Category Archives: The French Connection

Chris Horlacher – Maple Leaf Metals and Mold, Oh My!

Chris Horlacher hopped on the defamo train about 4 years ago by announcing on Facebook that Laura is a convicted criminal…

Horlacher lying on Facebook

…. which is an absolute LIE, and very easy to research.  Laura lived in Florida for her entire life before moving to France with her European husband a few years ago.  Even if someone doesn’t have the cyber IQ of a snail darter and can’t do a simple records search for themselves, they can spring for a $20.00 criminal background check in Florida and it will show that Laura Knight-Jadczyk  DOES NOT have ANY criminal record record whatsoeverThere are not now,  nor have there ever been, any Civil Actions filed against her either… about the raffle, the house or anything else.

 

Since Horlacher is Net savvy enough to know how to look before he libels, one can only assume that he’s doing it on purpose.  I’m gonna take a wild guess and say it’s because Laura and Co. figured out exactly what Horlacher was all about…ohhhhh, 15 minutes or so after he opened his big, fat cyber mouth? Continue reading

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Nouveaux délires pathologiques de « Jean »

Après avoir publié la confession de Jean (qui montre de façon « pour le moins » crue son paysage intérieur aberrant), je suis encore à ce jour confrontée à ses tentatives d’intimidation – qui me visent personnellement ainsi que mes amis (Laura, sa famille). Le but étant de miner ma confiance en moi et ma liberté de choix – un de ces choix étant de démarrer une nouvelle vie sans lui. C’est une sacrée leçon de vie, une leçon qui j’espère aidera les lecteurs à approfondir leurs connaissances concernant la nature intrinsèquement pathologique de certaines personnes, et la façon dont leurs agissements peuvent affecter chacun d’entre nous.

J’ai reproduit ci-dessous son dernier email, auquel je vais répondre point par point. Comme d’habitude, je partage ces données de façon anonyme, en supprimant toute référence personnelle, etc., car mon but n’est pas de lui rendre la vie plus difficile, mais de donner aux lecteurs l’opportunité de déchiffrer le langage et le fonctionnement pathologiques. Ces données, prises dans la vie réelle, offrent une véritable occasion d’apprentissage. C’est aussi un bon exercice pour moi, car devoir examiner ses délires avec la distance critique nécessaire à l’analyse objective – les examiner de façon « clinique » et ensuite partager mes commentaires – soulage quelque peu l’angoisse et l’appréhension d’avoir à supporter ses menaces et tentatives d’intimidation sans personne d’autre pour témoigner de sa logique tordue.

Maintenant, si c’est à moi de réfléchir comment m’y prendre.
Il y a ici de quoi alimenter plusieurs chefs d’accusation : [contre LKJ et sa famille]
- diffamation publique [en référence à la publication de mon témoignage et de sa confession]

Il ne s’agit pas de diffamation publique, puisque des pseudonymes ont été utilisés – en dépit du fait que plus d’une personne dans l’entourage de Jean gagnerait à être informé de son comportement indécent, prédateur et déshumanisé. Le texte est authentique, ce sont ses propres mots – ce qu’il ne nie pas. Comme il  m’avait écrit lui-même à l’époque :

Au fait, tant que j’y pense, lors du formatage de ma machine j’ai oublié de sauvegarder le vomitif en 20 feuillets que je t’ai fait parvenir. Continue reading

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More pathological rants from “Jean”

After my publication of Jean’s confession (which quite graphically shows his appalling inner landscape), I still have to face his desperate attempts to intimidate me and my friends (Laura, her family) and to destroy my confidence and freedom of choice, choice which was to start a new life away from him. It is indeed an intense learning experience, one which I hope will help readers to deepen their knowledge about the inherently pathological nature of some people, and how it can affect each and every one of us.

I’ve copied below his last email, which I’ll be addressing step by step. As usual, I’m sharing this data anonymously, removing any personal reference, etc., because my point is not to make his life more difficult, but to give readers an opportunity to decipher ‘psychopathological’ language and mode of functioning. These data, taken from real life, offer a great learning opportunity. It’s also a good exercise for me, as having to look at his sick rants with the critical distance needed for objective assessment – to look at it clinically and publish my comments for others to read – somewhat relieves the anxiousness and apprehension of having to read his threats and attempts at intimidation on my own, without anyone to bear witness to his twisted thinking. Continue reading

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The French Connection Redux – Cult Accusations and The Deviant Mind

fotcm logoSott.net is a popular news and news analysis web site, but how many of our readers know what goes on behind the scenes here? For those who don’t, we think it’s time you were brought up to speed, for a very specific reason.

First, a little history.

Sott.net (aka Signs of the Times) began as a small internet project of Laura Knight-Jadczyk back in 2002. Particularly since the 9/11 attacks, Laura had been keeping a close eye on current events and noticing the increasing levels of propaganda and lies that were being passed off as ‘news’. She had also begun to notice that many very interesting stories were receiving very little coverage by the major media outlets, not to mention the items that were being scrubbed from the net. Her natural response (natural for her, but perhaps not everyone), was to create a web site to remedy this. In the 9 years since then, Signs of the Times has grown into the Sott.net you know and appreciate today and holds true to the initial remit of its founder – to bring some truth and sanity to an increasingly mendacious and insane world.

Laura’s penchant for digging into stories to find the truth of the matter did not begin in 2002 however. For many years previous (all of her adult life in fact), Laura had been driven by a need to figure out the nature of the world in which she lived. Her long years of studies and research spanned a breathtaking array of subjects, from ancient history, to psychology to the paranormal and back again. It should be said that her studies and research never strayed too far from the standard academic views on these topics. In the early 1990′s however, a number of (at the time) inexplicable experiences (detailed in her autobiography Amazing Grace) prompted Laura to delve into research on – horror of horrors – the hysterical world of UFOs and alleged alien abductions. As she is wont to say, of all the people who never wanted to know anything about UFOs, she deserves a place at the head of the line. But there it was, things had happened that were inexplicable and Laura wasn’t going to shove them under the rug.

