STFU and Train

Had a couple good conversations yesterday – one with one of my youth girls and one with Coach… so this one is maybe a little long. Enjoy.


“You got Chlamydia? I didn’t see that coming…”

This was the first comment one of my youth girls had yesterday after finishing my book. She picked it up on Friday night, and five days later she was finished.

Claire, who told me last night she wants me to write about her on my blog because she is awesome, took me aback as usually when people read my book they have different passages that jumped out at them. Specific boys usually jump to the forefront, not the Chlamydia. I suppose some people just don’t find the fact I had an STI surprising.

“Yes, Claire, that’s why last year when you and Tan had some assignment about STIs I told you I could easily assist you if you needed help, Haha.”

We had a good chat, and I’m pleased to note that she has a much more open relationship with her mother and plans to involve her when it comes to decisions that will affect her sexual health.

I didn’t have such a relationship with my parents. While I can’t blame all of my decisions on this lack of ease talking to my parents, I do feel that possibly I wouldn’t have made as many likely dangerous decisions regarding men if I did have these conversations first.

Let’s be honest though, some of these decisions were made on the fly and I might not have even been able to have particular conversations first.

Luckily I lived in a progressive country, so while my parents were of the religious sort that insisted on sexual purity etc etc, I had plenty of access to sexual education and resources that assisted me in navigating the waters on my own – and doing so relatively safely; warped sense of self notwithstanding.

Let’s face it man-that-gave-me-chlamydia (Timmy) and I did actually use protection, though he protested initially and it failed. The main dangerous issue was the situation itself that I put myself in. WTF was I thinking? Haha, well… I know what I was thinking… I’ve written about it before. Still.

Still, I hope I can be as open and honest with my kids when they get older and vice versa. They’ll still make their own decisions and very likely their own mistakes… But maybe they’ll be able to avoid the really dangerous situations. Maybe. Hopefully.


In other news, I had a nice little chat with Coach last night too. He at one point threatened me with another Shark Tank because I said he was often a “special case” haha… and then later we talked about Saturday. I told him I had felt like I was gonna die…

“But did you die?”

“No, just nearly.”

“Nearly isn’t good enough. If we didn’t have to resus you, you didn’t train hard enough. STFU and train,” or something to that effect is what he told me.


He is so mean to me. I swear I will start writing all this stuff down and do a “Dan is mean to me” blog post one day, LOL. (Yes, yes… his name is Dan too. Not to be confused with ex-Dan or Vollie-Dan, that’s why I usually just refer to him as “Coach” here.)

Anyway, he then told me in in all seriousness that his actions speak louder than words, because he let me stop.

“I appreciate that, but it also just ended up making me feel like the class weakling again,” I said.

He scolded me, saying I know they are not like that. He then told me it actually looked serious, that’s why he stepped in. He would have otherwise made me do the whole 6 minutes if he thought I was faking or something.

He said I should know he is always looking out for me – because he doesn’t want me to be murdered, haha, or alternately get injured and/or give up. He said he even chose the last guy (that was the one that cut off my air flow) because he assumed he would go easier on me; little did he know that this guy would try to “kill” me. He also noted that at least I know now that at this point I could put up a struggle against an attacker for a good 3 minutes at least – which is nearly 3 minutes more than I could do when I started a few months ago.

Well, this conversation made me feel a little better. Honestly, it’s comforting to know that my pain was obvious. Makes me feel like less of a whiner, I guess, and maybe – just maybe – I might be tough enough to eventually hold my own against these guys.

Anyway, though Coach can be so SO mean sometimes; I do think he is a really good one…. and I really don’t mind when he makes fun of me. I actually find him very amusing.

Shhhh… Don’t tell him I said that. He might end up even cockier than he already is, Haha.


This isn’t everyone, just those from last night. I’m in purple. Coach is the one that looks like a “special case” in blue in the front 😂


The dude wasn’t friends with Females

In real life, when I tell my stories, I am never sure if I should use people’s real names… as is natural… or their pseudonyms from the blog/books. I’m not always sure who has really followed the stories as a whole and would get confused by the use of real names or who haven’t read about certain people at all and I have no need to make that connection for them.

