend flat, if I wanted to. 
It would be called:
Reclaim your sexual integrity by quitting monogamy today!
Probably to be improved by adding:
The playbook to, reclaim your sexual integrity by quitting monogamy today!
And of course there is truth in that. There IS a story to tell.
But it is a story of privilege!
A story of “if all things in your life went super-well and then you skip getting kids and go all-in your sexuality and rock that shit!”.
Sure, then why in the flying fuck would you choose monogamy?
But in essence, monogamy is a solution for existing problems, dressed up as a moral choice.
And not seldom, monogamy is one of the few ways the more vulnerable partner is protected. Monogamy is often the only thing that shields relationships from being handed down to brutal capitalism where the winner takes all. 
Monogamy takes the edges off all kinds of injustices. And it does so discretely.
Monogamy, is the great equalizer.
It is where the cards that have been in possession of the same people ever since high school, are suddenly worthless and the rules of the game have changed.
Until we all have the same chances of getting the great cards sexually, emotionally, and economically, I do not want to be the one advocating promiscuity!
I see monogamy, as a consequence of inequality and scarcity.
But when we are all free to get up in the morning, and do whatever the fuck we want and still thrive socially and economically? 
I ll be happy to write the book.
This all to illustrate there are topics I would be able to CONTRIBUTE! 
And so so much, on the fields of sex for singles, and “open relationships”. I would design really cool relationships, nothing like you ve ever seen!
But there is a reason things are as they are.
Just like I think doing yoga exercises doesn’t help your body, because it’s an outside tool and your body started moving and being because you were inhabiting it that way from the inside out –
the same way I think self-improvement doesn’t work.
Things are as they are and they are so with reason.
Stop fucking messing with them. 
Another aspect of this topic of quitting with things that were only a good idea in theory, is to stop doing things that I would like to be able to do, but that I seem to have no talent for.
They ve drained me of time, energy, and notebooks because I took countless new ones hoping better stationary would do the trick, 
Those projects too will be eliminated.
The only work that will remain under my real name is: 
– topics that excite me which do not open a can of social economic worms
– methods I excel at, or that I can hack or compensate by throwing myself in headfirst
These methods brings me to the second major decision.

I can only do one (1!) thing a day which means many days will suck balls because I can’t blog

A blog post takes me three hours but it is usually closer to five.
Six is no exception and seven or eight also happen…

Sometimes it is less than 3 hours, but I never know when that is, so there is no real way of taking advantage of that. 
However, I have thought to tackle this by the doing a little each day.
The most notable ones were, and I m not going to say “the best ideas were” because they were terrible ideas:
1 30 minutes of book publishing each day
2 30 minutes daily of sorting out correspondence and tax statuses regarding my former business

And something I had high hopes for until I started writing this email and the hours are just pouring itself in here. So now I know this is out of the question as well:
idea 3: blogging each morning and then do tasks 1 or 2 for a few hours later that day

Not going to work Sara. None of it. 
Even in these final months of chosen Covid confinement, I spend hours every day going out, exercising, doing yoga, making smaller social media updates.
There are no two times X hours in a day.

There is ONE X hours in a day, where X is however long the task will take.
And the rest magically disappears into the abyss.

A few weeks ago I worked for days archiving and displaying all my notebooks, agendas and diaries (the last ones stayed in my filing cabinet).
It were the most satisfactory days ever! It felt like a holiday, and I came out entirely rejuvenated.

That is the way I want to sort out my finance, including that correspondence I mentioned.
ONE day!

I want to do the final edit of my first new book, which I ve got here in test copy, but I want to review and reupload and order a new test copy.
ONE day!

Second book, same story; ONE day! 

Any project I do: One day Sara.
Or two days maximum, a weekend.

But out with the 30 minutes this, 30 minutes that, and doubling down on multiple hour tasks a day.
They have driven me mad!


Lauren Harteveld doesn’t talk

Ever since I stopped being a yoga teacher and work as a writer under both my names, things have gotten more complicated in the blog, book and ideas department. 
Under which name should something be published?
So I ve come back to a decision I made a while ago, but this time it’s starting to get ingrained:

If I m willing to speak publicly about it, it goes under my real name.

But if I want to write it yet don’t want to talk about it, like all that high-handed monogamy stuff but also all my diary entries in particular the ones with sex, like yesterday’s blogpost here on the blog by Lauren 1996;
then it stays here.

Lauren Harteveld is the candid one.
The daring one.
But she writes and then she leaves. For 1996 😉 
It’s writing only.

And then, finally, my summer of love.
Were you worried, that I forgot?


My Real Name moves to 1996 as well

Alterego Lauren Harteveld has lived there since 2019:
1994 it was at the time.

But now it’s time for my real name to move back in time as well.
I keep finding there is a mismatch, a feeling of finding 2021 not the right atmosphere for what I have to offer. Being in the moment, a writer of the times, means you have no idea what will last and what will not.
You miss so much context. There is no context!
A storyteller has a pretty shitty narrative if you re actually still living IN the times.
So Lauren Harteveld moved back to 1994 (in 2019, it’s 1996 now).
And I ve now rechosen that.
I ve committed to come at “it”, life, topics, SUMMER!, choosing 1996 as my home.
So Lauren, the 23 year old graduate, who is figuring out her relationship with Bear, and her place in this world publishing her books, and her work for the Bon Jovi fanclub;
She will get to expand her work, her world, and her voice to everything I have to offer her under my real name.
– types on her computer as often as she can.
– plays cd’s on her cd player next to it.
– writes her diary for this site
– writes her pieces on Bon Jovi and art on her other site

– and she writes her friends Sara and the bootleg trader Nikki, here on this
And now, everybody gets three guesses, what Lauren 1996 is going to do this summer?
If it wasn’t for the fact that she/ we are living in 1996 I would have ended with:
* insert vegetable emojis *

An unexamined life is not worth living

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We Did It Right (NSFW)| 1996 Dear Nikki

Nikki Sixx“Being together felt like nothing we’d ever done
and not comparable to all the years we were students and saw each other.
We did things I m not going to talk about, maybe one day.”
Lauren’s Diary May 23, 1996

Still unable to write it down in her diary, Lauren decides to share her sex story, with her friend the bootleg trader Nikki. He lives in England and they have never met, but he sends her the bootlegs she needs for reviews for a fan club.
Over the course of their correspondence, Nikki has become the only person with whom Lauren shares all aspects of her sexuality. 

Sent: In an A4+ envelop, addressed to Nikki in England 

first content of the envelop:
A large photocopied page, created from two A4 photocopies, glued together and secured with adhesive tape.
It’s a page from the book SEX by Madonna and it has the text: 
Doctor: “Do you think that it is possible to experience pleasure and pain at the same time?”
Dita: “Sure! That is what ass fucking is all about. It is the most pleasurable way to get fucked and it hurts the most too. All your nerve endings are in your ass, but if you’re not excited or if you’re not doing it right, things can really go wrong.”

And Lauren’s long letter, printed double-sided on A4 with manually added page numbers.
This is what she wrote:

Friday May 28, 1996

Dear Nikki,

726745f80ac3c403ead7b75c5334f8aaThis letter is going to take the honesty I have with you, to a whole new level. And, truth be told, it was not my choice to do this, but I got completely stuck in something I wanted to do but can’t.
And I know that when I write it to you I can.

The thing I really want to do is write down what happened the last time Bear and me were together.

You told me multiple times I can write anything I want, but I think the truth is, there is so much within me that I m ashamed of. That I feel is not allowed to exist, sexually. 
And although Bear has never been there for me after we had sex, because we have never been in a regular relationship, it seems to have hit me hard this time, to deal with this by myself.
To make peace with who I am.
Even though I have known, and even have nourished, “her”, sexual me, by reading the book SEX from Madonna. Because I didn’t want her to die on me. In particular after Bear broke up with me. Originally.

I seem to have regained terrain as “the other woman” because we are having sex again. But in 1995 I didn’t go all the way, and I needed that year of keeping my pants on and “only” giving the occasional hand job (the word always gives me the creeps, not the act), to make up my mind.
I needed it to grow into what it was he was inviting me to become.
The other woman….. phew.
Talk about getting your pass to adulthood god dammit. 

But I needed 1995 as that transition year where I went from being only a friend, to being welcomed back in.
So when we started sleeping together again this year, I had thought things through.
It’s just that I was unprepared for what happened last time.