To cut a long story short, recognizing the paranormal essence of the UFO phenomenon and including this as part of her research into the branch of the paranormal known as ‘psychical research’ (wildly popular in late 19th and early 20th century England and America – seances, table-tipping, contacting dead relatives etc), she decided to try her own little experiment using what is traditionally called a ouija or spirit board, but which is really just a square piece of cardboard with the letters of the alphabet on it. Again, the reasons for this experiment and the research that went into selecting the tool for exploring the paranormal are detailed in Amazing Grace.

Enter the ‘Cassiopaeans’

 

After about two years of weekly ‘sessions’ where she and a friend or two or three would sit down on a Saturday evening and ask the stereotypical questions like “is anybody there” and receive back mostly garbled nonsense, a shockingly coherent series of ‘messages’ began to be relayed, spelled out, letter by letter via the board. Thus began what has become known as the ‘Cassiopaean transmissions‘, or to be more precise, a rather interesting experiment in ‘superluminal communication’ (based on the suggestion from the ‘Cassiopaeans’ that they are “us in the future“).

With the crucial input of her mathematical physicist husband Arkadiusz Jadczyk (whom she married in 1998 as a result of matchmaking by the Cassiopaeans), Laura used the often cryptic messages received from the ‘Cassiopaeans’ as clues to new directions for her ongoing research. As Laura has often said publicly herself, the Cassiopaean information has always been the 10% inspiration to the 90% ‘perspiration’ that she and her fellow researchers have put into their work over the past 15 years. Nothing has been, or ever will be, taken on blind faith. After all, any purported Truth, by definition, must be able to stand rigorous testing.

During this time, in addition to her other work, Laura began to post the information obtained via the board sessions on her newly created web site Cassiopaea.org (which also hosted the original Signs of the Times page). These ‘transcripts’ were received with much public interest (not to mention commentary!) and within a year Laura decided to start a Yahoo discussion group as a venue for those interested in her work to discuss the details among themselves. Prior to this her inbox had been flooded daily with questions and comments, so this was a necessary move.

In early 2003 Laura and Ark moved to France with their family. The main reasons for this trans-Atlantic relocation were Laura’s increasing revulsion at the path on which the Bush government had set the formerly democratic USA, and Ark’s desire to pursue his work and collaborate with other scientists free from the strictures he had experienced within the American scientific establishment. Rather than pursue the (potentially) long process of putting their house up for sale (George Bush was banging the war drums), Laura had the somewhat eccentric idea of holding a raffle. Tickets were issued to 1) anyone who made a $50 donation; 2) anyone who sent in a written request via snail-mail, a condition required by law. Approximately 300 tickets were issued in return for donations made and approximately 2000 tickets were issued to those who requested one by mail and made no donation whatsoever. This was not surprising given the limited marketing potential of announcing a house raffle on a relatively unknown web site.

Now, this sum of approximately $15,000 was not exactly a good deal for a house that was valued at over $100,000, but Ark and Laura made arrangements for a loan to be taken out to cover the difference, picked a winner, and left the matter in the hands of a trusted neighbor and an attorney he had recommended. Their moving expenses were supplemented by a generous gift from a friend. As it turned out (after Laura and Ark had moved to France), the winner of the house raffle was apparently stymied by the neighbor and attorney who seemingly wanted the house to go into foreclosure so they could pick it up at auction. Laura was notified about this situation by both her U.S. bank and another neighbor who stepped in to purchase the house – with Laura’s agreement – and stop the foreclosure. The main outstanding feature of this debacle was that the only real winners were the attorneys. The take-home fact from this incident is this: if Laura and Ark had decided to INTENTIONALLY run a ‘Raffle Scam’ it would not have turned into such a lawyer feeding frenzy because the ending would have been a pre-planned part of the con. Raffle scams are one of the simplest cons to pull off … any moron can do it. The scammers have a faithful follower (or even a sock puppet on the Net) gleefully posting “I won, I won” all over the web. The grand prize (car, house, etc) changes title to an anonymous corporation in Delaware … and that’s that. But none of this happened, which spells out clearly that there was no intent to defraud anyone. There was no raffle ‘scam’ and there were no ‘victims’ … just a fouled up fundraiser that didn’t turn out the way anyone planned, especially Laura.

The people who actually made donations for raffle tickets to the “seemed like a good idea at the time” fundraiser know and accept honest mistakes as a fact of life, and they don’t hold Laura and Ark to some unreasonable standard of perfection. Members bought their tickets to support their group, it was their money, and not a single one of them has brought a verifiable public complaint against Laura and Ark. Not one! The raffle was held honestly and fairly. The names of all those who responded were put into a ‘hat’ and one name was randomly selected, and that person was notified that they had won and given information about how to contact the lawyer handling the transfer of ownership. What happened after that was completely out of Laura and Ark’s hands because they had moved to France.

If anyone who actually took part in the raffle had a beef with Laura, Ark, the group, school, etc, they could easily have written a letter asking for a refund on their ticket, posted it on the many slander sites and forum threads….and SIGNED THEIR NAME TO IT. A legitimate dissatisfied raffle ticket holder could have filed an action in small claims court and posted that paperwork too.

None of this has happened, check for yourself … there are NO pending lawsuits and/or outstanding criminal charges against Laura Knight-Jadczyk and/or Arkadiusz Jadczyk! These are LIES being spread all over the Internet by Vincent Bridges, Jay Weidner, Chris Horlacher and their tiny troop of deranged minions. They’ve taken an honest mistake that Laura made and apologized for years ago, and twisted it to the point that it’s totally unrecognizable when compared to the actual truth of the matter. But enough on that topic.

