In Bed With | #2 BTS

Truth or Dare was internationally released as In Bed With Madonna

This is the 2021 behind the scenes (BTS) diary, of my third time travel year 1996-1997.
I describe the choices for my 1996 life and its diary posts.
Subscribe to this blog to receive both series in your Inbox.


Thursday 18 November 2021      

posted on Facebook

It s 2.45 AM here, and this may or may not be the appropriate time to type a small update about why I’ve had my Lauren 1996 project, where I live and write as if it is 1996;
As well as its twin real time project, or log “Behind The Scenes” (BTS),
bottom out before they had any momentum, or even before they had one word on record- as was the case with Lauren 1996.

Publishing book 1 and 2 1994-1996 also; entirely bottomed out.
I m glad the files/ work was saved, as far as I know.

Because the past week I’ve had an avalanche of major and minor very 21st century (not 1996) technical problems.
And that s not counting a change in internet cable providers, which is scheduled for December and buying a new mobile phone, I m typing this on my to-be-replaced one which is old and will soon start getting technical hiccups, incompatibility in apps etc

Yet that same geriatric phone is currently the only fully functional, connected computer in my house.
Although the number was changed a few days ago, but otherwise it s the same familiar, has-no-secrets-from-me, love-you-at-3 AM when I can t sleep, companion.

Now I did see how my forced time off from my normal/desktop 21th century computer could benefit my Lauren 1996 project, and it did for the first days.
But now the stress of all the things I can t do, have to postpone or remember to pick up when I have a computer that s online;
That stress is starting to accumulate.

I m now LESS in 1996 head space than before phone and computer problems started.

So that s it in a midnight nutshell.
I think in order to play-pretend it s 1996, I need my 2021 tech to be stable.
But things that need fixing, tweaking or learning, because I have new software/systems, those things take time.
Combined with not having a computer to blog with meant I d only be able to write on my phone anyway.

Which is great for 3.25 AM at night!

Because so far that has been the biggest cost;
Not the missed blog posts, not the delay in all the admin or correspondence, not the book publishing that didn’t get done.

The biggest cost is not sleeping, knowing you have to get up early.
And hoping tomorrow 2021 will be up and running, so you can go back to 1996 and forget it existed.

.
Saturday 20 November 2021      

1990 Madonna-DancersThe good news is my internet is working to the point that I can use WordPress, and have more options than making midnight Facebook posts.
The bad news that it still throws me off often enough to cause problems because the connection is frequently lost and I need it even more often than I did with the previous laptop because I need to personalize settings, download software, type full urls and enter my full usernames the first time I visit all my regular sites.

I just spent half an hour going back and fro to get an English spelling check here on this blog.
But regardless what I tried it kept being stuck in Dutch, underlining the entire post.

It turned out that downloading the English dictionary had failed which was why it was still in Dutch and kept underlining every English word.

And I m afraid the assignment of a mechanic has gotten lost with the provider, because it’s been 48 hours and they were going to call for an appointment.
So we’re on our own here!
With a glass fiber cable that is most likely hanging by a thread, or a modem that has a loose connection. But I’m here, and the hard earned spelling check is working, so I’m not complaining!

And there was more news, on the Lauren 1996-1997 front.

I’ve fallen prey again to not being able to sleep, feeling overwhelmed and suffering from anxiety.
I don’t wake up sick like I did for four months this year, nor have the 2020 migraines returned, yet I fear that if I get this wrong, they will soon be here to join the party.
It is key that I pick wisely;
What is worth getting upset over, losing sleep over?

In the final entries from my time travel project, dating from October, Lauren 1996 even more strongly, taps into being well-dressed, friendly and cool.
She does this by remembering a room mate who was an escort, and how she had always wanted to be so “together”, and she recommits to this vision.
But something else has happened, in 2021. An inspiration came by that I cannot pass on, which was the documentary In Bed With Madonna (1991).

It was the first movie I ever went to see multiple times, only to be matched shortly after by Basic Instinct. 
Even Fight Club and Lord of the Rings, many years later- I can’t remember seeing them more often than once in cinemas…

I read an analysis for the 30th anniversary of In Bed With Madonna, that how boldly she expresses her sexuality and her stardom, are unprecedented. 
Modern day music documentaries may attempt to portray their stars in the same authentic manner- but that it revolves much more about relatability and being vulnerable;
Not about being a super star and owning that!

In Bed With Madonna has got balls.
And so do I, which is why that movie appealed to me from the very beginning.

To give you a bit of background story: Although I AM a writer (meaning I need it like others need to breathe), my chosen profession for a long time was to be a yoga teacher.
In recent years I quit group classes, and I was still in the process of reinventing it when Covid happened.