Most often I start with the fake name, if I know someone has read my stuff… and then feel the need to explain and switch over to make it easier on myself. In fact, when writing the last post, I almost published it with Dane’s real name out of habit… That wouldn’t have been good.

This evening a friend of mine asked me if Dane was [his real name] and I said yes. Then she said “So he was around when David happened? …What is David’s real name?” So I explained the true identity and how I came to the reasoning that David’s name was to be David (which I unfortunately I can’t explain here with out clearly outlining his name.)  Then we got into the discussion that outlined the issues I have pertaining to this…

In the moment I realized I fucked up and have probably already confused some people I know because I explained that in one post I wished I had slept with Jimmy back in the day and then on my personal FB I shared a one night stand regret list that I found funny and tagged some friends telling them I don’t regret Jimmy as much anymore after reading that.

Two different guys. One’s real name is Jimmy… the other is a fake name. My friend was confused too so I had to explain that too… The only reason I changed real Jimmy’s name is because in the first book I felt like I was supposed to change everyone’s name regardless. Jimmy was a one-line character. No need to have done it… and further when I wrote the story out I said “fuck it” and named his friends with their real names…. But since his was already different… Confused yet? Yeah.

Real Jimmy is the fucker that gave me Chlamydia… The muscular dude that fell asleep on top of me. The one that Patrik arranged me for. The highlight of my young life. That… That right there was sarcasm, FYI.

Fake Jimmy can be explained well enough if you search him on this blog 😛

Ha, I actually came on here to write further about Dane and that ended up being a longer explanation than I planned… so to circle back… My friend asked me about Dane and if he was the dude I talk about in real life by said omitted name.

I thought about him some more on my way home and I had a memory pop into my head. It’s been a long time since we decided we were to be BFFs.. Years ago… late 2006… we were hanging out – I don’t remember exactly what we were doing – when he said to me that it was strange, us hanging out so much. I asked why, because it felt natural to me. He said it was strange because he wasn’t “friends with females” …The last word dripping with disdain.

Dane can be a real cocky bastard sometimes. He can be chauvinistic and somewhat misogynistic – though he has gotten much better than the old days… (Why do I always get drawn to the cocky guys?? LOL)

I must have given him a look when he emphasized “females” that way – though I don’t know that he noticed. He then went on to explain that he actually had fun with me and he felt comfortable with me.

I don’t recall who said it – but the conclusion from the conversation was we were obviously “OMG Best Friends FOREVVVEEERRR.” (Come to think of it that was probably me 😉  LOL ) and from then on we’d say that to each other (haha usually it was him as I recall) at some point every time we’d get together… and it just stuck.

Who knew that BFF boy and I would stick together this long? I mean… The dude wasn’t friends with females after all…

Oh, for Prompt’s sake

Yesterday I stumbled upon the idea of Journal Prompts. I’ve seen people blog to writing prompts, and while I get the reasoning behind it, or the need some people might feel to use them – I never felt they were worth my time. I write when I want to write and I only write what swims around in my brain before I sit down to do it.

But journaling prompts? The idea is even more foreign and unattractive to me. By journaling I naturally think of writing in a diary. Why would I write anything other than what I have to get out of my head or document about my life in such a case? Why would I write what other people suggest?

As I scanned through some sites that offered journal prompts, it occurred to me that many of them seem much like questions a teacher might ask you to write answers to – so I guess that makes sense if they mean journal as in a project book you have for school… Something more focused on talking about your own opinions, etc rather than creative writing prompts I usually see referred to on some blogs.

Anyway, I just don’t get it I guess…. And none I’ve seen has even caused me to gain an idea to write about something I haven’t yet shared. I guess, to be fair, there were several questions that I feel like I have answered already – so maybe they could have been helpful early on in my writing/blogging life.