Because Bear and me are back at the level of sex we had in the early years. When I think there must have been other women, but I felt like the only one. Or maybe for a brief period I was the only one.
I know Bear was fascinated I took matters into my own hands and recruited him to have sex with me. But for the most part I attributed those first wonderful sexual years to the newness of it.
It’s pretty normal for two people to have such a great sex life when they start out.

However, I had not anticipated for that to happen again.
In particular because he’s with his girlfriend now. Logically it would automatically mean the intimacy would stay manageable.
Or was he single this time? 

Man, this letter is all over the place. Sorry! But I do think this is important:
I met him at a friend’s place, he was house sitting. And I got the impression he was single, I really did. Everything was so different from the way it had been for years. Even before he broke up, even just the years after the first years.
When our sex was still amazing, but not as intense as the first years.

So I met him at his friend’s place and I met a Bear I had not seen in years.
And I assumed that was because he was single, and not telling me yet.
But then afterwards nothing happened. He must be back with his girlfriend by now, but I haven’t heard from him. 
And it’s just so confusing, Nikki. I m sorry to interrupt myself the whole time, but I think this is why I feel I can’t write in my diary what happened, because every time I think of that day, I start questioning myself.
How could I have been so wrong?
How could I have made such a huge mistake in assessing what was going on?
What does that say about my people skills?
Am I a dumb person?

So that was the boring, self-pity part of the letter.
But look at it this way! If I had been totally okay with it, I would just have written the sex stories in my diaries, and you would not have gotten to read them.
So I think in the light of our correspondence, my doubt has served us well.

There were two things I really want to highlight for you.
Two things I would have written in my diary, if I had gotten over myself and actually wrote in my diary.
The first is anal sex, and the second is oral sex.

Bear and me only had anal sex in the first years we were together. 
I was a (normal) virgin when we met, so I was inexperienced with anal sex as well. From Bear, I don’t know. I remember asking him, but not getting an answer. He just brought it back to what he was doing to me, asked if I liked it. Maybe he said something like “I ll manage”.
So I always assumed I was the first one for him, but there really is no way of telling.

We always used a lubricant, even for normal sex, so we both had that. It was always present, whenever we were at his place or my place. We both still lived at home, when we started out.
But his parents were liberal, as was my mom. 
I was already used to owning condoms, even though I was a virgin. I had been single for half a year, before “recruiting” Bear. Losing my virginity had been on my agenda.
And from Bear I learned to use lubricant, which I found funny at first. What would a teen use lubricant for? But he explained that it would help the first time be less painful. And that he liked using it.

I remember that he was completely unmoved by my attempt to mock him for owning it!
And once I understood how he used it, I was embarrassed and felt immature for laughing about it. 
Because he was so nice.

What Bear started doing, right from the very beginning (we saw each other a few times before we went all the way), was finger me.
But not the hugging and touching and fingering, fingering, what I would call normal fingering.
But he would lay me down, naked or without panties (half-naked), and I would lie there and he would inspect me like a doctor.
Oh my God, I still get wet just thinking about it!

He didn’t play doctor, he just did it that way. With us detached, him sitting between my legs on the bed, the floor or next to me on the side of the bed. And he fingered me with lube. Sometimes he would talk to me, ask me how it felt. But that was only in the beginning, because I didn’t really know how to respond.
It felt awkward, to get that kind of attention. I just remember that this fingering too, was something he only did in the first years. And he didn’t do that the last time we were together either, but he did do something that was similar, the oral sex, more on that later.

But anyway, when I was a virgin the doctor like fingering sessions served a clear purpose. 
Firstly because they made me incredibly horny. I think that’s also the reason I was embarrassed by them, and didn’t quite know how to respond. Isn’t that strange? Even in bed, with a man who is clearly trying his best to make me horny, I feel so horny that I think that is no longer appropriate.
Guilty for just lying there, not having to do anything.

No doubt aided by the fingering, losing my virginity went really well. I never had any pain, and I loved feeling him inside of me so much. It was so wonderful. The closest to another human being I ever felt.
Last time too, it felt so good.
It was like his dick was bigger, I could feel him so clearly. And when I was sitting on top of him, resting, he moved his dick inside of me, and that was so special.
I m sure he has done that before, but it felt so great.

The fingering stayed on, after I was no longer a virgin. And I bought lubricant, for when we were at my place.
So lubricant was always present, and I think this was another reason why for us the step to anal sex may have been easier than for other teens.
But we did started doing it pretty early on. But it stopped after the first three years.

In hindsight I think it was the moment Bear started to realize he wanted a family, and that he didn’t want to be in what we had forever. That it was great for the college years but that he was going to look for what he wanted.
That’s when we stopped having anal sex and also when that type of fingering stopped.

I realize now that I m saying many contradictory things in this letter. I m sorry! I m just figuring it out as I go. But if I wrap up the timeline of our sex life, is that the first years were the best, and then the most intimate acts just didn’t get played anymore.
I thought it was due to the normal thing that happens when you know each other for a longer period of time. But because he broke up with me December 1994, in favor of a new girlfriend (and by then we had not had sex for 5 months), I think our sex life started waning because he was already saying goodbye.
And not because we were less excited by each other.

When I saw Bear last time, we both wanted to have anal sex again.
So we did.
And what was so cute, or very “Oh, I totally forgot about that!” was that we tried to do it more doggy style, from behind. And it hurt and I said, let’s just do it the normal way.
So in missionary but then anal sex.
And this was exactly reminiscent of the first time we had anal sex when he wanted to do/ try in what I think must be the normal way to do it, but I said I wanted it to be missionary. So missionary it was.

But this time, we tried it in doggy, but it just hurt. It was unpleasant, so I broke it off and said something like: “Just do it the normal way,” meaning our normal way, which I had forgotten was our normal way. 
So I turned around on my back and invited him on top of me.
And I pulled my legs up a bit so he could see where he was going! 
And it was absolutely magical.

The first bit was scary. You got a thousand thoughts going through in your head, and fear it’s going to hurt. It goes so slow, sometimes you think there is no progress at all. And again that word “embarrassing”. It’s very intimate, to be together in that not knowing.  
And knowing your ass is the bottleneck factor here! Oh my God I m laughing out loud as I type this. This is ridiculous, but that is how it feels. 
There is a lot at stake, and you don’t want to be the deal breaker, yet you can’t control it or do anything about it. It’s either going to work, or it isn’t.

But it did, and we could both feel it. It was like everything, all the stupid years of not doing this, faded. It was the moment we were really together. 
I smiled and he smiled to, and then he did something he had never done: He pushed it in further and started fucking me. I can’t believe he dared to do that, but it was so wonderful.
It was one of those things that if he had asked me upfront I would never have dared to agree to it, and perhaps I would have tightened up just from asking.
But he just did it. Nothing rough, and I don’t know how to say it in a way that expresses that I know I m totally safe with him and that the reason it is so good is because he would immediately feel it probably even before I did, if I was not enjoying it.
But it was so wonderful.

Fuck, it makes me cry.
What a fucked up mess, to then part afterwards. I think I m beginning to understand why I can’t make myself pick up my diary and write this down.
So we had anal sex longer, deeper and also more connected than ever.
It was a remembrance to who we were as a couple, that we did this and we did it facing each other. I know melting together as one, sounds corny and probably is corny but that’s what it was. But I felt that was when we were reborn as a couple. Corny too, I know.
You re just going to have a find a way to forgive me for the Harlequin vocabulary.

Only then it turned out he was not single and he’s back with her now.
And I look at that Madonna book, that had the job of keeping my sexuality alive through 1995, and I just know that I have to get back to that, or to something else that allows me to be sexual without him.
But I fail so often.

There was a dildo I really wanted to buy, but I just couldn’t. It was mail order, the brochure still comes in here from the man who used to live here.  Maybe that I can see his name, is adding to me feeling uncomfortable buying. Then the tenant after me will know my name from brochures that keep coming.
And it was just so disheartening that I m back to square one.

Back to denying my own sexuality, and needing him to choose me in order for it to be alright to be a sexual person.
But you know what Nikki? What makes it so sad?
That I am denying my own sexuality, in response to him denying me a relationship.

As soon as I know or realize I am still single and we are not together, I can’t claim or enjoy what happened anymore. I feel so rejected, I reject my own sexuality. 