In 2003, with growing public interest in their work, and an increasing number of irons in the fire, Laura and Ark decided to incorporate the Quantum Future Group (QFG), a US non-profit organisation with a mission to:

“…increase the effectiveness and impact of the results of research in the varied scientific and socio-cultural fields that are geared toward seeking solutions to the fundamental sufferings and limitations of humanity. QFG also funds other organizations and individuals engaged in similar pursuits.”

All of QFG’s finances (which are entirely derived from book sales and donations (Laura turns every penny she makes back into the work)) are publicly available for anyone interested in viewing them. The major events in the QFG calender since 2005 (which include several conferences, one, in the University Paul Sabatier in Toulouse, France) are available on the QFG web site.

During 2003, three people who had been working with Laura and Ark and had visited them in 2002 in Florida decided to join them in France and help out in a more practical way with the increasing workload of managing, editing and writing material for Cassiopea.org, including Signs of the Times, and Laura’s continuing research.

On March 8th of 2003, Laura began a sort of online diary – “Further Adventures with the Cassiopaeans: The French Connection”. The “French Connection” allusion was meant to imply esoteric connections, but things rapidly took a different turn. Laura didn’t know when she started it that it was going to become so controversial that a French Gendarme told her, after a three-hour interrogation (and fingerprinting) that, “Life will be a lot healthier for you in France if you remove that series and never speak of those things again.”

Why? The online diary of what Laura had thought would be ordinary events became something rather more, and it was only long after the fact that we here, who witnessed the events leading up to this, realized what it must have been all about. It seems that the events in her immediate environment that Laura was recording, that led to that fateful warning which she has honored until now, may very well have been activities exposing hijinks and hanky-panky in high places. At this point, in light of recent developments, Laura is reconsidering the bizarre events chronicled in that series and thinking that perhaps it is time to restore it to public view.

As a result of the fallout from “The French Connection”, early 2004 saw a move to a bigger house in France (rented) and, in the years between then and now, a significant expansion of activities.

Laura continued to write and wrote several books including her seminal work The Secret History of the World, The Wave Series (seven books) 9/11: The Ultimate Truth (co-authored with Joe Quinn), High Strangeness and edited and wrote the preface to the work of Dr A Lobaczewski under the title, Political Ponerology.

Being in France, with a small team of researchers to help out, it seemed logical to begin the process of making Laura’s work available to a European non-English-speaking audience. With the generous help of several native speakers who had long been interested in Laura’s work, the mammoth task of translating her books, online information and newly published works into French, Spanish, German etc. began. Naturally, if these books and ongoing work were to be written, edited, formatted and sold from France, a French publishing company was required. So in 2005 the French publishing company Les Editions Pilule Rouge was created. To date several of Laura’s books and masses of online articles have been translated into French, German, Spanish and other languages.

At the same time however, there was still the English book publication and sales to be taken care of. Prior to this they had been self-published and sold online under the auspices of QFG, but with the help of a long-term reader and bookstore owner in Canada, the publishing company Red Pill Press was founded in 2005.

Signs of the Times got its own domain and, through several ‘incarnations’, eventually became the much expanded Sott.net that you see here.

A Cassiopaea forum was launched in early 2006 and today hosts thousands of members all over the world discussing a dizzying array of topics. This forum is not just a discussion forum, however, it is a social experiment following the ideas of Gurdjieff, Castaneda, the Cassiopaeans, and a strong input from modern cognitive science.

Sott.net Podcasts were begun in 2005 and were produced weekly for two years (after that less frequently).

Video production capability was added in 2009 and several video presentations (on various topics) have been released, including cooking videos, Laura’s ‘Knowledge and Being’ series (to be continued), Sott Reports and the Connecting the Dots series to name but a few.

In 2010 The Dot Connector Magazine was added to our list of projects. By now, you must realize that a whole lot of work is being done by a very small group of people and all of it is being given away for free. There is nothing in our books that is not on our websites, but we sure do appreciate it when you buy the books and magazine or make donations because it keeps us going!

Between 1999 (when the first Yahoo discussion group was created) and 2011, several other similar Yahoo groups have been created for the purpose of discussing specific topics and pursuing varied projects. For example, there is a Yahoo group called Sott Work Group used by Sott.net editors to streamline the writing, editing and collating of news articles.

Also in 2009, along with Dr. Gabriela Segura and several other career scientists in the broad field of human health, the Éiriú Eolas breathing program was created. I won’t go into the details of that here because full details of this extremely beneficial technique are available online here. Suffice to say that the program has been very well received in many countries around the world where it is being taught, including locally in France.

2009 also saw the creation in the US of (horror of horrors again) a ‘church’ called ‘The Fellowship of the Cosmic Mind – Church of Revived PaleoChristianity‘, shortened to ‘FOTCM’. Now before all the atheists and disgruntled former (and existing) Christians go rushing for the door, allow us to explain. First and foremost, founding a church in the US is not much different to founding a non-profit company – check out www.startchurch.com, for example. Rampant free-market capitalism in the US has so infected all areas of American life that ‘religion’ is today very much a commodity that can be, and is, protected by corporate laws. Technically, if you believed that, for example, Charlie Sheen was the reincarnation of Jesus and you wanted to worship him, you could, if you were so inclined, found a legitimate ‘church’ for that purpose. So establishing a church in the USA is neither particularly difficult nor unusual.