I also find it confusing that on one site it said to write about memories associated with a smell… and then gave a list of smells. Besides the fact that I’ve written about scent memories before, unprompted, I am aghast that cigarette smoke didn’t make the list. That is a strong scent memory I have – usually associated with the courtyard at school, usually associated with Dan and friends. All the actual mentioned smells I could answer in just a few words:

  • pine needles: Christmas
  • cut grass: Grandpa’s lawnmower
  • sunscreen: Fishnet Festival with Wyatt
  • rubbing alcohol: The clinic I always got my overseas immunizations
  • cinnamon: Mom’s hot cider
  • stale beer: Timmy, asleep on top of me.
  • pencil erasers: 4th grade
  • vinegar: making Easter eggs

…and I’m tired of that now. Only half the list, if I’m honest. Most of those I wouldn’t care to write about, and I doubt you’d care to read. I have already written about Timmy crushing me and making it hard to breathe with the smell of beer yeast coming from his pores. Trust me when I say I needed no prompt to remember that and write…

Look, I don’t mean to come off as judgmental, but when I am browsing blogs on the explore function… and they state they are following a prompt, I tend to switch off. It makes it less attractive for me to read – especially when I see several people are writing off of the same prompt that day.

I want to read original ideas, I want to read you. I want to write and share me. It’s different if, say, someone specifically asks a question or wants an elaboration – but writing from generic prompts is… boring at best.

Hell, I’m boring myself with a post just about prompts…

All I’m saying is, really, is if you do use prompts for your writing… Don’t state it. Don’t make it obvious, or do the one everyone else is doing that week or whatever.

Write unique; write you.

Hur Rae blev smittad med Klamydia (or “Boys have Cooties”)

In previous posts I have mentioned briefly that when I was a young adult, I was stricken with Chlamydia. You can see these references here, here, and here.

Maja thinks it is funny to no end that I acquired this affliction and still periodically teases me about it to this day. Svea suggested I write about it because it would be the next step up juiciness-wise after what I wrote about Timmy. I was a little hesitant to post about it so soon after those posts since that was kind of in-your-face. Yet, I then thought that it might be shocking to lull you into a false sense of security and then one day you check your reader or email and BAM! Chlamydia!

Hahaha. So anyway, here goes nothin’

It was late 2001 or early 2002 when I went to Kungsholmens’ school nurse complaining of an off-feeling tummy. (Maja seems to remember I had some other symptom(s) but I don’t recall them.)

The nurse said that it could be nothing of consequence, but advised a trip to Ungdomsmottagning anyway. UM was the free youth clinic, so I made my way over there. I didn’t suspect much about what my troubles might be.

I sat in the waiting room flipping through various brochures and magazines, avoiding eye contact with any other youth there. We were in Sweden after all. I did notice  couple sitting together – I wondered if it was merely a support situation or the more likely scenario of coming for pregnancy/STD testing.

My mind had started wandering when the nurse came into the room and called out “Rakel!”

I didn’t react initially, so she looked around at the few girls in the room and repeated “Rakel…Jansson?”

It suddenly dawned on me. Duh. She was pronouncing my name in Swedish.

“Oj, det är Jag,” I said as I got up. “Förlåt mig,” I mumbled an embarrassed apology and followed her out.

During this appointment it was revealed to me that I had Klamydia / Chlamydia (I still tend towards spelling it in Swedish as that is how I was introduced to this particular condition. So please forgive if I flip back and forth.)

They told me it was a pretty bad case and that I had also likely had it for quite a long time. They also told me that, if left untreated, Klamydia can turn you sterile. To be honest, it took me 6 years of actively trying to get pregnant once I was married. I was so scared that  it was because of this history. The doctor at the time did a bunch of tests and couldn’t find anything… but wanted to schedule another test that had to be done at certain times in a cycle – and I never got around to it. Maybe it was always bad timing, maybe it was fear of finding out my issues were based out of my teen mistakes. I don’t know… but I never did that test.

It was a requirement to report all exposed parties to the government so I had to provide as much personal identifying info as I could about my partners.