I deliberately saved the oral sex part for last.
Because I didn’t want to end on a low, with me feeling like I have to start all over again restoring my sexuality. Even though that is how I feel. But that is not what I want this letter to be about.

We were at his friend’s place, and this was the first time we were at “his” house and he had a bedroom, because we used to be students and then you only have one room. 
So he asked me: “Do you want to go to the bedroom?” when we were kissing on the couch. 
He is such a good kisser. The boyfriend I had before him was also an amazing kisser, and I think I learned it from him. That first boyfriend was the best kisser in the world (I was also single and kissed with people then, Nikki!) And yet I prefer Bear to the first boyfriend, because Bear is much more sexual.
Or at least, sexual in a way that I understand.
Like, when I am kissing him I constantly hear the beat of drum beneath! And the drums say:
“Just say when.”
Bear is the best kisser in the world, because his kissing is part of his whole sexual availability to you. So I understand him better.

So he asked if I wanted to go to the bedroom, and I said yes, but instead of taking my hand and taking me there, which I would have found to use a German term “zum kotzen” (I actually considered taking the couch to avoid such an unerotic moment of him taking my hand) he said:
“I’ll go first, you come after. But naked. Leave your clothes outside.”
He had already gotten up and was heading to the bedroom, not making eye contact. So he didn’t ask if I agreed or anything. It was the absolute opposite of taking my hand, like a cheeseball.

I had a huge grin on my face, as I undressed, and left my clothes in the living.

I came in and he was there, also naked. And we started kissing and he said something about how he loved my body and “look at yourself, at how gorgeous you are”.
I gained a lot of weight, since I was 17! But I agree it does look great on me. But it still makes me feel a bit uneasy. It’s very strange to live in a body, that still doesn’t feel like how you remembered it to be. Maybe that’s why I want to lose the weight, because I don’t want to get used to it.
But the only place those kilos never felt out of place was in the bedroom.
There they have always been exactly right.

So he admired my body, and I his, and I gave him a blowjob but more a pre-sex blowjob. Not an all the way blowjob.  It was too soon for that anyway. 
The first time we had sex this year, I took him in my mouth so many times, my jaws started hurting. It was great to have that feeling of being used and being used up! 
But now we kept it civil. It was just a relaxing blowjob with him on his back, and me also licking the whole area around. I usually let him decide if he wants me to continue or stop, and I imagine that was this as well.
And then he went down on me.
And it was a bit like the fingering, in that he instructed me to lie down, and I just lay there. And he told me what to do which was pull my legs up.
As wide as I could.
I thought I was going to die! Figuratively, but it was so open, exposed. Like I wanted to just disappear.
And then he went down on me, and started giving me oral sex, which was so incredibly good.

It took me until typing this letter to realize why that was, and that the two were related. Because I felt so exposed and part of me (a big part!) did not want to be there in that position, that’s why the oral sex was so sweet.
It’s like what Madonna says in Erotica: Only the one that inflicts pain, can take it away.

But then I m alone again, and it’s so difficult to remember the pleasure, and the embarrassing moments or the vulnerable moments melt together with the pain of not being chosen.
And I see the Madonna book SEX, knowing that I will be needing that a lot.
That even though it is no longer 1995, and I have made up my mind that I ll count my blessings in whatever form they come, I will need some kind of outer reminder that I am a sexual being.

That I am more than just rejected by Bear.
That in the moments that count the most, I was never rejected.

And that we did it right.


An unexamined life is not worth living

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And are published together, here on this blog.

We Did It Right | 1996 Dear Nikki
is the eleventh 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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A Good Friend To Bear | 1996 diary

Madonna early 80s

diary 1996
Thursday May 6, 1996

I always feel my workweek ends on Thursday night.
I don’t know why, because I cannot remember the last time I could actually take time off, to work on my own books on Friday.
I m always behind on my freelance work, and work weekends too. Sometimes because I have a deadline, but more often because I didn’t get any paid work done during the week.

I try to make at least 32 paid hours a week, but at the expense of publishing my own books.
The Friday “off” to work on my own stuff, is a concept, a dream that has never been a reality. It’s something that only works in theory or until I become more productive.

Another reason I still see Thursday night as the closer to my workweek is because it’s Guns N’ Roses night at the hard rock cafe. I can justify going there way more if it’s “my Friday night”, even when it’s obviously not.

So I went to the hard rock cafe but it was relatively quiet. Maybe because it was raining.
There were maybe half of the people I usually meet there, and not the guy I always flirt with and with whom I suspect to one day end in bed with.
It gave me a lot of time to think, and as the girl I talk to the most went to the bar to get us a beer, I started contemplating all the areas at which I seem to be failing.
My paid work.
Publishing my books.
Writing. I hardly write anymore because I m daunted by everything that I’ve already written and that I want to print. I don’t want to add more to the pile.
And I fail at losing weight.

Months ago, I really tuned into how I lived when I was 16 and was so motivated to use that as a recipe to get the body and the productivity back I had then. I called it Project 88, because I turned 16 in the Summer of 88.
But like I said, despite the cool title, nothing much came of it.

I never got it rolling.
It was a good idea, but I still weigh the same, and as I just explained my productivity is also nowhere near that teenager that just crushed it.

I wondered if there was a different way of viewing this failure of getting my shit together.
An explanation, of why I was failing at something I had done right without any effort, years and years ago.

If I was that 16 year old Lauren right now, what would I be doing right at this moment?

Of course.
I would be home.
I would not be standing in a bar on a Thursday night.

It is already too late to call it an early night, and I did have two beers.
But that light bulb moment made me go home as soon as I could. At least an hour and a beer earlier than usual.

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but I did realize that wondering what 16 year old me would do, at any moment, any situation, how she would tackle my current life;
That, was always a great question to ask myself.


diary 1996
Friday May 7, 1996

Around 2 AM, but I can’t remember I had actually slept although I had not been fully awake either, I “woke up” with pains in my body that I only have when I m stressed.
The type of pains that you ve read about, that you should have them checked out because you may be suffering from a heart condition.

The type of pains I ve been, well not “ignoring” since I was 16; But I have always refused to give them the medical attention a sane person would have given them.
I think they’re a sign that if I don’t want to die, I should get my shit together.
Not that if I don’t want to die, I should go to a hospital and get some scans and other tests and then get medicated.
I ve never seen them as a sign of that, and even though the pains woke me up at 2 AM, took my peace of mind, worried me sick, and I did not fall asleep until dawn;
I do not intend to start caving in now.

If I die, I die.
But if God wants me to publish my books, and become a published author, then he better keep me alive.
We’re in this together, and I m not going to do all the work of undergoing all kinds of stressful tests or treatment to stay alive.
Not when I was 16, and my boyfriend broke up with me, and it was the first year I felt these pains.
Not now.
Not ever.

Regardless of how often you ve felt this, you never get used to it. It’s loneliness, but amplified by being alone at night. It’s fear of dying. It’s the pain itself, that is so unsettling.
It mixes together to a monster that I would round off to “fear”, but then again it’s too big, too multifaceted to be called by such a simple term.
It’s a monster, that what it is.
And it comes at night when you’re all alone and were not feeling too good to start with.

It comes to feed on your fears and then on your soul.
I m sure of it.

I’m postponing getting to bed tonight. Going to do some dishes, hopefully that helps me to calm down a bit.
But then I m going to bed.

Hoping tonight will be better.


diary 1996
16 GOING ON 23
Monday May 10, 1996

It’s almost 11 P.M. and I only have time for a very small entry, because this is no longer “Me” who is typing this.
It’s 16 year old me, and “she” would go to bed on time.
Not open a new entry 11 P.M. and then have the dishes still waiting for her as well.

I am experimenting with giving my life back to the 16 year old me, since she was absolutely nailing life in every area you can imagine.
And also every area I have been failing at since summer 1994. Right after graduation.

I can’t think of a good reason to struggle with that stuff when I rocked it as a teenager.
She and me are the same person.
I m sure there is a way around this.

So I “summoned” her!
And I even gave her her own diary, although I must admit I (flaky 1996 me) have not been that consistent letting her (the one whose help I want) write.
But I want to get better at it, and give her free reign to take over my life.
She earned it.

Here are some of the things she has written in her diary ever since arriving in my current body and life:

– surprisingly quick adaptation to being teleported 7 years into the future

– curious to meet the friends in my calendar and confidently does everything that I would not know how to do.

– happy to find that although her 16 year old heart was broken around this time (May 1989), I am/ she is doing fine in 1996.