If it wasn’t for Covid I would definitely have picked up teaching group classes again, but instead I quit my business and ended the lease of my yoga space.
But the quest for how to revive my old profession stayed.

The broad strokes of what it is I will be doing (and have started on and off) is to build a badass online yoga community through free YouTube classes, and then start teaching to that particular community in a one-off event style, locally as well as internationally, when Covid regulations have been lifted.

Watching In Bed With Madonna, gave me the missing piece both to framing my yoga, as well as to the identity or the energy to teach it with.
I saw with great clarity that what I like in her, and which has actually been the thing that turned me to yoga in 1998- was that she is a performer.
When I turned to yoga in 1998 after she had spoken about practicing yoga, it had never been yoga that had lured me in. 

I had bought into the idea of doing yoga because Madonna did yoga (1) 
And the reason I had bought into this was because she was a performer (2)

In other words the entire concept of teaching yoga, having a yoga teacher or being a yoga teacher, had never been part of why I started yoga.
I had yoga teachers, and I became a yoga teacher too, yet that was all unrelated to why I had felt drawn to yoga.

It stayed unrelated for two decades, until being in the yoga world became unbearable.
As far as I can pinpoint it, should being two decades off purpose and off path need pinpointing, then what I have felt happening on entering the yoga world, is that I lost my power.
I lost my authenticity, my sexuality, my joy.
I lost everything I stood for and what pulled me through was the Madonna / yoga connection that kept enchanting me, just thinking about it….

In 2000 Madonna made a movie The Next Best Thing where she plays a yoga teacher, and that movie too was imprinted in me.
It feels the closest to the real yoga, that I feel inside of me and that wants to be expressed, created, still desires to be brought into this world like a book or a story wants to be written!

The mistake I made was thinking the way “to bring it” was by following regular teacher trainings. Or, since I did learn good things there, the mistake I made was not realizing how much work and correcting I would need to do AFTER taking those trainings.
How many miles I would be OFF path, after the diplomas, and that my journey should have been to first go back, unlearn and restart in 2000, the last year when I knew I was still ON path!

In Bed With Madonna made me realize that it was HER energy, that had drawn me not just to yoga but to the entire concept of adult life.

I recall having five visions of being an adult, or being a professional, that I found powerful and alluring. They are in chronological order:

1. being Madonna (1985)
This started in 1985 when she played Desperately Seeking Susan.

2. being an escort (late 80s, early 90s)
I ve always felt attracted to this line of work because the women I knew who did this took excellent care of themselves and were far more sophisticated than other women my age.
As well as smart and independent.

3. being a writer/ Catherine Tramell (Basic Instinct 1992)
Even more so than just wanting to do yoga because of Madonna, it was clear that my desire to become a writer was preceded (and is defined) by wanting to be Catherine Tramell.
In my eyes the cool blonde was someone who knew how the game was played and did not waste time trying to be liked.
Catherine Tramell is a fictional character, just like Madonna’s yoga teacher was a fictional character,  yet she is the only writer I aspire to be, and she is the only reason I became a writer.

4. being a photographer (90s)
Although I started photographing in the 80s, it wasn’t until the 90s that I started toying with the idea of becoming a professional. I was inspired by female photographers Patricia Steur and Annie Leibovitz, and started an education I dropped out of. I just wasn’t that into it.
And I never felt any desire to go back to photography again. 

5. being a yoga teacher (Madonna in The Next Best Thing, 2000)
More or less discussed already.
Madonna turned me to yoga, and then this movie took that up a level by making teaching yoga the coolest job in the world!

What I recognized in In Bed With Madonna, was that I too am a performer.

That the reason only fictional characters inspire me, is because like an actor I play a role. My work, my profession, is to perform.
The reason I dropped out of BEING a yoga teacher, the reason I never was a photographer, a proper normal writer, nor an escort, is that I put those identities on like a coat.

And that what I had done by redesigning my yoga work to teaching for free online, as to lay the foundation to later go on tour and give one-off shows (really!);
Was me turning yoga into the performance art that had appealed to me from the start.
Just like performance art had pulled me to writing, to photography, to escorting, to being Madonna in 1985.

My work, my craft, is to be a performer.
That is what I am drawn to, can get better at, and will be known for.

However, there was a problem with fully adopting early 90s Madonna performance power to teaching yoga;
First of all because I am suffering from anxiety again, making it not very appealing to drop fully into madness and mayhem Blonde Ambition identity.
And secondly, because I had Lauren’s 1996 diaries identifying with Catherine Tramell and a resolution to add the cool and self-care level of escorts. Not to be Madonna.

And with the anxiety having returned, I d also rather commit to their cool.