However, the reason we (‘we’ being Laura, Ark and the board of directors of FOTCM) decided to take this step was not to worship Charlie Sheen or anyone or anything else. Once upon a time, ‘religions’ were established for the purpose of formally defining a set of rational, practicable principles (free from psychological traps such as guilt, sin and eternal damnation) to which anyone who found said principles to be to their liking could adhere, in a free and open way. While no major church today comes anywhere close to such a definition, FOTCM was founded on those exact principles, and you can read all about them here. There were also secondary reasons why we took this step, pertaining to the benefits concerning rights and protections that are afforded to members of any modern-day church (particularly in the USA).

But again, we don’t want to get into the specific details here because full details about FOTCM and its reason for existing can be found at the above links.

Now, admittedly, compared to what passes for a normal life these days, all of the above probably sounds a little strange or eccentric to most people, but strange and eccentric are rather subjective words, and as Bertrand Russell said: “Do not fear to be eccentric in opinion, for every opinion now accepted was once eccentric.” There aren’t many people like Ark and Laura who sincerely devote their lives to searching out the truths in our reality and freely sharing them with everyone; they cannot be bought, and have proven again and again to be incorruptible.

So just hang on a while longer, we’ll get to the main point of all of this, but first we need to take you back in time again!

In 1999, at a point where online interest in the Cassiopaean transcripts was on the rise, a person called Vincent Bridges contacted Laura and eventually visited her in Florida in 2001. Bridges presented himself as an occult researcher and would-be ‘alchemist’ and a book publisher. He wanted to publish Laura’s works and decided to organise a conference in a retreat center in California at which, he suggested, Laura and Ark would give a talk and he would sell books. Laura and Ark initially agreed but when they were informed by many vigilant readers that Bridges was not so much an alchemist as a self-styled ‘black magician’ who was into all manner of unsavory activities, they informed him that they did not want to be associated with things that were against their principles. Mr. Bridges made his choice by writing a defamatory post about them and sending it to hundreds of people whose emails he had collected from Ark and Laura’s discussion groups. It was a blatant attempt at a hostile takeover of the Cassiopaean Experiment. The result of Laura and Ark exercising their right to non-association in this way led to a 10-year-long defamation campaign against Laura, Ark and their work by Bridges and a handful of his adepts.

The central claim made by this coterie of pathologicals was that Laura and Ark were running a ‘cult’. No evidence was ever brought forth to substantiate such a defamatory claim; instead, hundreds of web pages were dedicated to spewing bucket-loads of lies about Laura, Ark, her children, her colleagues and friends, all of which was motivated solely by Bridges’ inability to accept that Laura and Ark did not want to associate with someone of his ‘caliber’. If that sounds totally bizarre, it is, but we must accept the fact that some people are simply insane. Again, we won’t go into all of the details here because it has all been documented elsewhere.

So now we jump forward again to 2009 and a situation that has arisen concerning a member of the above-mentioned Cassiopaea forum – a French woman who had also been involved in translating Laura’s work into French as a volunteer. We’ll call her ‘Marie’. In 2009 ‘Marie’ had been in an 7-year-long relationship with a French man with whom she had two children. We’ll call him ‘Jean’. As a result of her personal suffering and doubts about her relationship, ‘Marie’ began to research studies in psychology and related fields on the internet. This eventually led to her finding the academic information that we had published on our web sites and forum on these topics.

After a period of time getting to know the other members better, ‘Marie’ broached the the issue of her personal situation on one of the above-mentioned Yahoo groups that had been started by Laura (one specifically for women and which included professionals in the fields of psychology and counseling) and, over the course of the next two years, ‘Marie’ received a lot of feedback from other members. In 2009 ‘Marie’ brought the topic up on the Cassiopaea forum where, given the sensitivity of the subject and her need for privacy, it was discussed in a members-only section (“members-only” meaning that the discussion was not viewable by any old internaut but only by those who had signed up as members of our forum). All of the feedback that ‘Marie’ received, both on the Yahoo group and the Cassiopaea forum, urged her to avoid making rash decisions and to try to do what was best for her children. For two years she was encouraged to try to work things out, to find ways to make her partner feel loved and appreciated so that the psychological abuse might be ameliorated.

Around mid-2010 however, ‘Marie’ had arrived at a point where she was sure that she wanted to end the relationship with ‘Jean’, and she stated as much on the thread on our forum and to the members of the Yahoo group, whom she had been keeping up to date on the situation. ‘Marie’ began to divulge information about her growing suspicions about ‘Jean’, specifically concerning his sexual perversions and his tendency towards anger and aggressiveness, something which, until then, she had tried to rationalise away. At her own request, she received further advice from members, some of whom naturally advised that, if she was resolved to end the relationship, she might need to consider taking precautions ahead of time in the case that her partner would not take the separation well. This advice generally came from women who had “been there, done that.” Several women in the discussion/support group recognized ‘Jean’s’ pathology and suggested that he might either become violent or extremely vindictive. ‘Marie’ did not credit any of this and followed none of the advice given to her.

Many aspects of the situation were discussed, including the possible outcome of a child custody dispute. Nevertheless, ‘Marie’ went ahead with the separation her way and, as the women on the discussion group suspected, ‘Jean’ was not exactly happy with the idea, to put it mildly. What neither she nor we expected however, was the lengths that ‘Jean’ was prepared to go to in his refusal of ‘Marie’s’ right to refuse to be in a relationship with him. It certainly had many similarities to the case where Laura and Ark did not want to be associated with Vincent Bridges. ‘Birds of a feather’ and all that.

