Now I m following you

Published on by LS HarteveldLeave a comment

After creating her daily schedule for success in every area of her life, Lauren looks for guidance on a pressing business matter.

Within hours of solemnly swearing my entire business model would be exclusively based on selling books, I found myself inspired to register as a company, start giving some sort of coaching, get paid gigs for public speaking AND SO ON!
Thank goodness I postponed these decisions to February when I will have a cat, and be my normal self again.
And also thank goodness I realized as early as this morning that these were all terrible ideas, or at least premature and not thought through.
But nevertheless it gave me a good scare that I had so easily succumbed to boxing up what I do into a business, an identifiable service again.
Had I learned nothing?
Did I actually have to tattoo all the reasons I didn’t want a normal business, on my forehead, in order for me not to forget?
So instead of diving right into writing this post this morning, I gave myself unlimited time with my favorite coach Katrina Ruth.
I read everything she posted the past couple of days plus a long blog about her early days: How I Quit 1:1 Personal Training and Created a 50k+ Per Month Online Business Part One; Part Two; Part 3 & Part Three epilogue
(Kat never wrote part 4)
It took me 3,5 hours of reading, journaling, thinking, and I was so grateful I knew her. I have followed her since late 2016, and she has changed my life.
Or to be exact (I m sure this is how she sees it): I changed my life, but she was the only coach who could support the process all the way through.
Even today, when I needed confirmation that it was okay to focus fully on purpose work, and to let go of the idea of creating or adjusting something so you can sell it and meet your income goals, she is the one I know I can turn to.
So I did that, and although it was still a bit uncomfortable, to take all that time to dive in so deep, before writing, I didn’t regret it.
Because I found that what I was currently doing in “business”- going entirely against the grain – was something I have been doing for years in my love life.
Where I don’t have a normal relationship, but I am someone’s secret mistress.
And in my case, being a mistress and doing my purpose work, turned out to be the exact same thing!
The mistress is someone who is with a man, only for the pleasure of the moment. She doesn’t do it because she’s looking for a partner, or because she’ll get something out of it, in a normal sense. And she’s not with him because she’s afraid she’ll end up alone, or because he’s a good man and he “will do”.
Instead, she adores him, and loves him, and can’t think of a better way to spend her time.
The outcome, the reward is in the moment.
Doing your purpose work has exactly the same characteristics;
You don’t do it because you’re paid, not because it brings you stability, or any future outcome. The joy is in the doing.
And the reason I have always seen deeper meaning in seeing myself as a mistress, is because I believe my entire life should be lived this way.
Nothing should be done for a future outcome.
Everything should be done for the joy of doing it.
And that’s when I knew how I could always stay true to my nature, and never stray from the path again. I could make sure future “business” decisions were aligned with my deepest values, by asking myself:
Is this *insert random business decision* something the mistress in me would like to do?
Next time it will not cost me 3,5 hours to figure out where I went wrong.

<3LSH
An unexamined life is not worth living

–> 17 December start of Katrina Ruth’s new program EXPANSION
10 Days of Live Soul Transmissions, to Help You Find and Follow the Messages Within 

Now I’m following you is the forty-second chapter from Project M. 

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More

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Lauren still hopes she’ll wake up one day with nothing to write, and copious amounts of time to publish her new books, kick her ass into shape, and get laid.
But it is not today.

I honestly thought that if you don’t have a life – or at least not beyond envying other people who do have lives – that at one point the stream of thoughts that need to be written down before anything else is even allowed to enter the head space, would stop.
It’s a fair assumption.
Once you stop the input, logically speaking, there shouldn’t be any output. 
Because what on earth could I possibly be writing about?
The sixth time I went to see Bohemian Rhapsody? 
I already did that last night. It was in Dutch.
That I feel uncertain in my relationship with my lover Mr.Big?
Did that twice.
Once in my post as The Mistress Speaks on Tuesday, where I describe having a lover as a luxury.
And I poured my heart out about inadvertently harming our relationship in yesterday’s diary entry.
Writing to me is the final stage of a thought process. I m not a writer, I am a thinker. Which explains why I always feel so relieved once it’s out there.
Then I can let the thoughts go.
Sometimes new thoughts arise, on the same movie, topic, or about my relationship with Mr.Big. But when I write, I empty out.
And am convinced I covered all.
And indeed, I don’t have anything more to say today, about Bo-Rap, or my complicated mistress status.
And yet when I started my day, which was supposed to be all about doing yoga, getting fresh air, and building my Dutch web shop – not about writing – I couldn’t make myself do any of those things.
I knew I had to write, organize my thoughts, and sharpen my vision for the future.
I could already see the shapes of it, and knew this was going to be one of those posts, I would want to print out and live by, for the upcoming months.

Write every day

This really should be a no-brainer by now. Writing is my internal compass, without it I get lost and the feeling of “Where am I?” just keeps building up.
Until finally it finds it sweet release.
I will write on this blog, in my diary and for The Mistress speaks.
As Lauren Harteveld I will also write for my Dutch site, about films and books.
And under my real name, I will write comics about a little duck.
So you won’t necessarily see me here every day.

young and healthy body

I keep getting the number “15”; the body I had when I was 15.
Maybe it’s the virgin-esque ring to it, I don’t know. But I do know that I enjoyed my body so much when I was young. At my parent’s house they had a mirror in which you could see your whole body, while you were taking a shower.
I loved doing that.
My physical exercise consisted of cycling every day, except for the winter months.
I weighed only 55 kilos, or less. This is the reason I don’t understand why this number keeps popping up. I think 55 is too low to carry much muscle.
But from this day forward, right after writing, I will go out every day and cycle, and/or do yoga for a minimum of one hour.
I want to have that body back where you’re looking in the mirror:
“Oh… that is nice!”

Build a Business versus publish books 

For the past couple of months I ve actually been pushing back business building activities (selling books and growing following), because I thought it was more important to get those new books out first.
But the truth is, that the practice of working your business is just like exercising, daylight, and writing;
You feel totally disconnected, if you don’t do it regularly.
Whereas creating my new books is more suitable for bigger time slots, and it doesn’t respond very well to being done half an hour at a time.
Both business activities and book creation can be done in evening hours – they require little band-with.