– From the calls she receives from Bear and the diaries she’s found, she has concluded they’re in some sort of relationship and she s looking forward to it.
She’s unbothered to be the other woman.

16 Year old me is totally into being in 1996, and does not miss being heartbroken and still a virgin.
And in the meantime she fixes my life.

I like this girl.


diary 1996
Sunday May 23, 1996

It was a note on a worn-down notepad next to my bed, the paper block that I had torn out of a notebook I had never used, that looked extremely cheap and shabby because the stitches or threads were still sticking out of it;
But it was that notepad that brought me back every night to the only thing I could do.
And the only thing of value that, despite feeling like I was disintegrating, I still knew how to do.
It said:
“Be a good friend to Bear.”

Must have been late last year or early this year I wrote that.
And it saved me.
Or at least it kept my head above water until Sara really saved me.

So, what had happened? What had caused this meltdown where I needed to be saved every night by demolished stationary? 

I saw Bear, and everything was absolutely perfect.
First of all, for the first time since he moved in with his girlfriend and no longer has his own house, we were not at my place.
It was not a clandestine, sneaking away from work to visit my college sweetheart, drop by. 
He was house sitting for a friend who was on holiday. Taking care of the house but mostly of their dog Snoopy, who needed to be taken out for regular walks. And although him staying in this apartment didn’t have anything to do with his girlfriend, it felt like old times.
Him and me.

He called me Saturday morning, I think he was making a shopping list. And he asked if I’d like red wine or something else. And I already knew he’d make us Pasta Carbonara.  
He checked if I knew how to cycle, and offered to place my bike in the basement storage.
He also repeated his offer to sleep over, and when I declined, he repeated he would cycle with me on my way home until I was past the bridge. 

Even before I had set a foot in the apartment, everything already felt like a warm blanket. I don’t think I ever felt so loved. 
It also made me realize that this Bear, this type of attention, had been long gone when he broke up with me. That there was more that had been lacking, than just the months and months he hardly contacted me, prior to him breaking up.
The downfall had started way before that.

I recognized this type of love from the first years we were together. But because we were so much younger then, still teens, it wasn’t the same as it was now. He had been talented, skillful, sweet. A charmer. A womanizer. And as opposed to me, definitely not a virgin. But in terms of innocence and sometimes still feeling insecure or quirky, we had been the same.
Our arrangement had been based on guts and gusto! 
Not on any, I would say “formal training”, in how to make dating work.  

I had never seen so clearly how much he had grown, since then. And I imagined it was largely due to the girlfriend who is at least five years older than we are. Perhaps more.
Bear was always good with Pasta Carbonara, but now he was more confident in his actions.

If you’d asked him for how he had set up this date, I m almost sure that (after a little thought, because to him it would come natural) he could have come up with a checklist, as if it were a wedding.

I found my way to the address he had given me, without needing the map I brought in my bag just in case. I  rang the bell, and after a “Hello?” the door opened.
On an ice-cold walkway I passed a kitchen window, where I could already see Bear. We waved, at which Snoopy started barking loudly.
Bear gave me a long hug and kisses in my ear, before I even got my coat off.

We drank red wine in the kitchen, while he cooked our pasta, and Bear opened the windows to the walkway to let all the steam and cooking smell out, which turned the kitchen cold.
But we were too happy to finally see each other, to really notice.

We ate our Pasta Carbonara on the couch, just like the old times when we both lived in student rooms.
I don’t think we ever had dinner at a table, in all those years we saw each other.
And even though he, and I guess me as well, had grown and our date felt like we were pretend playing we were adults, we still automatically bypassed the dinner table to eat.
And we would also bypass it for sex.

This was the first time Bear had a separate bedroom to offer me. Again, when you re a student and your bed and couch are next to each other, it makes it arbitrary which one you choose.
But now, after dinner, when we were cuddling up on the couch, Bear asked me:
“Do you want to go to the bedroom?”
I don’t know if he remembers that it always turns me on if he asks me what I want, or for permission to do something sexual.
Tonight “Do you want me to (fill in something sexual)?” was “Do you want to go to the bedroom?”

Although it was used many more times after.

We had sex in the most intimate way. There was a deep physical desire for each other. There were no fantasies, no memories, no talk about future sex and what I would like one day;
Because everything was now.

We stared into each other’s eyes, for connection but also filled with wonder at how horny we were.
I remember at one point sitting on top of him, and I could feel his dick was so incredibly hard, and it only got harder. It moved in me, or waited patiently.
But it surprised me, how it felt. So powerful yet contained.

Being together felt like nothing we’d ever done and not comparable to all the years we were students and saw each other.
We did things I m not going to talk about, maybe one day.

I know I can’t keep saying it was the best time ever, every time we have sex. But it was the best time sex ever.
The big difference was that it also felt really romantic.
He didn’t say I love you, it was not that cheesy. 

But I felt loved.

Until the days went by and I was not asked to come again, for the remainder of his stay. And it was in those days that I realized that the only reason I was not feeling totally miserable, like I usually do after having sex with Bear knowing he has gone back to his girlfriend, was because I thought he would choose for me.
That him being in that apartment, tasting freedom, tasting me!, would either lead to him becoming single.
Or part of me thought that he had already been single.

That he just didn’t want to bring me the news, because it would have placed pressure on me being there.
But I was convinced that what I had felt, was not Bear cheating on his girlfriend.
It was Bear starting a new life.
Or so I thought.

And then day came, that Snoopy’s family came back from their holiday and Bear would move back in with his girlfriend.
And I heard nothing from him.

And my heart broke.

It was more painful than it had ever been. There were days when I couldn’t stop crying. But also days when I couldn’t stop blaming myself for this. I knew this. Why was I falling into the same trap over and over again?
Why couldn’t I just enjoy Bear on the moments he did have time for me?
I knew he was the one I wanted, and that I didn’t want sex with other men.

I like the guy from the hard rock cafe. 
I fell in love with the painter guy who looked like Slash, in 1994.
but it never took flight. Maybe it will one day, but with Bear and me, things are in such different stage.
We have a legacy.

I was ultimately saved by my older friend Sara. She explained to me that what I had felt with Bear was a freedom he had created himself. That it didn’t matter if he was or had been single, because what I had felt was something he had created.
And that I had wanted.

That Bear could not give me the sex life and the adventure I was longing for. I had to go get that myself. 
What she explained (if I understood correctly) was that I wanted to be Bear. Not be with Bear.
And ever since I know that, I m recovering.
Sara was right.

I wish I was that person using all the space, the house, the skills, the time, the love, the way he uses them.
So I m good now.

But that blow when the post-sex backlash came, had been a bad one. And there were multiple times when I thought I could not go on seeing Bear as the other woman. That it was breaking me.
I was heartbroken.

Yet every night I found the note:
“Be a good friend to Bear.”

And it saved me.
That, I could do.


An unexamined life is not worth living

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

A Good Friend To Bear | 1996 diary
is the tenth chapter to
1996 diary 

Find the subscription button on this page.