But fortunately I have found that the two are actually quite alike, in other ways.
That In Bed With Madonna (1991) and Basic Instinct (1992) both portray powerful women with strong sexualities. 

But Madonna is “yang”, energetic, extroverted.
She is the performer of the two, which is why I will be in that energy when I “teach” yoga (as we know now I am actually giving a performance), under my real name.

The character of the writer Catherine Tramell, in Basic Instinct 1992, is poised, introverted, cool. She is “yin”.
Which is why, when I do yoga to ease stress and anxiety, and when I’m living my Lauren1996 life,
I will be in the energy of Catherine Tramell, and I keep my promise to “Lauren” to become more stylish and contained like the elegant sex workers she recalled in her last October chapters.

With that decision – and internet or no internet 😉 – I think we’re all set to travel time!

I therefor expect this post to be the last BTS, Behind The Scenes, for a while!

So the next post will be the first chapter of the new book from Lauren, 1996 – 1997.

Showtime.

~Lauren
An Unexamined Life Is Not Worth Living
.
.

Subscribe to this blog to receive the new episodes of
– Behind The Scenes, about living offline (whether with help from my internet provider or not ;)),
– and its juicy 90s companion Lauren 1996-1997
in your Inbox

Books 

My diaries are available at LULU
New books will be added, including the time travel project books Letter from a stranger and Dear Nikki.

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

We have every right to be powerful, in whatever form of sexuality we choose to have. | #1 BTS

gettyimages-1186181988 klein
GQ Men of the Year 2019 – “Woman of the Year”: Sharon Stone. Full video at the bottom of this post.

We have every right to be powerful, in whatever form of sexuality we choose to have.
And no one is allowed to take that away from you.”

Sharon Stone GQ Awards 2019

This is the behind the scenes (BTS) diary, of my third time travel year 1996-1997.
Subscribe to this blog to receive them in your Inbox.

This first post starts a month ago, because BTS was originally intended to be an offline diary. 

OCTOBER – IT HURTS

Friday 15 October 2021           

For quite a few times today, a day spent only behind my computer because I had one blogpost { one of the final chapters to 1995-1996 } to take down and save, because its sexual explicit content had given me a panic attack, and I also wrote a closing chapter/ final blogpost to a series called The Covid Diaries, and I had an online workshop; 
During that day where I only sat, and worked, and was totally absorbed in basically setting up the basics to transfer my work from blogging, to writing, from online to offline;   
On that day I thought, “That new thing, BTS, is not really necessary. It will only make things more complicated. I will delete it tonight.”           

When now that it’s nighttime I know how crucial this new series is. BTS, Behind The Scenes.     
I need this for my own sanity.

So what happened to writing about my sex life that suddenly bit me in the butt?            
Why didn’t I coach myself to being comfortable with my sexually explicit blog post, called “Promotion”, a chapter to my fictionalized 1996 diary?      
Why didn’t I work through the resistance?         

First of all because the anxiety attack I experienced this morning, was particularly violent.       
I had clearly hit a nerve somewhere, and I felt that taking the post down was a solution that had a limited time window to being effective.         
If I wanted to stabilize with a quick fix, I had to act fast.

The second reason I decided quickly was because I am developing my work and media personality, under my real name.               
My alter ego Lauren Harteveld, now more than ever, needs to be a place of solace. A place of feeling nurtured.                
Not a place where I get stressed out over having sex blogposts.

I’ve known for a while that the nature of my work here would have to change, in order to step into this new role under my real name.  
I just had not thought it through yet.    

Waking up with a panic attack over the sex post was my cue the time had come to scale down on LS Harteveld, and transfer the intimate parts to offline.    
That was the price I was willing to pay for peace of mind, working under my real name and be the real me.

My future was not one where I would wake up suffering from a panic attack from a blog post for my alter ego I had posted the night before.

But thirdly, and this is why it was actually good news and I did not look further for reasons to keep the sex post up, because the final reason I decided I would go underground, was that I want to write so much more about sex!
More explicitly than the post that was already giving me panic attacks.

The post I took down was a 1996 fictionalization of a 2021 email I had sent to a man I correspond with. 
Now it had become a letter Lauren 1996 wrote to an English bootleg trader called Nikki. A blog post. And one that scared me so much, I changed my mind.

The real problem had been that the taken down blogpost was still just a fraction of the honesty and the intimacy I had shared in my email. The contrast had been stark. And confronting.            
Every time I reread my blogpost, I realized it lacked the level of truth and intimacy my email to the real life Nikki had.               
It felt like such a betrayal of something pure. I had censored myself.