So before I ruin the entire set-up by giving you my number one priority, which has the potential of causing lasting chaos, let me scribble down the schedule, that will be mine from this day forward, until the day I die

Work & Life Schedule Lauren Harteveld 
start date: Thursday December 6, 2019
end date: till death do me part

1.
AM first thing: WRITE
And publish/ post to a blog (providing I have wifi and a computer)

2.
2 PM latest
walking, cycle and/or do yoga

3.
business building activities and admin

4. 
create new books

The ONE thing, that is allowed to throw everything upside down, is:
FUN!
I feel I m barely living.
As if I have a deficit in every human interaction imaginable. From not seeing family often enough, to having way too little sex.
And the sex thing is a difficult one, because I made a rule that I will never again, in my life, have sex without being in love.
I m just not going to do it.
I did that for eight years, dating and rebuilding my sex life, and sex when you’re not in head over heels in love, is haaarrrrrd.
All the dates where you basically have to ignore all the things you don’t like, in order to get laid. It’s just not worth the hassle.
Especially not since I now have four years of sex with Mr.Big in my pocket. So I m spoiled rotten. I know at least of one man who knows exactly what I like, and is fully capable of giving it to me.
But only ever so often.
To compensate I will invest way more in dating in a friend-like manner. I already have male friends, but I will start dating more. Going out more.
If I meet someone I also want to start an affair with, that’s cool.
But I don’t really expect that.
I fell in love this year with someone else. So I know it’s possible, but also like I already had my chance. That I will not get another chance like that. But I m just going for more dating, more friends, more fun.

So that’s it!
My New Life Plan, which unfortunately doesn’t have a name.
And in twenty minutes it’s 2 o’clock and according to this blog post I have to leave for daylight, cycling and/or yoga.

So I ll let you know how it goes, my new life plan without a name.

I m going for the body of my 15 year old self;
A successful writing business;
And the sex life of Mata Hari.

<3LSH
An unexamined life is not worth living

More is the forty-first chapter from Project M. 

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Sooner or later

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Dick Tracey:
“Whose side are you on?”

Breathless Mahony: 
“The side I’m always on. Mine.”

For the past couple of weeks, I ve been wondering: Why is this so hard?
Why don’t I feel light, relieved, and hopeful, about having another identity? Another career? 
Wasn’t this what I always wanted, to be a full-time writer?
It’s not the writing in a narrow sense that interests me. It’s the expression of ideas. To be free to think and to say what I want.
I have all the time in the world, and no appointments since I don’t have clients in terms of people who are buying my time, or my presence. Not even online.
I sell books, and I create new work only from soul.
Then WHY does it feel like I’ve lost something?
And not just something…. something extremely important. Something that has most likely been there for a very long time, but which presence I didn’t feel until now that it’s gone.
And then I knew it…
Yesterday, when I was having my second fit of jealousy in a pretty short time, that’s when I knew what was up.
First of about that jealousy: It’s a returning thing.
As a mistress it is my nature to long for taken men, who have at least one other woman in their life. Yet even after four years, whenever I feel left out of Mr.Big’s life, I can still worry there is someone else.
I don’t so much fear Mr.Big choosing his wife, and wanting to be monogamous. That would be painful emotionally but ego-wise it wouldn’t.
It would be an admirable choice, coming from a longing to be normal and do the right thing.
No, I m talking about the risk of him actually falling in love with someone else.
Or getting entangled in a web of vulnerability and possessiveness of someone most likely way younger than we are.
That is when ego and heart are stabbed at the same time, and it keeps me up at night.
It was through these returning cycles of jealousy, far more frequent than usual, that I knew something was up. Either with him- that there was more at play than he cared to share, and I was picking it up telepathically.
Or there was something wrong with me, and I was projecting my insecurity onto him.
Last week I concluded that it was probably a bit of both.
But now that I was struck with a second fit of jealousy, and feeling even sadder than last week, I wasn’t so sure I understood this.
And I dug a little deeper.
Why was I feeling so insecure, jealous, sad, when I had just chosen my dream life, dream career also? To become the famous LS Harteveld.
And then it hit me.
Of course.
OF COURSE!
By becoming Lauren Harteveld full-time, I had created a path for myself to grow. But what I had not realized, was that I had also cut off all paths, that required me to play small.
Where I was an out-of-work yoga teacher, with a time consuming hobby called writing.
Where I fell in love with Mr.Big, in 2018 or 2019.
And he divorced his wife, in an elegant way. Pretending it was shortly after we met.
I would write in my blogs Mr.Big and me had broken up, and I had met this new man.
And never speak of “Mr.Big” again.
I would sacrifice my story, of our secret love affair’s happy ending. All in order to make things easy for him and his family.
The reason I had suddenly become hyper aware of how vulnerable my position was, the moment I chose to be Lauren Harteveld full-time, was because I had inadvertently made a drastic choice.
That I was writer first.
Lover second.
And bending over backwards to save everybody’s feelings, never.
Not even my own.
Although I believed my choice to be Lauren Harteveld was the right one, and ultimately inevitable, it had marginalized my chances of getting what I wanted most:
Mr.Big by my side.
I had every right to feel sad over that.
And so did he.

<3LSH
An unexamined life is not worth living

Sooner or later is the fortieth chapter from Project M. 

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Something to remember

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“To know if you’re an artist or not, is like breathing.
You don’t question breathing.”
~Marina Abramovic

I knew I wasn’t a writer.
I knew it when people, experts, professionals and so on, advised me to read books, study other writers, take courses in writing, or think about who my frickin’ audience is.
I still get worked up about how absolutely horrendous this whole culture is, of writing, writers and those who aspire to become one.
I mean: Aspiring to be a writer? 
What is that even supposed to mean?
The way I see it, there’s no such thing as becoming a writer.
It’s something you are, not something you become. Unless you’re talking about a copy writing, someone writing for money. That is a choice, and not something which, as Charles Bukowski said it, “comes bursting out of you”. 
Even the whole write daily thing?
You better be doing that because writing is a soul work experience for you.
And you get suicidal if you let the daily grind take over.
Then go ahead. Write daily.
But never say you will write daily – or draw, paint, sculpt, create – because you think you have to in order to call yourself an artist. Or because you think it will make you a better one.
Writing, the way I see it, do it, live it?
Is because you have something to say.
You should feel you have to type furiously, or the message is going to escape, the idea will be lost, and you will never get her back. Not be concerned with what to write or how to put words in the right order, so that the message comes across.
The message always comes across, exactly in the way it is supposed to, as long as you get out of your own way.
It’s not even your story, your idea, your message.
It’s something the Universe gave you, most likely after you created space in your life, and did the internal work of getting your head around a certain topic. But nevertheless the message itself came to you, and wants to be expressed through you.
Today I started wondering whether I should even call myself a writer. I’ve always identified more with artists, like performers and painters, whose craft can not be boxed up and sold. Or at least not that easily.
No one gets into those lines of work without having that sense of urgency that they simply can’t not do it.
For me writing is about that: letting an urgent message out.
It is the final -and most rewarding – stage of thinking. Sometimes it is directly linked to something I ve been actively shaping ideas around.
Sometimes it’s a crispy new thought, which feels even more like a live entity, that will escape if I don’t put her into words immediately.
But either way, the writing is always the final stage.
The time I spend in my head?
That is my real work.
The inspiration I seek?
Also my real work.
If I felt compelled to have a daily routine, it would be to look for inspiration.
To understand myself and the world, at a deeper level. To find meaning.
And then when I have these light bulb moments, when I see connections, to sprint to my notebook to scribble it down immediately.
Before I lose it.
So I could see why I am not a writer when I clearly have so little interest for the craft.
But expressionist would suit me.
Or simply “artist”. 