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



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Don’t look back

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

“Owls are wise. They can predict the past.”
Two Women, by Harry Mulisch

Dear Sara,

I never understood the legend of Orpheus and Eurydice in school, because we never got the Greeks. Either our school had strategic reasons not to include them, for instance because they were no longer part of the final exam.
Or my year of first graders had fallen into a historic loophole in the education system. A glitch, where for a few years the national program for history started with the Romans and not the Greeks.
But I never got them, and learned them self-taught, when I was in my late teens. 
If I had had the Greeks around the age of 12, 13, I doubt I would have been into them as much as I was years later.
The story I think of most frequently in daily life, is the one from Orpheus and Eurydice.
Not because I got it literally from text, but because someone explained how a book I liked was inspired by the tragedy of Orpheus and Eurydice.
be8ab849-7a63-4723-9971-799d30812a3aBoth Eurydice and Orpheus are women in the book. The book is called Two Women by Harry Mulisch, and it has been turned into a movie in 1979 and 2010, both times called Twice a Woman.
The Eurydice in the book leaves her female Orpheus suddenly, but in hindsight she has done so to get pregnant by Orpheus’ ex-husband.
She returns pregnant, on “Orpheus” doorstep. But it does not end well because Orpheus makes Eurydice go back to her ex-husband to explain and make things right.
She should have welcomed Eurydice back without looking back to where she had been.
And in particular without sending her back. To the underworld!
Even if it was just to have coffee to make amends.
Maybe the entire book is a plea to stop trying to smooth everything over, but that is not why I thought of that book today. Although it IS a good truth to keep to mind! 
Be a grateful receiver of what comes back to you, and do not interfere with other people’s life choices. Even when that other people is your partner.
But like I said, that was not the hook this piece was about.
This is about classic Orpheus, and classic looking back.
It is this story that has come to mind when I find myself anxious and wanting to know where my Eurydice is.
And when I actively search for him. Or them.
It is good to point out this has happened in the past with multiple men. A sudden urge, desire, curiosity, to Google them or check their social media. And almost always with staggering, disturbing, and at the same time important results.
My most mixed-emotions moment was when I found out someone’s real wife had the same name as I was about to choose for his fictional wife.
And this was someone I had not spoken to in years, the last time we spoke he had not even met her.
Going to look for Eurydice is even in today’s world, hardly ever without serious consequence.
And yet tonight, I went looking for her again.
After a week of feeling on top of my game, I feel I have fallen into the underworld.
And that BOTH are connected! Either I went looking in the underworld, because I felt my energetic tie was glitching like Dutch historic school programs in the mid 80s.
Or I could no longer hold my curiosity, and wanted to know if since I was thinking so much about him:
Was there a sign it was mutual, and that things had been shifting?
If I looked over my shoulder for just a sec, would I see him there behind me?
The one whose presence I could feel so strongly?
And then I lost him.
In quantum science they say the atom is where you think it is.
I felt my Eurydice so strongly, his presence. I didn’t connect it to my happiness, I was too egotistical for that. Or had learned not to get burned and to never focus on the presence of a man for my happiness. Not energetically, and not physically.
But last week, if you would have asked me:
“Do you still think of Eurydice?” I would have given you an ear to ear smile!
And then it comes: I don’t know what my motivations were.
Was it an energy shift in the negative, after being days on a high, and did I want to look if “he” was still there?
Even though it is questionable how I would be able to see anything, if it was indeed something energetic that I had felt. 
Or, alternatively, was I still on the high of knowing my Eurydice was there, and did this Saturday seem like a good day, to just give the door a little push, to see if it was unlocked and would open by itself?
The perfect night to, after an entire week on an absolute high, to just help chance a tiny bit and give God and the Universe a chance to tell me what I had already known and felt.
That my Eurydice was there.
I don’t know, which one it was.
A response to feeling I lost his presence, or a desire to get a confirmation in the real world that reflected what I had been feeling all that time.
But I do know what happened after.
And those who know their classics, this will know it too.
“As Eurydice dies again, she bears no anger toward her husband.
She understands that, just as it was love that compelled him to journey into the Underworld to get her, it is love that compelled him to look back and make sure she was there.
It is a very bittersweet, tragic moment.”
Quantum science got it wrong.

The atom is where you think it is. Until you look.

An unexamined life is not worth living



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Sexuality Loading

very rare photo of Sharon Stone, probably from an official promo photo shoot, during the time of Basic Instinct.

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

Dear Sara,

It was almost as if I had been preparing for these two weeks, where I would not have time for my creativity.
The last time we spoke it felt overwhelming. Like I was not up for it, and that I had somehow made, I don’t know, some kind of “planning mistake” or something?
But the truth was, that I had done everything right.
It was as if part of me had known months in advance, this was coming.
Or maybe the correct way to see and say it is;
It wasn’t these two weeks, as some sort of solo event.
The last two weeks were the most visible and most recent part of a way longer time period, starting at the beginning of this year, where I no longer just sit behind my desk and write for however long I want.
Where other obligations seem more important -and from a money making perspective are more important!- and together with the daily outdoor exercise which I ve been consistent at for half a year or so;
Little time is left for writing. 
Even less if I also want to publish my books.
When I was a yoga teacher I used to write all day, and then rush to get showered, eat and get to class.
I did not do any exercise aside commuting (on my bicycle), I did not see daylight from like October to February, and I probably needed those yoga classes more than anyone else;
But boy did I write.
I’m publishing my books, and as you know the number of blog posts under this name and my real name, is daunting.
I received the test copies from the first two books!
“The Mistress Speaks” and my book about Basic Instinct/ Catherine Tramell “The Beach, C.”
I have to correct/ improve them, which I ll prioritize. I hope to have the new test copies ordered before the end of the week.
So the bad news is that although those two weeks I was making such a fuss about, have ended;
I find myself still not having time to write.

But the two weeks went by fine.
Not just because they were far less out-of-the-ordinary as I had assumed they were.
But I also had the vision board card deck with the laminated cards, which I set up last summer but I ve been tweaking and updating it ever since and keep rearranging it, keeping spares for that moment in my drawer.
Next to these cards I found reminders of my goals and dreams, in my notebooks.
And to top it all off, I encountered a very explicit tab on the browser of my phone. Every time I went by them all to see if I could close a few tabs, I would see this one and smile!
I remembered setting this open tab up in February, March at the latest, being very deliberate in my actions.  I knew the explicit content would be a nessecary reminder that I was a sexual being.
Regardless of whatever scatterbrain state I would be in, the moment I mindlessly browsed over my tabs to shut them.
So the two weeks were better than I expected, because the shock was not as strong as I feared, and because I had Lauren’s Past Self having set up reminders for current day me.
“Hold the course.”
“You re sexual.”
And “Ps: here’s a photo of Jon Bon Jovi in the 80s. Yeah I thought you needed that.”
Another very positive aspect which I had not seen coming, was that I had sex too!
Not the perfectly orchestrated best sex of my life – date, we had in February.
But a really nice quickie, that felt so good. Maybe because it was not anticipated, and also because it was the kind of sex you can only have if you know each other very well. 
Because we are not a couple, and because of the hiatus we had last year, those moments when something happens that kind of “reveals” what’s underneath, are so special. 
And the sex was very welcome. Even when it was at a moment when I could not process or relive it by writing about it. I could not magnify it, in any way.
It was normal, grounded sex. That together with all the notes in my journals, and together with already being in the habit of writing less, got me through. 
As much as all this was good news, it did also point to a problem that I had unconsciously been aware of (hence: the reminders to myself) but that I had not tackled.
After “fruitless 2020” I knew that if I kept writing, and/or kept creating videos for my work under my real name, my books would not get published. So I had prioritized publishing.
But by now it was also clear that the opposite was also true:
When I was publishing I did not write
With over 600 blog posts on both of my accounts, publishing my books is not a sprint activity.
I don’t know what I was thinking when I thought I could muscle through a couple of months prioritizing the books, the publishing, and that the problem would then be solved..
Because publishing will never be done.
It’s like a marathon with no end.
And I have to find a way to bring my sexuality = creativity = writing, back into my days!
It’s all well and good that I m now publishing my books, getting daylight and exercise and doing yoga every now and then. And some would even say it’s a sign of maturity that I can have sex without needing to bury myself in my writing immediately after.
But I’m not saying that.
And to me it’s not well and good.
Needing a sexually explicit tab open on your phone browser because you’re afraid you’ll forget who you are below the belt, is a sign of spiritual and sexual poverty.
A sign that writing needs to come back on the menu sooner rather than later.


An unexamined life is not worth living



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The Sex & Relationship Secrets That Took Me 14 Years To Uncover | from the archives

The Witcher

I’m currently publishing my books, the first two are finished. I have ordered test copies.
One of the surprises it brought me, going through my archives, was finding this “draft”, written July last year.
Except it isn’t a draft, it is a complete blog post.
Perhaps it stayed unpublished because it struck me as too personal at the time…

Here it is, nine months later.

20 April 2020

The Sex & Relationship Secrets That Took Me 14 Years To Uncover

written at 23 July, 2020

It wasn’t until episode 3 of The Witcher, where the deformed stubborn magic apprentice Yennefer dumps her betraying lover, bypasses the wishes of the magic council, and arranges her own physical transformation with the sorcerer who is in charge of all the magical makeovers, and comes out ravishing and ready to rule, on the other side, that I could finally see my place in this world.

That I could make my peace with having been on a way too long journey, with way too little to show for, of discovering my own sexuality and relationship style.
Although back then in 2006 I thought I would end with wanting my then current relationship back.

That my journey would most likely go round in a circle.

So did I really want to risk losing it all, for the voice in my head that said:
“This isn’t you.” ?

The truth is of course, that I did.