At this point, ‘Marie’ still thought that she could manage a friendly separation. But one day, ‘Jean’, who had by this time moved to his parent’s home, paid ‘Marie’ and their children a ‘friendly’ visit. When the opportunity presented itself, ‘Jean’ copied the entire contents of ‘Marie’s’ computer hard drive. Now privy to the email discussion concerning ‘Marie’s’ relationship that had taken place on the Yahoo group, including the advice given to her by other members, ‘Jean’ decided to use this exchange to try to blackmail ‘Marie’ into reconciling with him. What probably angered him the most were the numerous clear descriptions of his character and motivations as those of a very disturbed individual and he undoubtedly felt exposed by these remarks and full of anger at the people who had made them. Perhaps he felt that if he had not been seen so accurately by a group of women who had “been there, done that”, ‘Marie’ would have continued under his abusive control and thus, he saw the women’s support group as responsible for his partner leaving him (never mind that he had twice previously threatened to leave her as a means of terrifying her and keeping control!).

So, it seems that he convinced himself that the reasons ‘Marie’ had given him as to why she wanted to separate were lies, and that the ‘real’ reason was that she had been brainwashed by … well by Laura, Ark, family, colleagues and their work of course! But this claim is clearly disingenuous since ‘Jean’ had to omit many of the email exchanges and edit them in clever ways in order to support his contention! In addition, his poor grasp of English led him to misinterpret and mistranslate a lot of the exchanges.

To supplement his paranoia and delusions, ‘Jean’ immediately began an online search for ‘evidence’ to back up his claims, and it wasn’t long before he fell into the virtual arms of the aforementioned defamer-in-chief Vincent Bridges who was, apparently, only too happy to find fresh blood for his, by then faltering, long-term campaign of slander against Laura, Ark their family, their work and their colleagues.

So suddenly, and without any reasonable evidence, ‘Jean’ began to defame us with the same old accusations that Vincent Bridges and Jay Weidner, et al., have been using for the last ten years, i.e. that we were a ‘cult’.

New age grifter and conman Vincent Bridges has waged a ten-year hate-filled defamation campaign against Laura, Ark, their work, colleagues and friends.

‘Jean’ promptly joined in with a ‘discussion’ thread (now removed) on the Godlikeproductions (GLP) web site, which was manned by Bridges and a handful (read ‘two or three’) of his minions (think Renfield in Dracula). The thread comprised an amazing (from the point of view of a clinical psychologist) 300 pages of the most ludicrous, vile and downright psychopathic utterances by this handful of nutters (one of whom apparently did nothing else all day, every day, for ten years, other than attempt to keep the defamation against Laura and Ark going on the internet) ever produced in the history of internet flame wars!

One amusing part of the situation (there weren’t many) was that ‘Jean’s’ command of English was so poor that his attempts, therefore, to join in with the ‘big boys’ (with the help of google translate) and up the ante on the defamation front on the GLP forum, which included a rather peculiar use of poetry, made him sound like a psychotic French thespian. But we were in no way taking his accusations lightly. There was still the fact that he was a French citizen and given the evidence that he was not exactly of sound mind, we were concerned about the damage that his lies and defamation could do to ‘Marie’ and her children. We were fairly confident that French law would deal with ‘Jean’s’ online defamation against Laura and Ark, their family, colleagues and their work and the good reputation that they had honestly earned in the local and national French community.

As it turned out, our fears regarding ‘Marie’ have proven to be well-founded but our expectations of the French system being more rational and able to deal with a lunatic turned out to be dead wrong. That leads back, of course, to the “French Connection” series that got all the PTB people in another ‘départment’ all hot and bothered back in 2003/2004. We wonder, of course, if there are still elements of that regime feeling angry at Laura for exposing them then? But you’ll have to wait for the restoration of the “French Connection” series to understand what is meant here and we don’t want to make this any more complicated than it already is. Suffice to say that it appears that there are quite a few people who are very unhappy with Laura, SOTT and Cassiopaea and this pathetic loser, ‘Jean’, is just their tool. Nothing else really explains the events as they have transpired over the past few months.

A forum member recently wrote:

Three [friends of mine] when told about this website and this work reacted as if they were going through an exorcism. … for a reason… Because of Laura’s work on psychopathology…

Laura responded:

It IS interesting that it is this work {on psychopathology}, above all, that brings on the attacks. If I were just channeling the space brothers and going on about doomsday NWO stuff, or alien invasions, or alien raptures, or ranting about the Jews and Zionists, I think I would be left totally alone. After all, look at the many people that do that stuff with nary a discouraging word.

But god forbid that a person should bring a spiritual approach together with a scientific method and discover what is REALLY wrong on this planet. Oh, sure, there are probably hyperdimensional manipulations going on in a big way, but nobody can prove that. I can’t prove that. So I don’t concentrate on something we can’t prove. I concentrate on the probable effects: the most definite existence in our world of pathological individuals who are the root and source of all the sufferings of humanity.

Heck, if all of our reality is just simply an evolutionary process, if the Big Bang actually happened, if we are just a by-product of mindless evolution, the psychopathology problem STILL explains everything.

No matter how you cut it, psychopaths and related psychopathologies are the bane of human existence. Who needs to worry about aliens or stuff that is “out of this world” when we have psychopaths to deal with??

I don’t even see any point in focusing on Zionism except as a construct of pathology. But then, so is Christianity and Islam and about every other religion out there. Moreover, science itself, being the producer of the technological means of destruction of our planet is also corrupted by psychopathology.

So, I have basically made it possible for everybody on the planet who has an agenda against normal humans, the Earth, the Cosmos, to hate me for exposing them.

You can bet the ranch that if anybody attacks me and defames me, they are a predator and my work, in some way, threatens their possibilities for predation; that’s the bottom line.