Originally, meaning before taking it down, I had planned on writing a second blogpost this weekend.
A second fictional letter to the character of Nikki, but now including details I had left out. And to frame it as being a second letter Lauren in 1996 would write to her friend Nikki, because she had not been ready to share.             

But the panic attack showed me there was no way I would take it up a notch.
New professional-me under my real name, would not be able to write such scary blogposts under my alter ego.      

If I really desired the same level of intimacy in my 1996 diary, as I had displayed in my email to real life Nikki, and I also wanted to become a professional under my real name; 
Then after more than 10 years of being a blogger, the whole online thing had to go.

It’s 10.30 PM now. I feel totally raw, unhappy, overwhelmed, maybe even disappointed.           
If there ever comes a day my work life under my real name starts to make me unhappy, or if I see a way of doing it without feeling threatened by the sexuality of my work here, then I will return to being a blogger.

But for now, this is what it is.

I am no longer a blogger.            
And that hurts…

.
Saturday 16 October 2021      

It got worse before it got much better!  
Going to bed I checked my phone and found a browser open that offered access to yesterday’s Zoom call. It was a url that I had copy pasted manually because the link in the email had not been clickable.          
I usually attend calls both on my laptop to type, and on my telephone for a good camera angle.   
But yesterday, I only remembered being successful at logging in via laptop. As far as I recalled, the phone browser and link had not worked.
Yet here it was, a clear sign that at least the url had worked.

Had I used it, and clicked on an “Okay” to enter the call, without remembering doing it?
Had I been online thinking I was invisible and excusing myself for not being on screen, when all the time I was recorded?

The call was with a group I had not known, and the communication was not entirely in flow. But I had dismissed that, thinking it was because I was communicating through chat only, and that it were all people who did not know each other.           
Had it been because I was visible, in totally unpresentable fashion, and no one told me?

I got the absolute worst panic attack. That morning’s panic attack, triggered by the sex blogpost, was nothing compare to The Biggie that hit me around midnight.          
I was trembling all over my body, I felt sick and I wrote an email to the friend who had organized the call.           
I explained I was unsure if I had opened the Zoom app on my phone.   
“Was I visible?” I asked. “I’ve been crippled with anxiety all day, and thought is daunting! I hope you can help.”

For an hour I tried a variety of tactics from rationalizing the social fear, to projecting it, to ultimately befriending it and accepting its presence. Which was for this crisis situation the best option, although no miracle trick.    
An hour later I was still wide awake and had been checking my email at regular intervals, even though I thought I “should” be able to do without her reassurance.              
But boy, was I happy to read her reply that everything had been more than fine!            
I had not been online with my phone camera.  

Immediately the anxiety subsided and ever since then the return of my generic anxiety has looked like a walk in the park compared to the panic I felt for that hour.      
I can do that!

I slept exceptionally well, and I’m doing great today.

.
NOVEMBER – LET’S DO THIS!! 

Friday 12 November 2021           

In 2019-2020 and 2020-2021, I’ve half-in-half out participated in a performance project, living my life and keeping an online diary as if it is 25 years ago.
These two diaries A Letter From A Stranger (1994-1995) and Dear Nikki (1995-1996), are in their publishing stage, and it has been time to start writing book three for a while now.
Except I didn’t.

After the final chapters for Dear Nikki, which I never published online because it gave me too much anxiety, I did try to start the new book 1996-1997 offline, meaning safer and far less likely to push me over the edge, but to no avail.
I don’t write when it’s offline, I make the wrong choices, avoid adventures.
I am no longer inspired to live a full life, if I keep myself from blogging diary style, about its most meaningful, sexual parts (for one);
And I m also not inspired to live real-time, real pandemic 2021.

I need that extra layer of historical context of analogue (yes I do see the irony here) life, and the performance art based challenge of pretending I’m living my life from being a 20-something living in the 90s.
Not just for my sex life, sex posts, diary of the 90s as Lauren Harteveld;
But I need it for my work under my real name as well.

If I am not online “here” as my alter ego, and if I don’t have that secretive private life which I then share by blogging (and get freaked out about);
Well then I don’t live, write or work in the real world under my real name either!

My two personas really are like a Siamese twin, and if I m committing to creating massive impact, to having big results, and worldly success in every way for the real me?
Then it means I have to amp it up living as Lauren Harteveld too.

And I admit; The time travel projects 1 and 2 have been sloppy in their execution, the first two books have not been all in.
They were more a translation of real time events, to a fictional 90s past, but I wasn’t living it in the moment.
I never did business as if it was the 90s, never made love as if I was in my twenties, I was using the fictionalization of my past as a construct instead of as the performance art it was always intended to be!

For book 3 no more sloppy time travelling allowed.