<3LSH
An unexamined life is not worth living

Something to remember is the thirty-ninth chapter from Project M. 

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luxury | The Mistress Speaks episode 5

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I tried to resist the urge to read back, to the first four posts. But then I needed to have a look anyway, to see which episode we were on.
And perhaps I longed for a little brush up, on what this series was about.
Unfortunately, I saw I had already written about many of the key insights, that are so fresh to me.  They’re guidelines I reconnect with frequently, in order to sustain this “lifestyle”.
Although lifestyle and the word luxury in the title, do not refer to something financial, nor to something that gives me status.
The reason I refer to mistresshood as a luxury, is because it is.
Most people have dreams that either include, or require, an emotionally stable home base, or a double income. And others have needs or problems which will be relieved if they could stabilize themselves, by being able to focus on one person. Or if they’re saved by someone who will supply the base level of what it is they’re missing.
Labels of sexual preference, gay, straight, bi, and to a lesser extend monogamous and polyamorous, are not an actual representation of the diversity; They’re simply the only people who found it absolutely impossible to function in a monogamous, heterosexual relationship.
They had no choice but to start acknowledging their sexual nature.
And often realize their sexuality, preferences, kinks and turnoffs, are made of a thousand different aspects that make them unique. 
But barely anyone investigates their sexuality, as long as it functions half decent,  within the boundaries of what we think is normal.
And this is because we have all those needs and wants in the rest of our life, on an earthy, practical level. So unless you absolutely don’t function within normality, exploring your true nature comes at way too big a cost.
For me it took over a decade of dedicated soul and sex searching before I realized what was “wrong” with me:
I like to be monogamous, so have one sexual partner.
With whom I m MADLY in love!
But I need this man to be in control.
There is a part of me that says: I need this man to fool around a bit, and be unreliable.
But that’s not exactly true… I need him to be fascinating, and do his OWN THING. Whether he actually has sex with other women is completely beside the point, but he needs to keep me interested.
He needs to pull the string of wool back from the playing cat, so that I can chase it. Or wonder if he will come back to play. He cannot give me the ball of wool. I would be extremely bored.
So this was the detailed version of the story.
I usually round it off to:
“I am monogamous, but I need a man who’s not.”
For me understanding this has been absolutely huge!
But it took me ten years.
Years I could have spent building a multi-million dollar empire, traveling the world, raising children. I didn’t do any of those things.
I just dated, got home, and wrote everything out like a mad woman.
For ten years.
THAT is luxury!
And one few people have. Not unless they’re willing to give up their needs, their wants, and their reserves.
Because it doesn’t stop. They say love is a verb; well that is true regardless of which form you put it into.
You always have to work.
You always get tested.
Even the most non-committal structure has its challenges.
I don’t have much experience with one night-stands, but from what I ve noticed is that they put a huge strain on my self-esteem. It is practically impossible for me to share myself physically, and to not die of anxiety in the days after.
That terrible craving for connection after I had sex with someone, that’s the reason I am monogamous, in the sense that I only want one partner.
I don’t have that post-sex connection with my lover, either. He doesn’t text me or anything. But because it’s been the same man for almost four years now, I can statistically assume he’ll not grow tired of me overnight.
Or that he’s no longer interested because he has already “had” me.
Every time I see him, still feels like the first to me. But the history we share do make the after-sex dip bearable. Often I don’t feel it at all, or only very briefly.
But I get tested too, in my (at first glance) non-committal arrangement of being his secret lover.
Just this week, it really came up for me!
I felt a stab of jealousy, and insecurity. A full realization that if I find it arousing to not know what he’s up to, he might actually be up to something!
Jealousy can cut you swiftly and ugly.
And it did.
Even though I know it’s part of the game. Part of what I like here.
And not having him to myself is the reason I m still in love after such a long time; I know that for certain.
So then I m tested with these feelings of doubt. Will I lose him?
Will he choose his wife, or leave her for another woman, who s not me?
There’s all kinds of scenarios where I could still end up empty handed, before our four year anniversary.
And that’s when I remind myself:
This is a luxury.
My relationship with him, is pure pleasure, consent, desire, and lust. We love each other deeply. I know that, even though we never speak such words.
It can be felt.
But it’s that fresh type of love which is connected to wanting. Not to needing.
The moments I think I need to know if he’s “faithful”, are my tests. They’re red flags; Not of our relationship.
But of me trying to turn this into something that it never was. And that I don’t even want it to be.
Having a lover is a luxury.
And no matter what happens in life, it’s one I will insist on having.

~The Mistress

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Hanky Panky

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Even though Lauren’s no longer crying on a daily basis, that doesn’t mean she’s her old self.
Yet.
.
When I was stressed out, I was aware that I wasn’t masturbating. I lost all touch with my physical body.
I didn’t even dress the way I normally do. Hoodies and comfortable pants seemed to be naturally drawn to my sadness.
I was wearing them without making a conscious choice to do so.
And although the problem was obviously on a way more existential level, I kept thinking:
“If only I could masturbate! Everything would be alright!”
I sometimes even went as far as to browse Steve Holmes’ timeline on Twitter, which is my go-to if I don’t bother to turn myself on with thoughts.
One quick look of my favorite porn star doing his thing is enough.
Or it should be.
Except that it wasn’t for nearly two weeks.
That’s when you know you have issues. And I already knew that. I was hoping masturbation would give me a hard reset and snap me out of it.
Yesterday I was still not functioning sexually, despite having solved my problem. I suggested to my creativity coach to include this into our call.
Where’s my lust?
That was around midnight, writing that email. And just putting it in writing, giving it a place, was apparently the incentive it needed. I went to bed, masturbated, had merely four hours sleep before I had to get up, and I was fine all day.
This doesn’t mean it is where I want it to be.
I can’t imagine having real sex. Or doing yoga or  cycling, other than a simple commute.
Every confrontation with my body, like waxing my legs, still feels completely off. Even putting on my clothes! As if I m dressing a slightly overweight doll.
Still, real sex is actually the easiest way for me reconnect. To feel that lovely bigger body of mine is really made for it.
Rough sex.
Eye staring melt-together sex.
Role playing oh-my-God-not-there sex.
We cherish a whole bucket list of fantasies I still want to play out. Like a perverted treasure.
With all the other forms of physical activity, satisfaction is not guaranteed. And like I said, even masturbation cannot be done on command.
But when I see my lover Mr.Big, and we don’t have sex?
It’s more out of insecurity because I didn’t shave my pubes or didn’t shower right before. Or because it’s not practical.
I can’t remember ever saying no because I wasn’t aroused.
I always want him when I see him.
He is, what makes me tick.