When ‘Jean’s’ delusional rants on the godlikeproductions forum were not producing the desired result (whatever that might have been, perhaps him watching us burn at the stake while his now-repentant partner looks up adoringly at his stoically heroic visage), he created a web site, ‘thesecrethistoryoflauraknightjadczyk.info’, which he used as a vehicle to re-disseminate the ‘cult’ accusation and the lies of Vincent Bridges. When we took legal action to have that defamatory site removed, he created another (with a Taiwanese country code domain) and reproduced thereon the entire 300-page thread (now deleted) from the GLP forum.

But the worst excesses of this clearly deviant personality were yet to be revealed.

In early May 2011, we learned that one of the attendees at a 2010 Éiriú Eolas weekend course in the North of France had recently received a call from the police in Toulouse (500 miles away from her home) telling her that they were investigating a claim that the Éiriú Eolas course she had attended was a ‘front for a cult’. They wanted to know how much she paid for the course, what it involved, what was discussed and what her impression was.

Now, none of the names of the attendees at that particular course were ever made public, and most of them paid by cheque (120 euros for the weekend) so the only way the police could have identified any of them would have been by gaining access to our bank records. Moreover, attendees had benefited from a discount if they were students at the school that hosted the course. This was the case for the student who received a call. She had paid with a cheque in her husband’s name, and the police person who called initially asked to talk to him. None of us even knew his name, so it is fairly natural to assume that the only way the police could have known his name was by accessing our bank account details, viewing the cheque, and obtaining the contact details thereon.

It was immediately obvious that, at some stage in the previous two months, ‘Jean’ had taken the step of formally denouncing us as a ‘cult’ to the French Police. While we were shocked – but not exactly surprised – that ‘Jean’ had done such a thing, we were surprised (and more than a little indignant) that the Toulouse police would accept such a serious accusation (for which ‘Jean’ could not have had any real evidence) and open a formal investigation rather than first investigating (if only in a cursory way) the truthfulness of such an accusation or indeed the sanity of the accuser.

Astonishingly, the insane claims of these perverts have apparently been accepted by local authorities in Toulouse and Montauban as worthy of wasting France’s public funds on an unjustified investigation into a pathetically insignificant matter – the rage of a guy who can’t even earn enough to provide for his children. This is what amazes us. We have gotten used to defamatory ad hominem attacks and flame wars on the internet (we don’t like it, but that’s the internet), and have always simply ignored the insanity. To have an official government body take that ridiculous and obscene nonsense seriously is simply unbelievable.

So yeah, we were more than a little disturbed as you can surely imagine, but we decided that, since we had nothing to hide, the best course of action was to confront the situation head on.

So we telephoned the Toulouse police bureau and asked if there was some form of official investigation into our activities. We were informed that a complaint against us had indeed been made and that they were duty bound to investigate it. We asked if we could come and speak with them and a meeting was arranged. We assembled all relevant information that would make it clear that this was a case of defamation, pure and simple, and on the appointed day, drove the 40 miles to the meeting with the police in Toulouse. The police captain made it clear that she only wanted to speak to one person – Juliana, one of our business managers and Éiriú Eolas instructors. So, off Juliana went carrying with her the 10Kgs (20 lbs) of documents supporting our case and proving beyond all doubt that ‘Jean’ was waging a vendetta against us based on nothing more than his personal delusions. The documents also included all our legals and financials which demonstrate conclusively that the nonsense that has been propagated about us is just that: lies and nonsense.

Juliana was questioned on every aspect of our work and organizations for four hours. During that time not one page of our documents (except for a few financial records) was even looked at by the investigating officer (a female captain in the Regional Judiciary Police Service). It was clear that this woman had been totally taken in by the lies and Juliana had the bizarre impression that she had woken up and found herself back in the Dark Ages during the Inquisition. In the end, the ‘off the record’ word from the captain was that she believed that there was nothing to the allegations against us, but that process had to be followed through by them in a formal way. But that is not how things have continued to play out.

While we understand bureaucracy and the need to follow procedures, we can’t help but think that it is a lamentable state of affairs that someone with the track record and psychological profile of ‘Jean’ can walk into a police station and, with no evidence other than his ‘word’, denounce another person or group of people as a ‘cult’ and have his defamatory claims taken seriously. (Certainly, he presented his bizarre ‘synthesis’ of our work and websites – a more paranoid and delusional document has never been seen by us – and a highly altered and edited set of emails obtained illegally from his ex-partner’s computer.) What is shocking is that the police did not make any effort to confirm that the evidence he was giving them was, in fact, evidence. Even when Juliana was present and had a complete copy, competently translated, of the email exchanges at issue, the police captain REFUSED TO LOOK AT THEM! Shades of Galileo and the telescope!

So, needless to say, Juliana needed a few days to recover from the ordeal, and we all were left to digest the situation. The really frustrating part of the whole situation was that throughout 2010, Juliana and another Éiriú Eolas instructor, Pierre, had been working hard to make the very effective EE breathing program available to our local communities in France. They had succeeded in establishing twice weekly classes in two locations which were always well attended and increasingly popular. In early 2011, realising the benefits that the EE program had in other countries for public officials (prison guards, army vets, etc.), and since the program is so effective in dealing with PTSD, Pierre and Juliana had made contact with individuals in the local National Police station and French Army barracks with a view to offering classes there for free. Hardly a cultic activity, if you ask us, unless you are a very stupid cult. What self-respecting paranoid ‘cult’ member would go to the authorities and say, “Hello, would you like to participate in our classes?!”?