I was so sure it would have been from Sven, as he was the only one I had sex with without protection. The nurse told me, regardless, all partners for at least the previous year should be notified and documented.

The only other partner during this time frame would have been Timmy, of whom was before Sven and I started up. Prior to that was Viktor – of which we were our mutual firsts, not withstanding the consistant use of condoms in our relationship. So I was definite that it was not from him. Svea agrees even now, Viktor was her friend and he would not have been the kind to lie about being a virgin.

I called Sven first, intending that that would be the only necessary call. He got tested and called me back with the results – they were negative. He also explained how painful the test was for guys back then. Not sure if they still do it the same way, I hear all you need is a urine sample now (so guys, don’t let my statement put you off of getting tested!) I felt a *little* bad for him. Either way, I was taken aback that Sven didn’t have it.

Shit. I’d have to deal with Timmy again.

The condom must have broken or something. Shitty “cherry” flavored piece of shit.

That boy gave me cooties…

After I had hooked up with Timmy and left his flat in the morning; he had texted me that day telling me to avoid contact with him because he was now “back with” his girlfriend. The guy didn’t want to get caught, it seems.

Regardless of this last communication, I was required to contact him if I was able. I tried calling him anyway. He ignored my calls. I couldn’t even leave a voice mail.

Rat Bastard.

The only other thing I could think of was to call either Patrik or Ronnie (for some reason I also still had their numbers in my phone… Don’t ask why. I can’t tell you.)

I can’t remember who I got a hold of, but whoever it was (I’m leaning towards Ronnie) had no issue handing over his mother’s phone number.

That’s right, friends. I called Timmy’s mum and told her that her son needed to be tested for Chlamydia. She assured me she would pass the info along to him. This was good enough for the Ungdomsmottagning nurse.

In the meantime my “BFFs” had a large time making fun of me for catching it.

“Why?! Why am I the one to have this? If any of us were to get this – I would have expected Maja to get it first!”

Maja was a little offended, naturally… so she called me a Hussy.

To be fair – at the time she was putting up a front that she was slutty and a party animal. A classy slut, but a very active one. With that kind of persona, why wouldn’t one expect that over someone who had less partners than what she claimed to have?

When I was done with the meds, I had to go back and get retested. I ran in on a late Friday afternoon so this time I had to wait a couple of days for the results. When the results came in, I was out shopping with a couple of friends. My mobile rang and on the other end was the nurse saying that I still had it. She said my case had gone undetected for so long and had gotten so bad that the usual med pack wasn’t sufficient. She told me to come back ASAP to get more.

I hurried over to the UM to pick up the new meds. Grossed out even more that Timmy’s germs were still on me. Luckily, a week or two later – when I got tested for a third time – I came out clean.

Followup to “That One Night”

**Not for youth audiences again please**

Look, I know putting that^^ little notice won’t stop any young people from reading these posts if they want to. May even peak their interest… So if any youth actually read these posts regardless of my request, I hope that you are at least taking a lesson or two from them.

As I told one girl previously, I’d rather just tell you the lesson, not the whole story. …and hope you’d still recognize it as sage advice. Maybe that’s not the best way to pass on my learned wisdom, but who am I to say what’s appropriate for you to hear/read?

The lesson I want to impart from “That One Night” is this (aimed particularly to young women, but not bad for young men either):

Basically, be careful of the precarious situations that you could get yourself in with men. Critical thinking skills can overcome naïveté, if you just take the time to really think about what you’re doing and what possible outcomes could happen. Buddy system is always good too.

I also want to add a disclaimer so there are no misunderstandings. At the time I did not feel in danger of being raped or anything. I was simply naïve to the situation and did not realize until later what was likely going on. I stated that going along with it likely saved me from being raped – this does NOT mean I suggest just going along with something like that to avoid rape. If you feel in danger, fight and/or get away if you can.

Anyway, one more thing before I start: I noted that Patrik is the one guy’s real name. Ronnie is a real name too. The only one that was *thinly* veiled is “Timmy” and that is simply because that is the name I used in the very brief mention of the event in the book.