.

<3LSH
An unexamined life is not worth living

Hanky Panky is the thirty-eight chapter from Project M. 

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Back in business

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After a week long meltdown, Lauren’s back in business.
Hide.
.
I’m both ashamed, as well as immensely proud of how I handled my rampant emotions last week.
Proud because it gave me an enormous breakthrough. It might actually have been necessary to hit rock bottom before I could say:
“THAT’S ENOUGH!!!”
And take matters into my own hands.
But ashamed because I feel like such a pushover, if I look back at my yoga career. I didn’t stand up to defend my loudness, my outspokenness and my extravagance.
Instead I adopted beliefs that were not mine, and build my business executing them. 
I’ve practiced yoga a few times at my studio this week, which I ve kept on as potential business space. And I had so much fun practicing, I considered picking up teaching.
But I realize now that it would have to be under this name: Lauren Harteveld, or LS Harteveld.
Because my real name will always be associated with my 15 year long yoga career, and the deeply confused personality it gave me.
What I might do, in the future, is to start a new business as LS Harteveld, and this could include yoga.
But whether I’ll only live from selling my books, or start a new company again, the real, troubled me never has to do something in her life again.
She’s my legal name, on paper. And it will be for the people who are in my life by default. My family, neighbors.
But her giving, sensitive personality is no longer available.
And I won’t go too deep into how bad she’s doing, but it has been really helpful to have a friend explain to me why I ve felt so dark this year.
She said this is true for the majority of people with suicidal thoughts:
I felt I had to fit into such a small box of what I was supposed to do, and be, to be a good person.
I was basically saying:
“Then I might as well take the rest out as well.”
I already felt spiritually dead.
The solution I choose is to give myself permission to be me, but under a different name. Not under the name that has been troubled by fifteen years of trying to make a living inside a tiny box.
I set the boxed up, damaged side of me, free.
She never has to work another day.
Instead she can sit by the sea and have fish nibble her toes. Go on sex vacation.
Or make children’s drawings and play house with her pluche Kylo Ren doll, which is what she currently enjoys doing.
But despite that side of me, being broken and sad, I also realized that the wild version of me, was not done with life at all. She was rattling the locks and clawing the bars after a life in confinement.
She wanted out!
This side of me, Lauren Harteveld or LS Harteveld which has been my pen name since 2006, was the one who said to the real, depleted, me:
“You go enjoy Sweetie. Let me handle this.
I ll have this thing full throttle in 6 months.”
Lauren can’t wait to write daily but also to publish all those new books. Get it out into the world and start building a business as a writer.
So from this day forward, I will only be known as Lauren Harteveld, or LS Harteveld. I will be the one publishing all the books, making all the monies, and kicking all the ass.
You can expect both English posts (here on this blog),
and Dutch/Nederlands hier op het Nederlandse blog
And I might revive my YouTube channel!
Could happen!
I m on fire!
So better subscribe to LS Harteveld on:
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCJuLkg5MLlvxCqP9sEruTaQ
.
See you around kid.

.

~Lauren
<3LSH
An unexamined life is not worth living

Back in business is the thirty-seventh chapter from Project M. 