We broke up in October 2006, after 14 years. But from April on, that year, I was already accompanied by my new companion; Writing.
It was as if the voice of God, the voice of The Muse, the voice of destiny had all come to me in the same voice:
My own.

First the voice came in the shape of my old diaries I found in the attic. To this day that story is my bio on my sales page. 
Then the voice became my first writing, and almost immediately I took on a pseudonym.

I rationalized the pseudonym with needing the privacy. I was a yoga teacher and didn’t want to discuss my personal writing in class.
I needed two separate identities.

But with the decision being almost immediately – far before I had a website, posted to social media and so on – was it really a rational choice?
Or was LS Harteveld, from the get go, the real me?

I think what I have experienced the last three years and why this site/ my writing/ and basically everything in my life has been so messy, was a deep mourning sparked by people leaving, my sweet pet dying.
Things shifting – in particular in the relationship with my former lover Mr.Big. He broke up with me in December. (2019) But I really date that first shift back to late 2017, early 2018.
That’s when something changed.

And I m sure I m forgetting other factors as well- 
But they all resulted in me trying everything for three years to “make things right”.
When I know now:
They are never going to be “right”.

My 14 year journey on a quest for sexuality and relationship styles that do suit me;
It has no happy ending.

What I want, or perhaps “What I am”, she has no happy endings.

Not because I am not deserving of them, but because what I am is so rare, although many say it is common.
Many say that the softporn movie for which I actually joined Netflix for the first time, “365 Days”, as well as another female-gets-conquered-by-domineering-man saga, “50 Shades” can be explained by what “I” have, to be extremely common.
If all women want what I want, and they project that onto that movie which is why they are so popular, then all women want a dominant.

But fortunately or perhaps unfortunately, the sex and relationship I wanted or needed or desired, was a bit more complicated than that. 

So, what is it I discovered in those 14 years?
What is this illusive, strange, 50 Shades, 365 Days, Might be Common After All dynamic that I require with a man, that explains;
– why it took me 14 effin’ years to figure this shit out
– why I have instinctively wanted to stop writing under this strong, candid, Reality-Creating-By-Pen account of LS Harteveld, so often…
I can’t even promise it will never happen again, that’s how much this account conflicts with what I would want from a man!
– why all men with whom I ve had fantastic sex with – with the exception of the man I had a 14 year long relationship with, but all others – did not choose for me, and left me for other women as if it was the most logical, sensible thing in the world that of course I was not chosen.
– And what is this illusive, strange dynamic that I require with a man that they were probably right, when they thought it was the most logical, sensible thing in the world to not choose me?

Secret 1:

Not needed.
Not allowed.
Not loved, although that’s obviously part of it.
Not a good fit, in any normal, functional, practical way.


Secret 2
It’s hard to be ALL that you are, if someone is not doing well

After 14 years of searching I know why the relationship I was in (until 2006) was not the perfect one.
And I do not expect I will go around in a circle and we will ever become lovers again, the way I thought we would. 
Because although our bond was a day-to-day little party of two teens having fun (basically);

He was suffering in a way I could not help him with. 
I took as much load off his shoulders as I could, hoping he’d refind his strength.
But to no avail.

And because I had been with him for so long, I started thinking I was probably part of the problem since I was obviously no part of the solution. No matter what I tried it wasn’t working.

This connects to why I believe I should pick up and continue writing on this account, as LS Harteveld, for as long and as often as I can.
To avoid something like that ever happening again, I need to present the strongest, fiercest side of myself.
I need to dial up, and not tone down. And allow myself to show “my full size” so to speak. 

Secret 3
I need a dominant partner,

14 Years after leaving that relationship, I think there was something else besides the altruistic motive of not wanting my career overshadowing him and making matters worse. 
The less altruistic reason was:
I needed him to be strong.
I needed him to be dominant.


And I wish I had known this!
Not only do I see now that relationship failing did not have anything to do with him changing. I changed. I needed something else, and I didn’t know it.
And had I known it, I also would not have needed the
14 years of dating and truth-finding that followed.

So the reason I return today here on this blog, writing, and the reason I am convinced I need to keep writing as LS Harteveld, is because LS Harteveld shows who I am, the strongest most unapologetic side of me.
If a man I am in love with, can (could, in the very unlikely case my love life with Mr.Big picks up, would) deal with being with LS Harteveld? He can deal with anything.
And if not, LS Harteveld saves us a lot of time.

secret 4

Firstly non monogamy for myself, although that requires some elaboration.
Non-monogamy for myself means that if there are or come other men into my life, I want my partner to be supportive of that.
A strong partner is not a strong partner, if he believes that he has to isolate his woman, because she will otherwise run from him.
As such non-monogamy is required, regardless of the chances of multiple partners ever happening for me.

But the major thing is non-monogamy on his side.

Like I said, my key element in a relationship is to be wanted. Not NEEDED.
If I m the only one he has sex with, that comes dangerously close to being needed, since who else is he going to have sex with, right?
I m not saying he necessarily has to have an entire harem – he still has to make me feel wanted above anything else, so there are of course some challenges there – but he does need enough space and time away from me, so that I don’t know what he’s up to all the time.

This complicated non-monogamy, where I require a partner to be his own man, was the hardest or perhaps most uncommon thing about my sexuality, that I uncovered in 14 years.
That I was never bothered by a desire to break free from my monogamous relationship, which in fact could explain why my new “lover” in 2006 became Writing and not a crush on another man, but that in hindsight I had been bothered by my partner not having an interest in other women.

To this day, I have not met anybody so outspoken with regard to that, who wanted his or her partner to have sex with other people.
If I would have to guess, I would think that from the secrets this one was the hardest to figure out.
I think it took 10 years.
It wasn’t until I became a mistress to Mr.Big, a secret lover, that it started to dawn on me that I liked another woman “there”.
Even if it meant I was the lover, the mistress.
I felt more at ease there than being in a monogamous relationship, that much was certain.

Needing a dominant lover was a relatively easy thing to figure out.
And when it comes to behavior between the sheets, most men are willing to do you a favor.
What took a whole lot of extra time, was realizing that a desire for a dominant in sex or a dominant lover, was rooted in a need to be wanted.
I didn’t know that.
It does explain why I feel so hurt and immediately want to leave if I feel a lover doesn’t want me.
If my lover doesn’t want me, I have no business being around him.
It may explain why I took the breakup (December 2019) reasonably well;
I don’t put up a fight, when I ve already lost.

It also took the full 14 years, until this week, which is why I consider my journey finished, to realize why all the men I had amazing sex with left me.
And that is because being domineering in bed, and being able to make me feel wanted – or even wanting me – are not the same as wanting a relationship.
And this brings me to something no one has ever brought up.

5. The Biggest Secret I Discovered About Relationships Has Been Around Since 50 Shades

In the entire 50 Shades discussion, where Christian Grey negotiates his liaison with Anastasia with an extensive contract about what it is they are going to do, I have not heard anything about which I consider now to be the biggest secret I learned.

It was also never mentioned in the consent/ no consent conversation around Netfix’s streambuster “365 Days” where a Massimo abducts Laura and gives her 365 days to fall in love with him.

It’s so simple though.

Not only did these men make the women they desired feel wanted.
Not only were they both dominant in bed.
But *drum roll* they also both laid out the structure their relationship was going to have!

Ana got her say in anything from her hard limits to how much time they would spend together every week.
And Laura knew she would be held captive, but never be touched unless or until she would be literally begging for it.
And Massimo kept his word.

Both women were not just consistently asked for their consent; The structure of the relationship was mapped out for them.

I bet my writing pen, my Lauren Harteveld 2.0 rebirth, and all the lovers that I will probably no longer ever have because I am the strong bold blogger LS Harteveld who nobody dares to date – I bet all those things it was never Christian Grey’s money we fancied.
Nor being robbed of our free will by Mossano.
It was never because we – let’s make that “I” and not hide – wanted rapey sex,
although of course I want that too.

No, the thing that explains both the appeal of 50 Shades as well as 365 Days is that it depicts a dominant man, who stands for his desire for a woman.
He wants her.
And yes he lives up to his end of the bargain and is a good lover.

And yet still, it was never even about dominance or wanting her, or being a good lover.

In the end what explains the appeal of the movies, and men like Christian and Mossano, is that they wanted and offered, a real relationship, right from the get go. 