I notified the girls (Maja and Svea) that I was going to be posting yesterday’s blog post. Maja is a little hard to get a hold of in real time than Svea… so I got a response from Svea right away.

“So how shocked and appalled do you think Maja will be when my post ALL about my one night stand with Timmy posts?” I ask her.

“She’ll love it!” She assures me.

Both of these girls were my besties at the time of the incident, so they already knew most of the story. Svea said she would read it and compare to her mental notes from what she remembered me saying about it at the time.

Once I published it, she called Maja to ensure that she knew she had to get on the internet right away to read it. Then Svea messaged me back the reply that Maja had for me: “You Hussy!” …Her favourite thing to say to me when we talk about such topics.

A short while later, Maja skyped me and as soon as the video popped up I saw her best “I’m horrified!” face looking back at me.

We all were talking/messaging each other back and forth about this topic and reporting on what the other friend was saying – just like being back in high school …gossiping besties… Maja reminded me of how mean she could be to me sometimes when she pointed out that I didn’t like the flavour of the condom and it put me off of Dr Pepper for quite a while after that, yet she kept buying them for me just to see me gag.

Svea insisted I must now write a juicier post to top it – perhaps even going into the klamydia events that stemmed from this night. …We’ll see.

A little later I got into a convo with Justin as well. He had not yet read the post initially, so the topic started about something else. Though I did mention he may not want to read it. He said over the years we had covered a lot of ground and spoken candidly with each other about our past – but the only thing he was still somewhat curious about is how well I moved on afterwards. He said he always felt bad about the breakup because he was concerned for my feelings.

“I think maybe the only thing about the break up I don’t think I said to you is… yeah I was hurt in general, but what really hurt me was when you called me a whore because of the stuff we did in the movie theatre. I know I said some really mean things to you too, there was a bit of back and forth… but I honestly don’t remember any other mean thing you said but that. That one really cut me. After we made up and I left, I wasn’t like still crying over it… but I was really sad when I’d hear music that reminded me of you and all that… took a little while to get over you… I was dating someone else by the end of the year though.”

He responded that this was an example of his selective memory, because he didn’t remember the breakup being particularly nasty.

“Yeah… I was really mean with some of the things I said to you. I think for me stuff I was saying was more of a self-preservation kind of deal than any form of reflection on yourself though. Because the whole relationship up till that point had been wonderful in my opinion. …and that is probably why I’ll feel weird if you were to read my current post. It paints me as a total slut tbh”

“Eh, it’s all water under the bridge… No judgment from me,” he replied.

“I do know you are more enlightened nowadays … It’s just that it kinda stuck with me and I guess I just never wanted you thinking of me like that.” I responded, also telling him he could read it if he wants to obviously.

A little while later the conversation picked up again.

“Yeah, that’s a crazy story. And a scary situation too…” his message popped up on my phone.

“I know right. Not my best decision. I remember calling my BFF when he was taking a long time coming back. I was wavering on whether I could just leave – I wouldn’t have been able to lock up behind me… plus there was the walk to the train station. She confirmed that it was dangerous… she was like “WTF are you doing in Högdalen??!””

He agreed then that it was probably the lesser of two evils to stay put as I did. Then he asked the burning question: “The dude really slept on top of you?!”

“YES. Worst night of my life. Crushing my chest and his skin reeking of beer…and I contracted chlamydia from him. Maja and Svea (my two BFFs from then) are convinced I would have been raped if I had said no. They also both apparently agreed that if I stayed out there watching porn it would have been more than just that one guy to take advantage of the situation.”

I started shaking as I was typing; shaking so much my teeth started chattering.

“God, shaking just telling you about this. So weird. I have wondered if Patrik was receiving compensation for me. Especially given that he left shortly after…”

“Sorry, it’s tough to write about I’m sure :/ Yeah, that’s a heavy burden to have to reflect on all that.” Really, honestly… It’s not the memory so much that bothered me, but the fact that I was telling Justin about it I think.