So last night, I made a list. And I made it short. I left EVERYTHING out, that I knew was critical to feeling good, everything I knew that would frustrate me if I didn’t do it, and everything that would have to be in place before I could get to my core activities for which I wanted to be known.
Because for what has been somewhere between a week and a few years, I have tried to schedule my daily routine so that all the things that matter to me get done. And instead the only thing that got done – and very consistently! – was whatever I felt like doing! What inspired me. And the things that had to get done got done too, and if frustrations reached peak level or deadlines closed in, then all the other things got done as well.

In other words, both my personal preferences, my sexuality for sure (2021 was the best sexual year of my life!), my financial obligations, my social life, and everything else;
It had a way of getting done.
It took care of itself not because I had scheduled it, but despite of it.

However, what did not get done, was what I really want to be known for;
To be a world famous rock star writer, who does yoga.
Well technically the writing did get done, it always gets done because it’s what comes natural. Yoga didn’t get done at all, but that’s not my biggest worry to be honest.
But the part of rock star writer that didn’t get done, or not consistently, was the business side of it. Meaning publishing, selling, and speaking about my work, the being of the rock star writer did not happen.

There has not been a visible rock star writer, not under any of the two names, to relate to.

I have been invisible.

Which is why, I kept this list of what Lauren 1996 would be committing to every day, short.
Very short.

  1. do yoga or teach yoga
  2. publish books

I fell asleep thinking of myself as Lauren 1996. And as I type this, again, I can feel her living in me.

For the first time since 2019, the summer I started my time travel project, I can feel it is working.

This morning I worked on publishing my books. I took the book on Basic Instinct/ Catherine Tramell, which I pulled from publishing, and that has been on my desk for weeks now to get improved and republished.
I found a reference to the 2019 GQ speech Sharon Stone made, which was about how she dealt with feeling exposed after Basic Instinct came out, and although I had made up my mind and had decided to write the new time travel diary 1996-1997 online just like its predecessors;
This speech was exactly what I needed to hear at this time.

It was about making a conscious decision about what to do with that part that you fear, sometimes correctly obviously, others will use to shame you and try to destroy you.

“Time to decide what you do with the tender, important, beautiful, savage, passionate, most important part of yourself. 
What are you gonna do with it?
I ll tell you what I did with mine.

I respected it.”

.
Lauren

An Unexamined Life Is Not Worth Living
.

Subscribe to this blog to receive the new episodes of
– Behind The Scenes, about living offline,
– and its juicy 90s companion Lauren 1996-1997
in your Inbox

Books 

My diaries are available at LULU
New books will be added, including the time travel project books Letter from a stranger and Dear Nikki.

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

So far SO not good. So Lauren1996 will return!

EbTyNI-U0AA_U0E
Madonna earliest of 80s

A few weeks ago I quit blogging here, because the anxiety of writing my 1996 diary, which is my life now translated to 25 years ago, was getting in the way of what I must also do.
Of what is also, my life and destiny.
But, as is already implied in that sentence, naturally, I also have an obligation here.

I have not forgotten my art here, the time travel project and the diary.
Although at times I wished I could have forgotten it.

The whole writing offline and working in silence on publishing my books, fell to pieces when a few weeks ago I discovered mistakes in one of my books, which I had already tried to correct. When the “improved” test copy came in and I discovered I had actually made it worse, I decided to pull the book from publishing, and give it a proper review.
To not just correct the layout mistakes that had gotten in there (blank pages etc) when I made my corrections and added another chapter as well;
But to do a page-by-page review, really getting into the details and be sure I wanted them that way.

I wanted to make absolutely certain that when I received the next test copy, I would not find  any mistakes. 

Ever since I’ve started to publish my books last year, I ve been consumed with perfectionism. But it’s perfectionism with a vengeance, because in the initial printing process I can bypass it!
I KNOW done is better than perfect.
Not just because if I have the choice between doing 20 books with some minor errors or 4 books perfectly?
I have to choose the 20 good-enough ones.
I simply write way, way too much to do it otherwise.

So there is that practicality, that logic behind being a superfluous writer that anyone can understand, but there’s also a more primal emotion to it.
Because I like my work to be a bit raw and bloody, and have some errors.

If I regret anything then it’s reviewing my older books too often, because I felt it cost me both too much time as well as in some cases possibly the very soul of the book. 
I recall one in particular, and I never actively sold that book ever in the four years it’s been for sale.
So I knew very well not to go overboard with the editing.

Yet with the books I published afterwards and even (now) pulled from publishing, the opposite happened.
I don’t actively sell those either, because I’m afraid that there are mistakes in there!
So I ve learned from the past – I now do publish them without overdoing the editing. I do not make the same mistake twice and “Done is better than perfect” is my badge of honor really.
But then it bites me in the ass:
I read them and find mistakes, and feel uncomfortable selling them because of one little tiny mistake I saw.
Or I don’t dare to read them and then I don’t sell them because I didn’t read them out of fear.