Éiriú Eolas is a breathing technique that involves the stimulation of the vagus nerve. It has long been known by doctors and medical researchers that stimulation of the vagus nerve has extremely beneficial effects on overall human health, and that it is particularly effective in combating stress. Now, when you think of the most stressful jobs in our increasingly violent world, which jobs spring to mind? The police? The army? It was only natural and in keeping with our overall mission to “increase the effectiveness and impact of the results of research in the varied scientific and socio-cultural fields that are geared toward seeking solutions to the fundamental sufferings and limitations of humanity” that we would think of offering the Éiriú Eolas program to the local police and army. We had already done our ‘homework’ in this respect and had conducted extensive research into the already well-known benefits of breathing and meditation techniques being used by police and military organisations around the world. As a result, we were confident in our ability to provide the local police and military forces with the scientific details of how the Éiriú Eolas program could help them to deal most effectively with the significant levels of stress that their jobs entailed.

As it turned out, the police and army representatives were very interested and had agreed to get back to us with a suggestion of dates for the first EE class on their premises. But then suddenly, at the same time that ‘Jean’ filed his complaint in Toulouse, both the police and army cancelled. We would later be told that the police class cancellation was due to internal bureaucratic wrangling, and the army cancellation was due to the fact that other activities had been planned for the dates we had scheduled with them. But to be honest, we aren’t buying anything we are being told about any of this anymore, because we have also been told, by the local Mayor, that there have been ‘rumors’ about us. So, thanks to ‘Jean’s’ pathological inability to get over himself and accept that he is not the center of the universe, all of our work as regards EE in France may have been placed in jeopardy. But again, it’s not really ‘Jean’ at fault here: it’s the medieval mind-set of those who have made it possible for ‘Jean’ to pursue his vendetta.

What is most discouraging and disheartening about the entire situation is how gullible and ‘manipulatable’ the police and judicial system in this region seem to be. That is the chief problem here. By his own admission, ‘Jean’ has a history of violence and stalking women and sexual perversion, but none of this information was taken into consideration by the authorities who appear to have launched a reprehensible stalking campaign against Ark and Laura and their work based solely on the words of a vengeance-driven and psychologically sick man. We’ve done our own investigation into the background of ‘Jean’ and know of several instances where he was involved in incidents that required police or Gendarmerie intervention, which should have resulted in a police record, but when asked about this, the police captain referred to him as a citoyen non dangereux (‘non-dangerous citizen’).

By June this year we had had enough and were no longer willing to just sit on our hands and ‘play nice’ while ‘Jean’ continued his scurrilous hate campaign and the forces of law and order took their sweet time ‘investigating’ what is clearly an open and shut case. So, despite the fact that we had been told that we could not file a complaint against ‘Jean’ as long as WE were being investigated, we made an appointment to see the local Police Commandant to file a formal complaint against ‘Jean’, just to see how things would play out. As expected, our complaint was rejected and we were told “it’s a civil matter.”

Well, back in 2003 when Laura was first falsely accused of defamation, (“The French Connection” referred to above), she was told it was a criminal matter and that was enough for the Gendarmerie in another départment to call her in for three hours of ‘questioning’, AND take her fingerprints!

In short, we have been informed that we are unlikely to see any movement on our case against ‘Jean’ until the Toulouse police have finished wasting their resources on trying to find out if there is any truth to the spurious claims of a psychologically unstable individual.

After several more weeks of phoning and trying to find out what was going on, finally, on July 25th we received a phone call from the Toulouse Police Captain telling us that they were still looking for “infractions” (maybe they’ll dig up an old unpaid parking ticket or something) and that they may need to contact more people in September. Is it just us, or is this all starting to sound like Bush and Cheney’s duplicitous hunt for WMDs? I mean, get real! After THREE MONTHS of combing through our financial records, defaming us to anybody who has ever written us a check or to whom we may have written a check, they are “still looking for infractions”?! Since Laura also breeds and sells Shelties and Collies, maybe they should contact all the people in the dog world, too. After all, we COULD be ‘brainwashing’ our dogs!

The Captain also told us that she would finally agree to interview ‘Marie’ in September. (Keep in mind that during all this time, we have no rights to pursue ‘Jean’ for his defamation using the criminal justice system, and must rely on the less efficient civil system!) How’s that for efficiency? A veritable ‘lone nut’ makes false accusations against us to the police in March claiming that we ‘mind-programmed’ his ex-girlfriend into leaving him, and the police wait until September to ask HER anything! Instead, they kick off by apparently believing the delusional rantings of ‘Jean’, then proceed to interrogate one of our instructors and ignore the evidence we supply that ‘Jean’ is psychologically unstable. Then they spend a few more months looking for “infractions” while ‘Jean’ merrily continues his nutzoid rantings, defamation and harassment of us AND ‘Marie’. (He is regularly sending her sick, suggestive emails that are supposed to keep her in a state of terror.)

Just to give you an idea of what we are dealing with here: ‘Marie’ recently called the Police Captain in Toulouse to try and bring some sanity to the situation, but she was quickly brushed off with the excuse that the Captain was “very busy” with other investigations and “wire taps”. Are the Toulouse police ALSO listening in to our telephone conversations? If so, we hope they enjoy the details of our calls to the butcher, car workshop, the tree surgeon, the builder and the family members of those who work here. Maybe they’ll uncover some ‘thought crime’ “infractions”.

Within the last few months, ‘Marie’ and ‘Jean’s’ separation proceedings, which had been ongoing since 2010, were concluded. As part of these proceedings, the court had ordered a psychological report on both ‘Marie’ and ‘Jean’ and their children. The final report determined that ‘Marie’ was a very clever woman, unlikely to be manipulated, that the ‘cult’ accusation seemed absolutely unfounded, and that ‘Marie’ had worked hard/made greats efforts to free herself from his control. On the other hand, ‘Jean’ was described as having “obsessive tendencies” and was inclined to focus on false cult accusations to avoid taking responsibility for the failure of his relationship.