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Cry Baby

Published on by LS HarteveldLeave a comment

It’s midnight here, I m shaking and had the most awful week. And yet I feel I had such an important insight, which has the potential to alienate me from the people around me; I just need to get this written now.
Will have mistakes/ be draft. 
I ll clean it up tomorrow.
But I had a terrible insight. Or maybe not so terrible, since it was either this.
Or suicide.
And to then have me coming to this, ain’t that bad.
I had the most horrific week, emotionally. A lot of loneliness, as well as a business dispute which cost me so much energy, but most of all the whole week had this aura of failure.
Not just of my yoga company.
But the realization that somewhere along that path of becoming a yoga teacher and having a business, I have lost sight of who I was.
Which doesn’t just mean that the development of ME, has ceased. But also that I have lost traits I still possessed before.
My spontaneity.
My outspokenness.
Looking people in the eye.
Faith in myself.
The past two decades have been one slow but steady slope down the hill of mediocrity and people pleasing.
Toning myself down and keeping my mouth shut.
Tonight I realized I haven’t spoken my real voice on my writer’s account under my real name, even though that’s what I expected would happen after being a yoga teacher. I was now free. I didn’t need a pen name. 
That had been the whole idea.
And I knew it was because I had nothing to say there.
Nothing that was between the lines that had been set out for me, due to the yoga career for sure. But mostly due to myself.
Maybe I had become tired in my twenties of standing out.
Or maybe I just expected that becoming a professional required being agreeable. Not charismatic.
Who knows what happened.
All I know was that tonight I thought about taking my life because I just didn’t see the point in living.
Now this is not a new thought.
Ever since my cat died at the beginning of this year, I ve been prone to darker thoughts than I even knew existed. And yet before January, I never held them possible for myself.
I ve never been depressed, or burn-out or anything like that.
And I m 46.
But give me a life without cat, and I start wondering after how many days without drinking I ll die. And how to plan that so that no one finds me.
In 74 days I ll have cat M again. She stayed over 10 weeks, August to October. And it were the happiest weeks of this year.
Having her again after the renovation, is what I look forward to.
But tonight that wasn’t enough to guard off the demons and I had a melt-down.
I wrote a blog post under my real name, which basically came down to me realizing I wasn’t inclined to write real things, under my real name.
That that blog would always remain only my most childlike, the cutest, version of me.
And that was okay.
Just not what I had imagined what it would be like, after I had become a full-time writer.
But in itself, having all the real stuff here as LS Harteveld? And the cute innocent side of me there, under my real name?
That’s not a bad thing. That could work.
It wasn’t until after writing that (pretty raw!) blogpost under my real name, and yet still the suicidal thoughts came, that I realized:
“I m missing something here. And it isn’t a cat.”
Because in my rush to separate Interesting Tell All Me (LS Harteveld), from cute and fluffy me (real name), I failed to see – or I did see that, I just didn’t think it mattered to the point of suicide – that I would still have to go to events or parties or even employers or God knows what the future would bring:
Being agreeable.
Being sensitive to what others thought.
NOT speaking my mind.
I may have an outlet on paper, in the form of my pen name. But whether my real name account was a yoga teacher? Or a fluffy writer?
Didn’t make that much of a difference.
It would still have to go to places and make conversation in a beat-around the bushes kind of way. Hell! I may even still have people in my first circle who would not like certain aspects of who I was, and who would hang on to this fluffy writer side.
And see it as proof that I was a good person.
And I didn’t MEAN “it” that way.
It was almost a reversed coming out; where instead of the yoga teacher persona, I know had a writer facade to cover up for all my LS Harteveld work. 
I could now actually say: “I m a writer” 
And everybody would think: “Oh! The fluffy one!”
But it was most of all trying to protect the people I knew, not the people who were new to me, that drove me to madness.
I didn’t want to hurt their feelings. Not at all.
And I thought they were entitled to having nice parties, and social gatherings, and I did feel out of place there often. The times I spoke my mind.
And then, feeling all awkward and socially handicapped, I thought:
“Oopsie! Must not speak my truth again!”
Whereas now, on this Friday night November 23, contemplating on the most humane, non-disruptive way, to end my life?
I know: NO.
Can’t do the sitting up and the fake smiling.
But I can’t do the opposite and speak my truth either, as if there’s only ONE truth right? Of course not! 
And I know so VERY well that people use differences of opinion to let stuff escalate on a surface level. That it’s merely a sign of deeply rooted differences, that cannot be solved. Nor need they be – on a surface level.
Suddenly I knew, what my truth was:
That I share my truth, not because I want to provoke.
Nor hurt.
But because I need to make sure that at a deeply rooted level, we are on the same page.
And that apparently, at this point in life, I can honestly say that I am no longer capable, nor willing, to operate at surface level.
This could mean that I lose acquaintances. Mostly I think it means that I won’t attend social events that require me to play nice and fluffy Me.
I like that fluffy writers account I have under my real name.
I like that side of me, I really do.
And I also like telling everything that comes from the soul here, as LS Harteveld. Without everybody who knows my name, simply because they’re my plumber or something, being able to Google it.
But that plumber or the mail man, is really as far as I m willing to go, when it comes to facades.
On the 23rd of November, 2019, I want to be able to say:
“I ve been my true to myself for 365 days.”
And feel that’s it’s okay to be me.
Instead of wanting to end it all.

<3LSH
An unexamined life is not worth living

Cry Baby is the thirty-sixth chapter from Project M. 

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I’m going bananas

Published on by LS HarteveldLeave a comment

Lauren has discovered something.
And now questions everything she thought she knew about herself since the turn of the century.

It was called the Myers-Briggs test, and I came across it because of an article about the rarest type within that system.
I’ve always loved personality tests!
I usually have one every year, that uncovers a layer of myself that I was previously totally unaware of, or didn’t know how to label.
Like a thing that you know is, for lack of a better expression “fucking things up”, but you can’t put your finger on it.
Or something that you love doing, but that you don’t give enough time or significance because you don’t understand the rationale (or emotional connection) behind it. 
You don’t understand the Why.
How an aspect of you fits into the whole.
So when this Myers Briggs test was mentioned, I was immediately interested. It had 16 personality types and you were going to be just one!
Awesome. I’m always so bogged down by systems that start with “everybody is a bit of everything”, and dual types and all.
I understand it, but it just doesn’t satisfy me.
I took the test, and after filling out all questions a hundred percent truthful and without any hesitation, I was labeled a “Campaigner”.
And had my biggest WTF moment of the year.
Because the Campaigner’s most striking characteristic was that they loved being in groups.
Groups?
Me?
I hate groups!
I consider it the number one reason it was a good thing I quit teaching yoga. I m currently in the process of closing my yoga business, and refinding myself. Shaking off any residue behavior or personality traits, which I adopted in my fifteen years of teaching yoga.
But becoming an extrovert, who loves to be around people?
That is so not me, that I don’t know where to begin.
So initially I ignored this aspect of the test-results. Until I noticed something peculiar.. Almost every day, from different sources, I get the advice to not go on Facebook in the morning. To turn off notifications when writing. And to just in general be very moderate in my use of social media.
And I understand that.
And I follow that advice, or at least have the intention to follow it, always.
But I never do, or never longer than a day.
Instead, I find myself opening up new tabs while writing. In a way someone else would open the window to let the fresh air in.
And yet once I get into the flow, I m so concentrated they could set off a bomb next to me and I wouldn’t notice.
For me (a hermit who is alone twenty hours a day) my phone and social media are  not overwhelming at all. They’re a candy store.
An Alice in Wonderland type of situation and I do know how to climb back up the rabbit hole anytime I want to.
Feeling totally rejuvenated and inspired.
And it was somewhere when connecting the two together – the test results and my joyful use of social media – that I realized that social media too, are of course groups. I’m comfortable there, they even light me up.
And yet I pass on practically all real life invitations, obligations, and opportunities that involve me being around others.
That’s when I saw that the problem with teaching yoga, had indeed not been the group thing. Nor was the problem with me engaging in real life social activities that I didn’t like “them”.
The problem was; I didn’t like me.
Not in that setting.
Being a yoga teacher felt contracting, with little space to be myself. I felt I was being paid to leave my entire personality at the door.
And on top of that I could feel everybody’s sensitivities.
Or what they wanted out of a class, or from me.
I was having a hard time, trying to teach a class that would be satisfactory to everybody. And didn’t see a way to squeeze my true self in there.
And when I did, I immediately felt too loud, and highly self-aware. I got negative feedback, when I did write what I really thought, or spoke my mind.
And that’s when I started getting stuck and must have internalized the people pleasing approach I had in yoga class. By now I was convinced the real me was indeed not okay.
I started becoming weary not to step on any toes. Not just in class, but in all other social occasions too.
I was aware at which birthday parties, people felt insecure if I was too loud.
Which colleagues felt uneasy hearing my views about our work.
The sensitivities of my friends.
I would tiptoe around all of it.
Highly aware that every idea and any opinion, could trigger anything in anybody.
And it was driving me crazy.
Since being with others was obviously draining me, I started identifying with being an introvert; I simply didn’t get any energy out of being social.
And I found solace in seeing only one person at a time.
One client.
One friend.
One family member even, preferably.
Campaigner?
Groups?
Extrovert?
Not me.
Until it hit me that my love for social media, and blogging, and even me referring to my Inbox as “filled with gems”, were all pointing in the same extrovert direction.
And that my dislike for teaching yoga had never been because I didn’t like groups but because I disliked just that: being a Yoga Teacher.
I could have revolutionized yoga and turned it into something that didn’t require me to be some Tiny Tim version of myself.
But it was already too late.
Teaching Yoga was no longer my passion; My passion was writing.
Yoga was, or had become, just a way to pay the bills. And now that it wasn’t doing that anymore, it was time for yoga to go.
But I needed this personality test to see that it was never the group aspect, that I didn’t like.
That it was not showing my true self, that had sucked the life out of me. And that was on a steady course to seep into and poison all my relationships.
Glimpses of who I had been, before I became a yoga teacher, came back to me. How I had been completely comfortable in class, in high school and at University. Or on stage, providing I could be myself.
In my twenties and with the perspective of a real job, it turned around. I started assuming I would have to play some professional version of myself.
And other people in the form of employers started scaring me.
I ran.
Fled the academic job, but landed straight into being a yoga teacher.
Initially I felt the relief of not having a boss and a normal job anymore. Unlike my peers I was free, and no longer part of the corporate world.
But in hindsight, being a yoga teacher turned out to be just as limiting and contracting as being a professional.
I agree with the test now.
Campaigner; an extrovert who enjoys social and emotional connections with others, and is always looking for deeper meaning.
After twenty years, I no longer have to shy away from myself, nor from other people.
And I never have to leave something at the door, ever again.