Even though, and now you’re really going to see how badly I m doing in this area, way more often I read them and think:
“This is so good! How funny! How well written! I m so proud.”
Yet perfectionism just blocks it.
Not in the first editing and publishing round, like it does with other writers.
But afterwards.

I can’t get into the swing of selling.

And now, November 2021 or November 1996 as it is in my time travel project, I am no longer blogging a diary because it gives me anxiety;
Which has resulted in my love life and sexuality dying on me.
It has resulted in not writing.
And ultimately, I think you guessed it, in not living.

As desirable or even nessecary, a smoothed out life without any secrets and any reason for anxiety, seems at times (I ve taken Lauren 1994-1996 offline half a dozen times and counting!);
Ultimately it is not for me.

I will have to learn with my chaotic, fear-filled double life, like I have to live with books having rough edges.

My attempts at proper, worthy, perfect books are blocking my life’s force, just like my attempts at a proper worthy life is blocking it.

Yes, I am messy. 
Irresponsible.
Imperfect.
Loud.
And so are my books.

But for the past couple of weeks I ve been dead, and I can only hope it’s not too late for any of the things I lost to be saved.
To put my pulled book back online.
To slam those diaries into a cover and hit publish.
Pull myself up by my bootstraps and get back into the saddle of everything.
I hope my sex life is not dead for good.

I hope that underneath the cleaned up properness, something, is still breathing.

.
Lauren

An Unexamined Life Is Not Worth Living
.

Subscribe to this blog to receive the new episodes of Lauren 1996 in your Inbox.

Books 

My diaries are available at LULU
New books will be added, including the time travel project books Letter from a stranger and Dear Nikki.

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

I’m on it! (and it’s my best work) | diaries 1994-1996

 

photo from “1994 Was a Prison of My Own Making” https://www.nytimes.com/2019/05/14/style/enjoy-the-silence.html 

I quit blogging this weekend, and simultaneously found out that publishing what I consider my Magnum Opus – or Magnum “Opi” as the first installment is already going to be two books, not one! – that publishing this most significant work is probably not going to be the “muscle through it”- sprint I hoped it would be.

The reason I want it done is so I can start curating and solidifying my websites, my online work.

But publishing those two diaries 1994-1995 and 1995-1996,  including the very sexually explicit final chapters, seems to be more accurately categorized as;
Things that are going to massively freak me out.

Things I’m going to lose sleep over.

Things that are going to impact and delay the more easy-going, less-intense career I want to establish under my real name.

Something that is going to bear the characteristics of a marathon and not a sprint.

And I am not an endurance athlete, endurance writer, endurance anything. I m only good at things that forcefully push themselves out of me, despite me not making an effort, despite me not setting time aside.
My projects need to take over my life, if they want to get done.

Instead of having my life taken over a few days, publishing my Magnum Opi could take over my life for weeks or even months.
Which is definitely more than I am willing to invest.

I want them done this week, order them on Friday, and then within two weeks I will have them ready for sale and can start curating the website. With those two books successfully published, my most important work has been converted to print.
If anything happens to my content or I don’t store it right or something, then at least they were saved.

How to go about this?
This little twin monster of my most important work, two books, at the verge of taking over my life? (I feel they’re negotiating who gets to sink their teeth in which part of me!)
I don’t know.
Maybe praying to a higher power, would be my best option.

Anyway, as I was preparing to write you this quick update, I started looking for a New York Times article about a time travel project of one week, to 1994.
But instead I found a music scene documentary of the beginning of this 90s era.

It’s available on YouTube.

1991 – The Year Punk Broke

And Generation X in a Time Capsule
a New York Times long read about this documentary and its context.

But the article I was looking for, before I found the 1991 music scene documentary, was this article.
It is about a journalist who lives for one week as if she’s in 1994:

1994 Was a Prison of My Own Making
25 years ago was yesterday and a million years ago.
By Caity Weaver | May 14, 2019

So with the extra documentary I found some pretty intense and grungy stuff about the time period I was investigating.
Which has only made me more adamant  that ultimately writing about 25 years ago, or writing about the 90s, is my jam.

Last weekend I stopped blogging, online writing for The Diary Project, or the time travel project, but only so I can give it more,  and be even more candid in my writing offline.

That first diary I am about to publish – the one I decided with 99% certainty needs to be two books, not one – that is only the beginning.
It is the first diary, or they are the first two diaries of my Magnum Opus.

I will keep writing.