The most deviant thing of all, I guess 😉 

An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living

(paragraph below is still part of the original blog/ draft. I ve kept it in because I like to share this in its complete form, just like I found it)

The Journey Has Ended – but will be continued in modest form

I really have no idea how often I will write here.
From 2006-2020 I ve written a lot- but it was tied to finding out who I was sexually and relationship-wise, and didn’t really come with instructions of what the 2020 maintenance dose should be after I had reached my destination.

Nor was it set up knowing that I would be so uncomfortable to give up writing now that we are here – at the end of our journey, and coming to terms with the fact that maybe Writing was my Lover all along…
I feel so trapped and confused thinking about how I was always not chosen as a real relationship, yet at the same time I know quitting writing is not the solution.

What I do know is that I feel strong(er) with writing, than without.
And a little less as if the 14 years were in vain.

So until next time it is then, my friend.

An unexamined life is not worth living



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.

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/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

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my favorite “diabolic” relationship: Detective Nick Curran and writer Catherine Tramell in Basic Instinct (1992) Promotional photo.

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

Dear Sara,

This letter was originally a letter to my pen pal, the one I call “Nikki” in my 1996 series.
He had written me last week, and as excited as I was with it, I just realized this morning (Sunday morning):
“Fuck! I still have not written Nikki back!”
And in my mind I saw my week calendar coming up, realizing I would not get around to it before Tuesday at the earliest, if I did not do it this morning. 
But before I could shift gears to the sexual, the cheerful, the playful, I needed to share what had happened here in the Netherlands, that had upset me so much.
That had in fact, cost me an entire week.
Including all the days where I could have been writing him back, and – in all honesty – that WOULD have been the better time investment.
But then after 800 words, and still trying to understand how two scandals had been able to hijack all my free hours so effortlessly – what was the common denominator? how were these two scandals  linked? – I realized I did not want this in my relationship with him (Nikki).
Writing him would have to wait, until I felt playful and sexual.
But the 800 words I had already written, were valuable.
I was certain that I would not have been so mesmerized by the news and Twitter, if it had not touched on something deeply personal.
There was a lesson in there that had already cost me 5 days, multiple Facebook diary entries (the C diaries), numerous tweets, and now 800 words.
I did not want to let those investments go to waste.
So here it is:
The story about what happened this week, the coachable version where I grow and stuff! 
And then later today I ll see if there is still life, under the belt. 

Welcome to The Netherlands!
Where You Can Spend 1.6 billion But Not Have Sex In An Unequal Relationship

(Dear Nikki,)
Okay it’s a Sunday Morning now and I wish I had written you sooner!
Not because I owe it to you or something, but because I was so happy to hear from you.
But I think the damage had already been done.

The tone of the week was already set, the ship had sailed, and although I did not know it back then, I was basically going to throw away one week of my life.
It had already cost me my joy, peace of mind, sexuality, and possibly my future if I had not, finally, yesterday night, found a way to untie myself from the horror that was going on in The Netherlands.

It was not even my own accomplishment that I could break the spell and pick up the pieces of my life.
It was because by then I had witnessed for 48 hours that everybody on Twitter was (finally?);
Equally appalled.
Equally angry.

And also; Equally trying to find the nuance on a second topic that had been bogging me since Tuesday, just like the first topic had.

It is frustrating to have TWO political topics “escalate” (I think the word escalate suggests too much simplicity in the matter, when of course these things are never simple), but “escalate” in the same 24 hours (Tuesday), and to then have that day in, day out, feeling that something is so very frickin’ off!
you keep refreshing all the regular, official, news sites, and the most obvious point of view or opinion is never on there.

But by Friday it had turned around.
The news sites were still mild, or only addressed it in a roundabout way:
But on Twitter there
was not a single message, that was favorable to the ludicrous plan of our minister of public health to “invest” 1.6 billion dollars in a shadow “test for entrance” society, which he has set up and is already running without any democratic process.

He’s rolling out a (commercially run!) dystopian Brave New World layer over our entire society.

Even when you’re vaccinated, you will have to get tested first (with a €7,50 personal fee) before you get a 24 hour time window to visit a restaurant, cinema and so on.

The first 0.7 billion will already be gone, {Dutch tweet thread that estimates the costs of first months at 1.6 billion euros}
but next week the minister has to pass a law to get his way.

Even though the regular news sites are not yet entirely up to speed with the anger and the rage of the Dutch;
I m convinced that by now this law cannot be passed through parliament.

We will not have a society where we have to buy back our freedom, one 24 hours at a time.

The other topic that bothered me was a politician who has been sent home because he is a 40+ gay man who has been grooming barely legal teens for years.
And now these boys have come out with their stories, about how they felt dirty or used, or just weird.
Again: This topic was on Twitter 24 hours before the first news site even mentioned it.
Basically, it was kept off the news sites, until the decision to fire him was already made, but that is extremely weird if you read on Twitter all these stories from those boys, and to then not have national media mention it;
It’s very surreal.

I m still coming to grips with it, why this sexual scandal disturbed me so much and I think I’ve finally gotten my head around it:
It’s because I resent how we allow for all kinds of power differences, dependencies, and allow for the giving away of power not just to exist in society, but we actually encourage making disempowering choices all the time.

What we call “security”, usually means a dependency on one employer or one relationship partner.

What we call “health care”, usually means a dependency on the medical world. The moment something is wrong, we throw it over the fence of the hospital and expect them to fix it.

What we call “economy”, means that we support ALL life styles where money exchanges hands, at the legalized level of life.
That’s why (street) drug abuse is not supported: Regular business and government do not make money off of selling street coke or heroin, which is why that lifestyle is frowned upon.
But because the legal businesses and government make money selling alcohol, potato chips and donuts; You can get those all you want.

I even read an interesting article about “active mobility”, doing your commute by foot or on bicycle: 
(Dutch) Fietsen is veel beter voor het klimaat dan elektrische auto

Active mobility, meaning getting everybody to walk or cycle to work, is a much faster route to getting clean transportation than to develop electrical cars.
But cyclists are not a part of economy, the way car buyers are.
So that solution is never pushed/ facilitated and we’re supposedly dependent on an affordable Tesla which will still cause much more pollution than cycling.

Dependency, is so interwoven with our society, that we don’t even see it anymore.

None of us are taught, EVER, what the difference is between having  power and not having power.
And that people who have it, will almost automatically use it for their own gain or that of their friends, so that they can gain even more power.

If you look at the FACTS, there really is no other conclusion than that human nature, is either inherently evil, or accidentally evil;
And that it takes a lot of things to have gone right in the way you were raised and in who you are, and THEN it will also take an incredible amount of resources in the broadest sense,
for you to not grow up a 40+ politician who has either just spent 1.6 billion euros of his people on a megalomaniac project that will bring his country to bankruptcy or civil war in the upcoming years;
Or a politician who has been grooming barely legal teens just dropping his name, and making sexual remarks and not taking any responsibility for hurting and damaging these boys who deserved to be protected and guided.

It takes a lot to NOT become that.

And the only difference between the two is that spending 1.6 billion  state funding on commercial parties, goes by unpunished.
Maybe you’ll be halted in your tracks after the first 0.7 billion, but that’s basically as bad as it’s gonna get.

Whereas for the sex with the teen boys you will be fired and Twitter crucified.
Which by the way, is not because the boys wanted that, but because Twitter thought that was the appropriate punishment and after 24 hours your employer/party agreed with Twitter. 

In hindsight the situations with the two politicians behaving badly, and only the sexual one being sent home, raised a VERY FUNDAMENTAL question for me!
And one I will totally bring home, but first:

By now this letter is of course entirely fictional!
There was no frickin way I was going to let it come THIS far, writing this much heavy ass stuff to my pen pal “Nikki”.
The part that was initially written for Nikki, ended paragraphs ago.

But let’s move on and bring it home.

The relevant questions is this:
Shouldn’t any discussion about financial violence or sexual violence , or simply “violence”, or maybe even “any discussion” FIRST be preceded by a fundamental analysis on dependency?

That you cannot discuss abuse of power, or power differences, before you know how there is a dependency, why, and what the instruments or weapons in the toolbox are, of both parties.
How could the outcome have been different?

For example, discussion on Twitter is now around “empowering” young gay men, or what type of protection they could benefit from.
However, there is also a lot of push back to this, because it is in part victim blaming.
It has the suggestion that if you have not properly defended yourself, the victim is to blame.
Which is of course a horrible suggestion.