“At least it was just the once and I didn’t go off with that Ronnie guy at any point. I could have been trapped in an awful situation if I went any further with Patrik’s shenanigans.”

“I forget if the blog mentioned it… What happened with your friendship with Patrik after that event?”

“I didn’t keep talking to him. He took some money from me at one point… like 200 or 300 kronor and I tried to get it back to no avail. Didn’t see him after that….” This was shortly after I decided not to meet Ronnie. Patrik asked me directly for it – actually he asked for 500 SEK, but I just didn’t have that much. When I said I wasn’t sure, he became more demanding until he got it from me.

“I think I remember his last name now.”

“Gonna look him up on Facebook? Lol,” he asked.

I responded in the affirmative and a few minutes later told him “Um. I think I found him. Not positive… obviously dresses differently and would have quit bleaching is hair… but fuck me if this guy also doesn’t have a friend named “Ronnie.”… It fucking is. Timmy is his friend too… and he looks pretty much the same, except he looks a bit leaner now.”

“Might not crush you as much when he falls asleep now.”

Hardy Har Har, Justin!

I told him that I needed to go to bed and he responded with a “Good Night.”

“Thanks hun, you too …and thanks for not calling me a slut…”

That One Night


**Not for youth audiences please**

Alternative titles: “Not my most shining moment,” Or “Hur Rae blev smittad med klamydia.”

When I was in Sweden… 17 or so, I believe I was at this time… Maybe early 18. I met a guy named Patrik. Real name, who gives a crap at this point honestly. We have no connections and I don’t recall the last name, so who would know it’s him anyway?

I met him when I was working at the Embassy. He had come for a few days as a contractor for some manual labor type job – installing security glass or something. He was a big old flirt, slightly older than me – early 20s. Tall, blond spiky hair and wore a backwards baseball cap. Had earrings. I just realized today I apparently have a type… at least one type anyway, and not what I’ve mentioned before. Apparently at least two other guys previously mentioned fit this same mold. This particular guy was also a DJ outside of his full time employment.

Anyway, he was flirtatious asked for my phone number and I gave it to him. He turned out to be a douche so I won’t spend much time talking about him specifically.

During one conversation he said he’d like to date me and then kept going back and forth changing his mind. I got annoyed and told him just to make up his mind and if he wanted to go out with me, I’d go out with him. If not, then fine – but stop wasting my time. Eventually I was annoyed enough to just tell him to forget it; I didn’t want to date him anyway.

But then he called me because he had a friend that wanted to meet me. This guy’s name was “Timmy” …it seems strange to my American ear, but the Swedes like to have names that end in -y, even for men. In the US many of those types of names are for small children. Not all, but many… Either way, this guy was also young 20s and went by Timmy. Svea and Maja tell me that it is a true statistic that in Sweden men with the names ending in -y sound are very overrepresented in prison, they are not considered “classy names.” Which makes sense to my experience with them.

Patrik also at one point tried to hook me up with a “Ronnie” some 25 year old. Had a few conversations with him, but never bothered meeting him. Seemed like a nice guy though…

I didn’t bother meeting Ronnie because of what happened with the meeting with Timmy. I almost did, but after I really sat and thought about it – I realized that I was someone they just wanted to use for sex. Likely Ronnie was in the same mind, though he hadn’t proposed anything on the phone.

The evening I went to meet Timmy, Patrik met me at the train station near Timmy’s flat at Högdalen in south Stockholm. He walked me over to Timmy’s flat and we both went in where Timmy and some other guy were. One chick alone in an apartment with three guys I did not really know. God, I thought I was smarter back then.

I’m so lucky my naivete didn’t get me in more trouble, as it could have done several times over. Yet, this particular night, in hindsight I realize that my compliance may have saved me from a worse fate. I’m sure you can guess what might have been otherwise.

