Monday, October 26

Violated with love

They will see us waving from such greatHeights
'come down now,' they'll say
But everything looks perfect from far away
'come down now,' but we'll stay...
- The postal service

I received a fucking loveletter today. It wasn't an email or even a text but an actual letter, written on papper with ink, sealed and everything. So to all of you who still believe the thought of french men being old fashioned to be a myth, take that. He wrote ten sentences about my eyes, five about my long blonde hair and twenty two about my breasts. Twentyfuckingtwo.

Do I sound upset? Well I am, I feel violated by this. All I wanted in Paris was to get nails pierced into my skin, for someone to pull my hair and to orgasm. I didn't seek any love, and didn't think I got any. But obviosly, there is no way to sleep with someone without emotions. Belive me, I've spent the last three years searching for someone who can fullfill these needs without the emotinal attachment but clearly I still haven't found it. Men are needy and I won't deal with it.

celibacy- it is now my only option.


Miri said...

celibacy is never an option. But if you succeed I'll be your first fan.

Audrey said...

agree with miri, hun don't go that direction. to seek passion without attachment in paris is like seeking for italians who's not all buttered up. we all know they don't exist, except in our wildest dreams. I mean, I'm still here hoping to find my own nirvana, years and years - we still go looking, coming back disappointed and with tiny scrathes when we search for wild ones to rip our feeling out just for a moment. But we do go down that line again, and again and again. It's just like the sad french song - the moral of the history is that men are bastards and the moral of the moral is that women like bastards..

Anna said...

your blog is awesome. and i absolutely love the postal service! x