<3LSH
An unexamined life is not worth living

Curious which personality type you are? You can take the test here.

I’m going bananas is the thirty-fifth chapter from Project M. 

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Love Makes the World Go Round

Published on by LS HarteveldLeave a comment

After months of silence, Lauren decides to tell the truth about Christopher.

I came across a journaling prompt;
What would you do if fear of rejection or pain wouldn’t ruin you?
My initial thought was:
“Write Christopher. Tell him the truth about my feelings!”
You know honestly? I still might.
If this blog post doesn’t give me the truth-telling relief I hope it will, I still might send an email to Christopher.
Because it’s SUCH a good story!
And if I tell him, I can be a 100% honest. For this blog I still have to withhold and alter a significant amount of information, to protect his identity.
I can’t tell you when exactly, where exactly, I met him. Or why.
But I will tell you more than I did before.
The reason I’ve decided against telling him, is because I ve had men confess their feelings to me, and it has always made me slightly annoyed.
Furious might be a better word.
The reason I feel so provoked if a man tells me how he feels about me, is because their confession always seems to include the expectancy that:
a. I didn’t know already. And I always know already. Men want to have sex with me. Period. It’s been that way since puberty, and that’s fine.
Presuming this is new to me, however, is not fine.
It’s an insult.
Not to my sexual attractiveness but to my brain.
b. They assume their feelings for me have any influence on my feelings for them.
That’s not how it works.
Either I m in love with you, or I find you attractive. Or I don’t.
My feelings for you are independent from what you may or may not think about me, and again: It’s an insult to my emotional maturity that you expect your feelings for me, to be of influence on that.
In short, a man telling me his feelings never sits well with me, and is interpreted by me as a WTF-moment where I search for the nearest exit. Either physically or communication wise.
“Oh, look at the time!”
My disdain or sympathy for men confessing their feelings for me, makes me extremely reluctant to share this story with Christopher.
The only reason I would tell him, is not because I expect him to change his feelings for me, or make a different decision. It’s because it’s such a great story!
There is of course a fair chance that he knows this story.
I ve always assumed our feelings for each other were mutual, and he has hinted at that himself as well. So in that respect, it’s also a bit pointless to tell him a story he already knows.
And pretty presumptuous to assume that I would tell him something new.
Which is why it is better for all parties – and my ego! – to just close the entire Christopher story-line in this blog, by telling the true story.
As much as I can.
First of all: Christopher is not Idris Elba.
I ve used Idris Elba pictures on this blog, to give you a picture and make him an intriguing character. He actually IS intriguing! But the parts of him that make him that way, I can’t reveal.
So that’s why I resorted to strong measures, and played the Elba card.
Also: Christopher is not black either.
And way older than Idris Elba.
When I started this blog I had no idea how old Christopher was. Still don’t. Maybe I’ll do some online spying to see if I can find out, on a day I feel really low and need a little treat.
I also didn’t know Idris Elba’s age, but I thought he’d be about ten year younger than Christopher. Turns out! Turns out! – and I knew this because Christopher Elba was voted sexiest man alive since I started writing, so his age was suddenly all over the media; that Idris is only 46!
That’s my age!
Idris Elba will be attractive his whole life, so he is a great choice in portraying Christopher because it’s clear age doesn’t matter at all.
But Idris’ age could be like twenty years younger than Christopher’s.
I m not sure.
Just that I was a bit bumped out when I realized the actor I had chosen to “portray” Christopher, an older friend with whom I had suddenly fell in love, was born six weeks after me.
Which brings me to the second bit, which was entirely different than I told in the blog;
Christopher is not a friend.
I did not, after years of seeing him for dinner dates, suddenly fall in love. Writing about him as if he was a friend, for whom I had developed feelings, was the only way to protect his identity fully.
Just remember; At the time I started this blog, I didn’t know what would happen.
Something could…
And in that case, men who were my friends would be suspicious.
And men who I d just met, would be off the hook.
I altered his history with me, so that everybody would not suspect him of being Christopher.
Now ironically a very funny part about everything I wrote here, was not a lie;
I was indeed totally unaware of my feelings.
And my suppressed feelings were derailing my entire business and life.
Everything I tried just didn’t feel right!
My little cat Max, love of my life, died at the beginning of the year, so maybe closing off from my feelings was simply a survival mechanism. As I was trying to “fix” my life, by “fixing” my business.
The only thing I HAD in my life, the only thing constant that still demanded my attention, was my yoga company!
No wonder I automatically directed my love into my business, when Max died and I couldn’t have a new cat. For multiple reasons, really.
So it wasn’t a lie when I said my feelings for Christopher had gone unnoticed for months and had completely pulled me offtrack business wise.
Because of course nothing I came up with felt right!
I was in love. And the whole situation was completely hopeless because he was married and I already had a secret lover. Either we weren’t going to get together. Or if we did, I would have two secret lovers.
When it had already taken me years to get used to one!
NO WONDER NOTHING FELT RIGHT!
After more than three years of only having feelings for Mr.Big, completely immune to any other man, I had fallen for someone else.
That does not feel right.
That feels like a crisis.
But if you’re unaware of those feelings, yes, you will keep reorganizing your company until you drop, (or it drops) assuming that your restless agony stems from a malfunctioning marketing system.
Or whatever.
Of course!
So I can see how Max’ death, and not being in touch with my feelings, contributed to me not realizing I was in love with Christopher.
And the age thing, maybe that too played a part.
I just didn’t take him into account, whenever I found myself having such strong feelings of joy, and excitement, and it was like I knew very well I was in love. Just not with whom!
I even remember going over all the men in my life, and yet I never included him!
Ever!
We didn’t have a relationship of any kind at the time, but I did know on which occasion (which I will never reveal) I could run into him.
And I had noticed my undeniable feelings of exuberance around that setting.
And I did go over the men I was closest to, when I was there.
But never him!
So call it the revenge of ageism. And it was revenge I deserved.
But the absolute weirdest thing, is that in hindsight the way we met had all the characteristics of a scripted meet cute. The way they stage the main characters coming together in a romantic movie.
Do you know how Mr.Big and Carrie meet?
They bump into each other, and Carrie drops her bag and all her condoms fall on the sidewalk. Mr.Big, who would be her number one love interest for six seasons of Sex and the City, helps to pick them up.
We had the same meet cute.
It was spontaneous, in the sense that neither one of us planned this.
There was clumsiness. On both sides. Or maybe clumsiness is not the right word… but someone who had a radar for things like this would have picked up on it.
It seemed like the world had stopped turning.
And I know that’s an absolutely cheesy way to put it, but it really describes how clear it all was.
Just like a romantic comedy.
Everybody knows these are forces that can’t be budged with.
All the more remarkable that I then IGNORED it!
Took it out on my company!
Went over the men associated with the location, and still did not see it!
I was so ignorant – this is embarrassing – that I ended up having a good reason to spend time with him. AND YET I STILL DIDN’T SEE IT.
Yet my energy just sky-rocketed every time I saw him!
How on earth did I manage to not notice?!
And then, suddenly, after months and months, it hit me.
Oh. My. Fucking. God. It’s Christopher.
Now contrary to what I wrote here, I never wrote him a long tell-all letter where I confessed my feelings and asked him how he wanted to proceed from now on.
That would have been totally ridiculous because we weren’t friends.
If Christopher had indeed been a friend for years, and suddenly my feelings had shifted? A real heart to heart would have been a believable story.
But I didn’t even know Christopher.
We ran into each other by chance, and I hid my feelings so no one could find them, least of all me. We saw each other, but very occasionally and never in private or anything.
I could feel we were getting friendly, and that we were in the process of determining what we wanted. If we wanted to see each other, or not.
I did feel that.
But it wasn’t as if we had a bond that required explaining if my feelings had changed. And in retrospect they had not even changed, because he literally had me at hello.
Just that I had managed to ignore that for months.
So when I had that light-bulb moment, finally, after all those months. And I realized me and Christopher were testing the waters about what we wanted,  that’s when I did the bravest thing imaginable.
I would call it my personal, most altruistic moment to date.
I gave him a little heads up that I would love to go on a date, but that it would probably not be without risk and that I could imagine him passing. THAT’S ALL I WROTE.
And then he answered to that, and he did choose for his wife and marriage.
It was a very mature conversation, between two emotionally mature individuals. It was drama-free, respectful and discrete.
It’s been months. I’ve carefully avoided him, and I never saw him again.
And yet I can still remember every single word.