So basically, Patrik and the other guy went on the balcony to smoke and have some beers. Timmy asked if I wanted to watch TV with him, so I set my purse down and sat on the couch. He then sat down next to me, put his arm around me, his other hand on my thigh, and turned on the telly. It was porn. Dude turned porn on… and then did an obviously fake “Oj då!” (Oops!) Then he said something asking me if I wanted to watch it anyway, with a wink. I must have given him a weird look or something and told him I didn’t care either way… So he cut straight to the chase and said we could go hang out in his bedroom and get to know each other. Of course I knew what he was getting to – I wasn’t THAT naive.

So we went to his room and I sat on his bed while he shut the door. We chatted for a moment while he turned music on or something, then he straight up said it. He found me attractive and would like to have sex with me. I was by no means a virgin at this time, and I was trying to keep my mind off of Dan – as I mentioned in another post… so I said sure. Whatever. I didn’t really care either way. I think my nonchalance had to do mostly with my low self esteem when it comes to men. I also had pretty much acclimated to the Swedish thinking of sex and I didn’t want to come off as a prude.

At least he was attractive, right? No? Not a good enough reason, you’re right… but… at least he was attractive. He stood in front of me. He took off his shirt and he was muscular under his clothing. least he’s attractive, I thought.

Timmy said he didn’t have any condoms. I insisted we needed them so he went to the store quickly to get some, yelling out to the others he would be right back. He came back a few minutes later saying that the store was closed and that it would be okay because he’d pull out. I put up a bit of a fight because I didn’t believe he had even gone out. He then went and asked one of the other guys for one and came back with a flavored one that Patrik had.

Cutting through it – it happened. It bored me to be honest. I told him I was done before I really was just to get him off of me. Of course, he still had to finish…

I put my clothes back on and walked out to the balcony as Timmy went to the bathroom. Patrik turned as I reached the door. Then he turned back out to look across the view as he took a drag of his cigarette.

“How was he?” Patrik asked me.


“Was he any good?”

Ah, of course. Patrik knew from the start that Timmy would want a lay.

I knew what I was supposed to say. Of course I didn’t tell Patrik it was shit. I said Timmy was pretty good in bed.

Shortly after those two guys left. Timmy asked me to stay for a bit. I agreed. He actually seemed nice for that little while. He got a call and said he had to run down to meet someone around the corner to get something. I told him that was fine and that I should get going.

He told me I couldn’t go. He said he was concerned for my safety as his area of town was dangerous after dark. I told him I was really hungry, so I should just go – the train station wasn’t that far. If he wanted to walk me there he could. He told me I could get something out of his kitchen. So we went over there and all he had was tuna, almonds, and batteries. YUH-UM. lol

He shrugged his shoulders and said I could have it if I wanted and that he’d bring me something back. I gave up and agreed to stay.

He was gone for several hours. So much for the “15 minutes” he said he’d be gone for. I went ahead and laid down in his bed to try to get some sleep – I had nothing better to do anyway. Then, in the early morning hours he came back. He had literally forgotten I was there. He came home and I woke up to him talking loudly to his father who had come and was hanging out with his own lady friend in the living room. I heard his father tell him there was a girl in his bed. Timmy came straight in to check it out and made some surprised exclamation. He was obviously pleased to see me there. He shut the door and hurried to take his clothes off and then got on top of me. He absolutely reeked of beer – it was coming from his pores.

He kissed me and then immediately fell asleep. He fell asleep on top of me – and he was heavy.

Safe to say that was the worst night’s sleep I’d ever had. I was able to move just enough to be able to breathe better, but couldn’t get him all the way off of me. Whenever I got close to releasing myself, he would throw an arm over me and pull me back.

In the AM he woke up to a monster hangover. I wasn’t surprised. He asked me to wait and he would walk me to the train station. He was in there for 45 minutes. Then the doorbell rang. I answered it and a woman was there telling me she was his mother and she needed to see him about something.

I went into the bathroom to get him and he was asleep in the shower. So I gently woke him and told him of his visitor. I told him I’d wait outside for him to get dressed and finish his business with his mum.

As I walked out of Timmy’s flat, my phone started ringing. I picked it up and it was a guy asking for Rae. “This is she,” I said.

“Hi, my name is Ronnie… Patrik gave me your number.”