The diary project, or the time travel project, is my deepest work as a writer, and ultimately all my work here will somehow be tied to that. 

The reason I consider my time travel diaries my most important work, is because it is my most layered project, consisting of all the aspects that is me or my work or interests.

They are at heart a performance project, or time capsule project.
I cultivate the mindset and experience of being 25 years younger and live as if it is 25 years ago.

The second reason is, they are done as diary writing and letter writing, which are my most developed forms of writing.

The third is because I get to play with elements that reflect my development, choices,  and difficulties, in being a writer, and/OR a yoga teacher.
My real life career choices are in the books.

But most importantly of course, I like the books because they are rooted in my sexual life.
I don’t think I would be able to fully express my  sexuality if it wasn’t for the fact that I can write about my experiences.

Since I was a teenager I’ve known I need high levels of tension and excitement, to get aroused. From a wider perspective I would say my sexuality was more comparable to those of boys, than those of girls.
I needed to feel safe with someone, and was aware being a girl made me vulnerable, but I was less inclined to pushing or looking for relational security. I didn’t need a relationship to feel sexually explorative.

Although I was often very much in love, when it came to sexual experimenting I needed friendly comradery, more than romance.

Ever since then the road has been rocky, and at times I have given in to fears that made the road flat. I have been in long-term relationships that were ultimately not just sexually unsatisfying because they didn’t carry enough tension and excitement;
They were detrimental for my personal growth.

To me monogamy, defined as both me but in particular my partner only having me/each other to be physically and emotionally intimate with, that monogamy is damaging.
It’s the quickest way to create a life of stability and perhaps even physical health, because the stress levels remain low.
But I don’t grow in monogamous relationships the way I do when I get challenged b
y the unpredictability of other, non-specified and more playful, relationship styles.
They bring me more pleasure, more satisfaction but in particular because of their counter parts of jealousy, fear, and uncertainty;
They bring me more growth.

Sure all those aspects of my life give me panic attacks, and more often than not I think I am NOT cut out for this.
That it’s too much and all the stress of never being in a normal boy meets girl, princess and prince charming relationship or marriage, is eating me alive.
That I can’t take it anymore.

But then I know:
Of course I can.

This is what I am here for.

My Time Travel Project, and its first two upcoming books
A letter from a stranger 1994-1995
and
Dear Nikki 1995-1996
are about capturing that life, in between lovers, in between careers, in between immobilizing fear and insatiable fascination.
All set to a backdrop of the 90s.

And not just for a week.

.
Lauren

An Unexamined Life Is Not Worth Living.

Books 

My diaries are available at LULU
New books will be added, including the time travel project books Letter from a stranger and Dear Nikki.

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

[ all posts will be deleted ] | 1996 Dear Nikki

ed9182b51537ecfcde4b802abeadedfe
Nikki Sixx as English bootleg trader and record store owner Nikki

I’m sorry, but I have decided to delete this post, and I will be deleting all my old work here.
I am suffering from anxiety attacks, something that was briefly mentioned in this blog post. My work lies elsewhere but my anxiety has been tied to what I share here,
I just can’t have my LS Harteveld work hovering over me or hiding under the bed.

I will stay active on 
my Facebook page
Twitter: @LSHarteveld
And I will continue curating and publishing the work I wrote online from 2010 – 2021.

Within three weeks I will have what I consider to be my magnum opus, ready for you for sale.
It is book 1 and book 2 in the 90s diary series, published in one cover.
The title will be A Letter From A Stranger.

And this site will stay online, and I will too!
Because the anxiety could pass, or because my work could switch to being LS Harteveld again one day, but mostly because I want to stay in touch.
By subscribing to this site, I will have a way to reach you. 

Let’s hope it all pans out, and that the anxiety stops. It’s crippling, and I don’t just mean to my websites 😉 

Speak to you soon.
Take care.
And subscribe!

Lauren
An Unexamined Life Is Not Worth Living

Books 

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

Undocumented Birthday Sex (NSFW) | 1996 diary

Sunday August 8, 1996

10996657_679931672111769_717209370486383676_nWhy do I keep doing this?
Having sex with Bear and then refusing to write about it in my diary?

Is it still the fear I will freak out when I think/overthink letting him come in my mouth?
Are the Aids phobia and the panic attacks still haunting me, is that what this is?

As if I would not take any risk for him, for Bear.
Maybe it is because this fear has been with me for as long as I can remember, longer than Bear.
The fear is more a part of me than Bear is, that much is certain.

But was it really taking that step, about six weeks ago or something, that has made me so careless with cherishing the memories of us having sex?

Or is it the unease of being his mistress since we started having sex again this year?

