Undocumented Sex | 1996 diary

actor Aidan Quinn, 1980s or 1990s

diary 1996
Wednesday July 7, 1996

Well who knew!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


diary 1996
Tuesday July 20, 1996

Madonna early 80s

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We didn’t pick up the role playing.

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

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

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

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

Because he asked.

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

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

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

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

And that Lucas was the least of my worries. 

An unexamined life is not worth living

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

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



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One For The Tattoo On The Forehead Department

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

Dear Sara,

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

1. Writing And Being LS Harteveld

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

2. Being Suzanne! 

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

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

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

An unexamined life is not worth living

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

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


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

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

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

Brussels 1993
Jon Bon Jovi Brussels 1993

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

Dear Sara,

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

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

An unexamined life is not worth living

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


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

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

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True Romance | 1996 diary

diary 1996
Thursday June 24, 1996

I can’t believe I missed this!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

New theory is that will not happen!

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

I have.


diary 1996
Saturday June 26

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


An unexamined life is not worth living

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

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

Find the subscription button on this page.

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



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

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

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I received my sexual and professional calling

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

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

Dear Sara,

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

summer of love                

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

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

An unexamined life is not worth living

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


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

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

Or follow my Facebook page
/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

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First results | A Sexual Odyssey

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How do people do this?

0f40b7e3720854246931cdc787ef6ae62021 A Sexual Odyssey
Thursday June 17

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

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

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

A girl needs to eat!

Quickly followed by:

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

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

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

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

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

I m okay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I am sapiosexual

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I write with Nikki

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Both men changed the foundation of my sex life.

creativity = sex

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or to go back in fully armed.

An unexamined life is not worth living

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

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

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



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

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

Or follow my Facebook page
/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

Nederlands blog:

A girl has gotta eat | A Sexual Odyssey

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But a girl has gotta eat.

An unexamined life is not worth living

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

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

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



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

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

Or follow my Facebook page
/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

Nederlands blog:

A Hard Worker (NSFW)| 1996 diary

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

diary 1996
Wednesday June 2, 1996

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But they remind me why I want this.

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


diary 1996
Thursday June 3, 1996

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

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

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

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

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

As did the eating.

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

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

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

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

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

And he has not gained even an ounce.

What a mess.


diary 1996
Saturday June 5, 1996

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


diary 1996
Tuesday June 8, 1996

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it didn’t. 


An unexamined life is not worth living

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

A Hard Worker (NSFW)| 1996 diary
is the twelveth chapter to
1996 diary 

Find the subscription button on this page.

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



My diaries are available at LULU
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Button on this page, probably on the top right.

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


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

Rusty staplers

Being stabbed in the upper arm with a potato peeler

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An unexamined life is not worth living

My first response to a Covid vaccination is to destroy all my work
is part of The Covid Diaries

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



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

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

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The Summer Of Love Playbook

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

Dear Sara,

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

Stopped with everything that was a great idea in theory

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Second book, same story; ONE day! 

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

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


Lauren Harteveld doesn’t talk

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

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

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

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

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


My Real Name moves to 1996 as well

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

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

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

An unexamined life is not worth living

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


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

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

Or follow my Facebook page
/ Twitter: @LSHarteveld

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