<3LSH
An unexamined life is not worth living

Love makes the world go round is the thirty-fourth chapter from Project M. 

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spotlight on:
Het Boek Benjamin
verzameld werk Engels en Nederlands
2006-2016

Een meisje vrijt met een jongen en een homoseksuele man. Naast het overweldigende verlangen, is ze zich hyperbewust van de risico’s. Zal haar lust het winnen van de angst?
Zo opent het magnum opus van LS Harteveld.
Na de coming of age novelle Mango, duik je in het dagboek van een yoga docent. En hier blijken de fictieve karakters uit Mango bestaande personen.
Benjamin keert zelfs boek na boek weer terug. Maar wat is de waarheid?
En wie is Benjamin?
Het laatste boek gaat over haar affaire met een getrouwde man die ze Mr. Big noemt.
Waardoor de vraag rijst; Is hij Benjamin?
Heeft LS Harteveld haar muze in bescherming genomen en zijn identiteit veranderd? Of heeft ze een nieuwe liefde gevonden? Een vrouw leunt over een tafel. Ze is naakt, op haar blinddoek na.
Haar minnaar rekt haar grenzen op tot het uiterste van wat nog passend is, in dit spel der geesten. Misschien gaat hij eroverheen, dat blijft in het midden. Maar 25 jaar na de eerste scene, is één ding duidelijk;
de lust heeft gewonnen.

Levering in Nederland

De goedkoopste manier om mijn werk te kopen is via de uitgeverij – 
In verband met problemen met de pakjesdiensten én mijn eigen postbus,
kan ik helaas geen boeken meer opsturen.
Maar ik heb ze nog wel.
Je kunt hier beneden de beschrijvingen lezen of mijn boeken
bekijken via de webwinkel en daarna bestellen via mail:
onder mijn eigen naam
Suzanne s_beenackers@hotmail.com
Betaling is vooraf via mijn privérekening, en overdracht op het station van Nijmegen.
Signeren gratis uiteraard!

Minimale bestelling € 10
Als je een bon wilt, moet je via de uitgeverij bestellen, en niet via mij.

Hieronder het oeuvre en de prijzen.
alle boeken zijn handzaam A5, behalve Het Boek Benjamin, dat is groot studieboek formaat (soft cover) dat je open moet leggen.

Het Boek Benjamin €45
Verzameld werk boek 1 t/m 8
Beschrijving boven, losse boeken beneden. 

1. Mango, een novelle  €15
Seksuele safari, van de jaren 80 tot de zero’s.
Een stoer, technisch meisje groeit op met alleen een moeder, in de roerige jaren 80. Roken is nog van alle leeftijden, drinken idem, en seks ook zolang je bestand bent tegen voorlichtingsfolders over aids waarbij het woord AIDS in bloedspatten is geschreven.
Dat blijkt helaas teveel van ‘t goede.
Vermengd met een verleden in Afrika, en een overleden vader, ontwikkelt deze arrogante tiener een angststoornis waar geen psycholoog haar bij kan helpen. Maar ze blijft aangetrokken tot mooie jongens en homoseksuele mannen.