Why do I throw away memories of something that is so precious to me..
If he decides to stop seeing me, I want to hang on to them, have them in a little box and caress them with my fingertips when he gets married, has his first child, moves to the other side of the country or possibly even migrates, given his work.
I need to build a memory of him, if I can’t build a life.

Yet just like last time, I didn’t.
I didn’t polish that memory and didn’t put it in a jewelry box.
But I did write about it to Nikki, and photocopied that letter before I mailed it out to him. So I have that here in front of me, hoping it will make me remember more.

In the letter, I compared Bear to a professional football player, able to score with the smallest window of opportunity.
Of course! It starts coming back to me now.

I didn’t feel like having sex, and he had made it into such a fun experience. The letter to Nikki was about my understanding that I had to get better at this.
I wanted to be the one who could do that, make things really good in bed and be there when the other is dropping out.
Yet my new year of life started off being just as flaky with sex as ever!

It was Bear who saved the day, and me feeling wishy washy and being totally dependent on his magic.
Even when I should be the one who is flexible and talented, because if I want to have more sex, more lovers, or who knows maybe even a man-
I was about to say “a man for myself” but that is of course not what I want at all.

But let’s say, if I want to have a boyfriend to whom I am the most important girlfriend;
Then I need to “man-up”! 

I can’t keep relying on Bear to warm me up with that deliciously long menu that he serves me a chef’s special of every time I m like:
“I don’t know, I m just not feeling it”, when we’ve already kissed, and I m in his arms and I can feel I m wet, but indeed telling the truth when I say I’m not feeling it.

His jam-packed box of tricks.
The way he pokes around in my head to see what angle I respond to…
We role-played for the first time since we got back together this year, and damn that felt good. It was just a light, exploring session that definitely did not have the emotional danger and intensity we had experienced in our best years.
But Christ, how good to be home.
To be doing this again, him and me.

When he hugged me goodbye at the top of the stairs, and descended to the front door, I stayed there watching, through the long rectangular window in my door.
I admired the determined way he took the concrete stairs to the street, and all I thought was;

“I m fucked”.

And not just literally.

“I asked him to take me in doggy,” I wrote Nikki.
“And that was risky, because it hurts. I could have ruined it all, but I think I was so into the role play that I really wanted to be taken like that. And he did.
I m not going to tell you how dominant he was, because it’s like it ruins it. Like I betray the moment.
But it was so good!
Bear said exactly the right things, everything I wanted to hear and needed to hear, to fully submit and let it come.
It hurt so much, I had forgotten all about it. You can’t remember pain, not like that. Yet I wanted it, and I definitely did not want him to stop. I was afraid that if I expressed the pain he would back down, but I couldn’t help myself.
I was totally into it, the pain, the agony, and a pleasure so deep and raw I had never experienced anything like it.
For the first time ever I came like that. And so did he.
In sports they’d probably call it a team effort.”

.
~Lauren96
An unexamined life is not worth living

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

Undocumented Birthday Sex (NSFW) | 1996 diary
is the fifteenth chapter to
1996 diary 

Find the subscription button on this page.

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

.

Books 

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:
https://zegmaarlauren.com/

Undocumented Sex | 1996 diary

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actor Aidan Quinn, 1980s or 1990s

diary 1996
CHANGING OF THE GUARD
Wednesday July 7, 1996

Well who knew!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

diary 1996
UNDOCUMENTED SEX
Tuesday July 20, 1996

8edea04776dfbe37adce2c1ef509c849
Madonna early 80s

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We didn’t pick up the role playing.

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

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

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

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

Because he asked.

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

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

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

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

And that Lucas was the least of my worries. 

.
~Lauren96
An unexamined life is not worth living

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

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

Find the subscription button on this page.

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

.

Books 

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:
https://zegmaarlauren.com/

True Romance | 1996 diary

diary 1996
SEX REPELLENT
Thursday June 24, 1996

I can’t believe I missed this!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

New theory is that will not happen!

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

I have.

.

diary 1996
TRUE ROMANCE
Saturday June 26

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.
~Lauren96

An unexamined life is not worth living

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

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

Find the subscription button on this page.

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

.

Books 

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:
https://zegmaarlauren.com/

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
MAGIC PANTS
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:
Him.

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
SAD
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
HAPPY
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
A HARD WORKER
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.”
and
“Exposed.”

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. 

.
~Lauren96

An unexamined life is not worth living

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A Hard Worker (NSFW)| 1996 diary
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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.

.
~Lauren96

An unexamined life is not worth living

New diary entries are posted on my Facebook page ;
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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Archive:
1994 A Performance Project
and “1995-1996; book 2 of my performance project
.

.

Books 

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

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Nederlands blog:
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