However, if you start from the viewpoint that both politicians are inherently evil (meaning without empathy and selfishly going after their own gain), or that they are incompetent;
You can easily see that no solution can be expected from them.

So unless you have an idea on how we are going to turn every man to the path of the righteous and the enlightened;
The only way to deal with financial and sexual violence, is to empower the ones who can fall victim to these predators.

And that is the discussion where, if you do it from a broad perspective, you can start making lists of your resources, your weapons, your desired outcomes.

What do you need (f.e. extreme financial independence) to no longer be disturbed by government spending 1.6 billion and risking civil war?

What do you need (f.e. a tribe that supports you) to own your sexuality and therefor also be totally immune to grooming?

The reason I stared for five days at my news feed and Twitter, is because I needed that time to realize that I refuse to start discussing something at the level of the problem.
Because the problem is always the same:
People are inherently evil or inadequate.

And the solution is also always the same:
You have to strive to be completely independent.
You have to strive for FREEDOM

The moment you are willing to give up your freedom, and let someone else make decisions for you:
You re fucked.
(because: People are inherently evil or inadequate.)

You must have a clear view of why you do things, even when you do them for money. Even when you do them for your own gain!
And in particular:
If you do them to survive……

Whether it’s a normal job to live a normal life;
Whether it’s dating a 40+ year old because at that moment in time he’s the only one who can bring you further to where you want to be;
Or whether you get away with 1.6 billion euros;
Keep. Your. Eyes. Open!

Look death in the eye.
Look poverty in the eye.
Look evil in the eye.
Look in the mirror and see if evil is there!

Be there on the brink of the inferno of your life, always on the edge between what is right and what is wrong, knowing that you will most likely make the wrong choice.
Knowing that most people that evil.
And that you’re either going to end up being hurt, OR you re going to end up hurting others.

And train yourself, coach yourself, and never let go of yourself;
To be okay with that.

Because in order to find God:
You must first be undisturbed by the devil.


An unexamined life is not worth living



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Emphatic* Thoughts On Why You Should Take The Vaccine

tenor (34)Let’s first acknowledge that I’m not writing this for those who believe in the science backing up that mRNA Covid19 vaccination is a good thing.
The people who are choosing based on numbers and science, do not need convincing.
And even more so today, when information leaked from China, that their traditional method of extracting a vaccine has supposedly led to a (traditional) vaccine that is less effective.

I am also not writing this for the ones who identify with a certain religion, a certain spiritual lineage or leader, or who deeply align with certain principles, such as freedom of choice or a desire to keep things close to how mother nature intended them.
They will not need extra information or input on their decision.

They have their faith to guide them.
And we should respect that because ultimately, no one knows the answer for certain.

What I will say, and I may risk getting my message removed from the socials, so I will speak about this in the most careful terms, is that from the perspective of risk spreading I m actually surprised all governments seem to be aiming at vaccinating as many people as possible.
Where I think keeping part of your population non-vaccinated is always a good idea, and although you cannot and should not withhold vaccines: If part of your population does not want it, I think that comes up with a perfect mix of 10-20% staying unprotected.

It’s like with those bananas you can get in the supermarket since the 50’s: They’re all Cavendish bananas, they’re “clones”, infertile, and were selected because they were resistant to the Panama disease that wiped out their predecessor Gros Michel.

But in 2008 the race 4 mutation of the same Panama disease started affecting Cavendish, and to this day no one knows what bananas we’ll be eating in the future.
Gen-mo bananas (which might be resistant to Panama race 4) are not allowed to be shipped worldwide.

All trade and research and development has been focused on planting and trading one sterile, cloned banana, for 70 years.

Whereas if they had kept 20% of production Gros Michel – which was also the best tasting banana!-
or if they had immediately started developing new seedless banana types, for some variety, chances to beat Panama race 4, would have been much better.

So I think that it should never be the aim to get everybody vaccinated, if 70 years from now you want to be prepared for your version of the Panama race 4 mutation.
Don’t put all your eggs in the same basket.

There are stories about the black plague wiping out entire villages, but the people who survived, have brought forth offspring with DNA that protects them to hiv/AIDS.
Here’s an article/research that states 10% of Europeans being hiv resistant because of it:

So translating to today’s standards, where not wanting to be vaccinated is a personal choice and you will, or should, be able to get vaccinated;
Never underestimate the tremendous value of people who don’t and are willing to risk getting sick.
It might prove to be extremely valuable one day.

But I m getting sidetracked, because this post is really not about to vaccinate or not to vaccinate from a medical or scientific perspective!
It is about why you may consider doing it from a social perspective.

I feel all discussion has polarized to:
People who see their health as something personal, are against vaccination.
And people who feel a collective HEALTH responsibility are pro.

I think the space to have more people choose vaccination, appears when we step away from the medical model of:
vaccination = immunity = protecting people

The anger people who are pro-vaccination feel towards people who are not, exists because they’re using very limited reasoning.
There is a certain laziness in their plea… as much as I hate to use this word:
Assuming everybody will get vaccinated because it’s the “good” thing to do,
“because” you protect other people?
There is a certain entitlement in that…..

A certain:
“I m not sharing my real fear and vulnerability. I m not asking you to put yourself on the line for me so I can sleep sound.
I want you to do it because it’s RIGHT!”

Well I don’t know about you, but I get extreme allergic reactions to assumptions made on me doing something because
I have to
because it is right
because it is a sign I am a good person
because it gives me the right to even exist
Or whatever!

I immediately throw myself in antagonist mode, because I WILL SHOW AND I WILL PROVE!
That I bow to no one.

That no one can make me do ANYTHING!

That I will rather DIE, than comply with your wishes.
Because I feel that if I start doing this for you?
It will never end.

First it’s social distance.
Then it’s test and trace.
Then it’s vaccinate
And 70 years from now you will still be ringing my doorbell with new things you want from me.

I know how totally annoying it is when you (and me) are expected to just roll over and comply.
Rebelling against that is as appealing to me as it is to you.
And probably even more to me.

But what I am offering is this:
What if we forgive people for not asking nicely?

What if we forgive people for not knowing how to ask, in an honest, disarming way:
“Covid really scares me. And it would make me feel so much better if you were vaccinated,
because then I don’t have to worry.
Will you do that for me?”

What if we made vaccination not something we do to physically protect each other,
but to mentally protect each other?
Vaccination as a sign of courtesy that you understand the fear, and that you are happy to take the vaccine,
including running any risks. That it is not your or my job to fully understand what is best for us INDIVIDUALLY;
Because unless you re prepared to be the sole survivor of this pandemic, by making the right choice every step of the way, you have chosen to be part of society.

Behaving in a way most people need to be comfortable around you,
is the price of living in a community.
Just like we don’t run around naked, but cover up and wear clothes instead.
Being naked is much healthier but we accept that wearing clothes is a price for being part of society.

And you could even take it one step further;
What if people looked up to you?
What if your position in society means that people are influenced by how you think about it,
by the choice you make?

How do you think Jesus, or Buddha, or contemporary spiritual leaders, or world leaders,
view the vaccine or would have viewed the vaccine?
Do you think these people would have made their choice based on what THEIR body needed?
I think not.

I think they would say what Aragorn says, when Legolas the Elf points out the dangers of the approaching armies at Helm’s Deep.
And how the warriors of Helm’s Deep are either too young, or too old. Their armor poor.
Legolas predicts, speaking in Elvish, that the people of Helm’s Deep will die in battle.
And then Aragorn, their future king, says to Legolas in common speech:
“Then I shall die as one of them.”

It is not up to you to avoid death.
Nor to avoid battle.
It is not up to you to judge the armor, or the condition of the warriors.

It is up to you to take your place in battle.
Side by side, with your people.

It is up to you, who shall be made King.


An unexamined life is not worth living

[*] Probably because I am not a native English speaker, I used the word emphatic (thoughts) , when it should have been “empathetic”.
Emphatic:  done or said in a strong way and without any doubt
Empathetic: having the ability to imagine how someone else feels
But since this piece came out so outspoken, and with great clarity, I did not change the title when I discovered my mistake.
It is indeed, emphatic.

Emphatic Thoughts On Why You Should Take The Vaccine
is part of a series on my Facebook called
The Covid Diaries – Countdown to free hugs
| report on the final months of social distancing

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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,
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Button on this page, probably on the top right.

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/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

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