2. Dutch American Diary (2008-2009) €15
Yoga teacher Lauren is in love with two men; One cunning wizard and one half her age.
 The affair was secret so Lauren called him; He Who Must Not Be Named. After the dark wizard in the Harry Potter series. She tried to get over this American but after a year she only has her mistakes to show for. Including dating an Israeli spy and a Buddhist photographer.
Now her wizard obsession is back full throttle and the next disaster has already emerged;  an attractive yoga student. Young enough to be her son.
Faced with nothing but diabolic choices, Lauren confides in her best friend; the warm and friendly Lara. Despite having the same nationality as He Who Must Not Be Named, and working at the same office coven, Lara seems to lack his foul nature.
Or does she?
Once you’ve read Dutch American Diary? You’ll never ever in your life make the mistake of messing with a yoga teacher. 
~Dutch American Diary part 1

3. 22 Erotische Verhalen €15
Literaire pornografie in de geest van Anais Nin en Isabel Allende.
Ze komen en gaan; de kleurrijke personages in deze dromerige erotische wereld, waar ze je één verhaal lang deelgenoot maken van hun diepste verlangen en hun ergste pijn. Die vaker wel dan niet op magische wijze met elkaar verbonden blijken.
Grenzen worden genegeerd, lusten gebotvierd, wonden geheeld.
Sinds Anais Nin heeft geen schrijver zo onbevreesd het grijze gebied durven te betreden tussen het verbodene, het gruwelijke en het goddelijke. De lezer krijgt naast onversneden liefde en zinderende ontknopingen, ook een spiegel voorgehouden die je laat zien wat er zich afspeelt in de donkerste delen van je ziel. 

 4. LS Diary (2012-2013) €10
About three dark men and Lauren getting naked on stage. Not necessarily together.
 Being dark, smart, and handsome, a Dutch writer bears the characteristics Lauren only knows  too well. He looks exactly like her male muse and unwanted protagonist in the majority of her writing.
A published writer and sought-after talk show guest, the Dutch writer has succeeded where blogger Lauren is failing year after year. After year. She feels the weight of her unpublished manuscripts, and her failed attempts to become a writer. To make matters worse she already has one ill-natured stalker. As if the liabilities of being famous have preceded its benefits.
Lauren gets her shit together prioritizing her work, ignoring men, sex and stalkers. But will it work?  Star struck Lauren meets the celebrity in real life, and soon enough her supposedly highly efficient sex-free life includes a naked guest appearance on stage, a blow-job in a parking garage and a seven month relationship.
~LS Diary can be read as standalone or as Dutch American Diary part 2

5. De Candystop (2013) €10
Waar de Nederlandse literatuur tot stilstand komt door een Marokkaanse lekkernij.
Getergd door een rits onduidelijke medische klachten, besluit Lauren geen suiker meer te eten, geen Chardonnay meer te nemen, en geen latte macchiato’s meer te drinken.
Na een paar weken is ze zo apathisch dat ze zelfs vergeet te masturberen.
Tot een jonge Marokkaanse god op tv verschijnt die tegen Lauren zegt;
“LauRRRen! WakkeRRR woRRRden! Ik ben ook schRRRijveRRR en ik heb ook een leuk leven!”
Dat is zo. Sam doet de vier s’en. Hij schrijft, hij sport, hij sekst en hij slaapt.
Ineens weet Lauren nog steeds niet waar het naartoe moet met haar leven, maar ze is wel klaarwakker. Zeker als ze erachter komt, dat Sam binnen een week een optreden geeft bij haar om de hoek.
Sam doet haar denken aan een verboden relatie met haar leerling, iets waar ze gemengde gevoelens over heeft. Sam wil die best met haar onderzoeken, maar hij vraag een prijs…

6. Bedtime Stories (2014) €15
Facing her demons and her muse, Lauren’s sexual history gets its worthy finale.
Lauren is corresponding with Elliot, but somewhere between The Netherlands and Vegas, things have stranded. To get their project back on track Lauren resorts to strong measures: making the whole damn thing public.
Sharing eight months of her life, Lauren’s third diary reintroduces all popular characters, such as writer Rafael and his legendary mythical counterpart Benjamin. Young writer Sam and his ghost twin Valentino.
Closing the Dutch American Diary trilogy, the 1991 story lines are finally tied together. With an extremely satisfying ending. Although not in a way anyone saw coming.
 ~LS Diary can be read as standalone or as Dutch American Diary part 3

7. Mirage (2014) €5
Giving you a little dessert, with all gorgeous writers from previous books.
Lauren, the former hedonistic cougar, is home bound, mothering her little ones, sick with worry and about to get dumped by her lover. Together with autumn setting in, Lauren needs her annual Cute Writer Fix more than ever. And this year there’s five of them.
Including a lunch date with the most famous author of the Netherlands; her youth love Henry.
~Mirage can be read as standalone or as the epilogue to the Dutch American Diary trilogy.

8. Big, diaries & erotica (2015-2016)  €20
The crown to Lauren’s life; a secret affair with her Biggie.
Ten years and ten lovers have taught Lauren two things.
One: single life is a disaster.
And two: men suck at anal sex.
So when Mr.Big comes along and succeeds where all the others have failed, Lauren is euphoric. She immediately picks up her pen to write about it, and her first story is indeed called “The Biggie”, about his flawless performance.  
For two years Lauren documents her secret affair with the married business man. She writes about their explosive encounters, her unwavering love, and her powerful insights. Gradually, Lauren changes. From an scarred single, to a woman totally owning her worth and her true nature. Ten years after ending her relationship in order to explore love and sex in all their forms, Lauren Harteveld becomes the ultimate mistress.

los verkrijgbaar, niet in Het Boek Benjamin:

Witte Tijgerin €5
Gids voor solitaire vrouwen die een geweldig seksleven willen en plenty energie.
Een Witte Tijgerin is een alleenstaande, onafhankelijke vrouw. Haar contact met mannen is erop gericht dat ze er energie van krijgt. Stel je voor! Nooit meer gehannes met beginnende relaties die het toch nét niet zijn. Nooit meer die morning-after backlash. Geïnspireerd op het klassieke Taoïstische werk De Witte Tijgerin van Hsi Lai, onthult deze gids;
– hoe je de touwtjes in handen houdt
– hoe je je liefdesleven gebruikt voor je plezier
– hoe je met seks je jeugdigheid herstelt.
Hij zal niet kunnen wachten om weer met je af te spreken!