Now get this; this official psychological report was among the documentation that Juliana brought to the ‘interview’ with the Police Captain in Toulouse, the same documentation that the Police Captain had refused to look at in favor of trying to find out whether the ‘cult’ accusations of a man with “obsessive tendencies” (specifically related to “cult accusations”) were true or not. Excuse us if we get the impression that we have, by some magic, been transported into one of Franz Kafka’s more surreal worlds.

This is the same Captain who is happy to wait almost six months before even speaking to ‘Marie’, who has been determined to be psychologically sound and NOT easily manipulated and who, (along with us), has been accused by a man with “obsessive tendencies” (about cults), of being duped by a cult. Is that clear? Does it all make sense? Good. Now, can you explain it to us? Because we REALLY don’t get it. We REALLY can’t understand how it has come to pass that the police ‘doing their job’ involves them giving a free pass to the aggressor while interrogating the victim. Because that IS what is happening in this case. Of course, that takes us back to the idea that ‘Jean’ is just being used as a tool to break us and shut down all our activities. Paranoid? Maybe, but we keep it in our list of options.

At present we are continuing to deal with the situation in the best way we know how: by exposing the truth of the situation and continuing to network within the local and international community in an open and honest way. In that respect, there is one final piece of data that, we feel, is extremely pertinent.

When ‘Marie’ and ‘Jean’ first made contact with each other (via the internet) he made a rather long and disturbing ‘confession’ to her which contained details of events in his life up until that point. While such a ‘confession’ would and should normally remain confidential, any claims by ‘Jean’ to a right to privacy in this regard have been invalidated by the fact that he has chosen to infringe not only our right to privacy and to not be defamed, but the rights of ‘Marie’ and all those that he has directly and indirectly dragged into his hubris-laden vendetta.

So in light of the gravity of ‘Jean’s’ accusations and the potential damage such lies can do to our work, we have taken the decision to present pertinent excerpts from ‘Jean’s’ ‘confession’ to ‘Marie’. Please note that we do not take this step lightly and have consulted with our attorney as to the appropriateness of doing so. Rather, we feel that we have been given no choice in the matter and have been forced to take this step to defend ourselves against ‘Jean’s’ campaign of lies and defamation against us and his delusional statements to the police. Furthermore, we believe that the following details will help all parties interested in this case to better understand the type of mentality and rationale behind ‘Jean’s’ accusations, as well as the kinds of minds behind similar accusations. It will also highlight, once again, the burning question: the police in Toulouse actually take this guy seriously???

References to his adolescent years:“Then one night my body woke up, I was in a state! Probably assailed by a surge of hormones. I must have twisted and turned 300 times in bed, long, wide, across to the east, west, north, south … disorientated! I finally landed at the foot of the bed and woke up. While I was in a semi comatose state on the floor, following the noise of the fall, my mother arrived, and asked me if everything was OK. I have to say I did not know what had happened. And without explanation I went back to my bed. End of the experience.I still have that feeling of having experienced something uncontrollable and violent. Even though the nature of this event was not sexual, hairs do not start to grow and penis to stiffen just like that, out of the blue. Later, I must have tied everything together, unconsciously mixing it with the circumcision and other abuses. [...]

“I got the idea to put my penis into her mouth. At 3-4 years, she really couldn’t understand my intentions. It was difficult to attain my goal without raising any concern. Was I reproducing the same behaviour that I had experienced with my brother? I can not even say I had already ejaculated once in my life or felt the need to masturbate. It’s possible that I had asked my brother to do the same to me when we were together. There was no search for pleasure. I do not think I achieved my objective with my niece.”

“After that there was a period where I went on vacation with my cousins. We used to sleep with two children in the same bed. One day my cousins went on vacation with me. Again due to lack of beds, things happened … Of which, rather, I was the instigator. We had a big bed for three, me and my two cousins. And while we were probably just talking about our penises. Of course we probably wanted to understand some things, like between boys you risk nothing and blah, blah. I offered to give them the experience of fellatio. They refused … As for me, I was quite prepared. I was good enough for them. They were just younger than me and so it was smaller in my mouth, quite unconvincing. I did my best. But at our age, this little perversion had the appearance of an orgy.”

“At school, I could not stand the custom of pinching girls’ buttocks when boys more “mature” liked to harass the girls. I, on the contrary, could only offer my kindness and be recognized for it, and of course, it never led to any thing. Then I realized girls are neither sweet nor sensitive and that they are interested in boys for other reasons, reason that deep inside me, I could not admit to myself, because they were too ugly and dark, too aggressive.

“I had gradually developed all the techniques of masturbation. It begins with rubbing oneself against the sheets, noticing that it creates sensations. Then proceed to rubbing against the mattress. With more than obstinacy I would eventually start to bleed (the sheets are rough) and, there you are, spots appear, semen mixed with blood.”

To avoid visible stains, I discovered penetration between the box spring and the mattress. Blood, semen, everything went down there, and nobody had the idea to look there. Then in the bathroom … anal penetration with the shower head. My mother had a large pen too. It was used …”

Early adulthood:

“Again due to lack of beds, children were made to sleep with adults. I’m a nice guy, perceived as responsible, etc. So I was the one made to sleep with them. And my bed was large enough. It’s about [name redacted]. So … Sometimes you have nocturnal erections. I missed the presence of someone. [name redacted] was the one there, and I wanted to hold him tight. I must have been in a half-sleep state. But apparently [me holding him] prevented him from sleeping, and he was whining. I realized that I had erections and that my hug was a little too strong. I think this happened on two nights. I think I said to my mother that I did not want my nephew to sleep with me anymore, and that she should find another arrangement, or I took it upon myself. I can’t remember…”"My masturbatory techniques is still limited to the friction between the mattress and box spring. the nature of my surgery (done badly?) causing frequent bleeding. [...] My sister was there for a few days at my parents’. After all, I only had known incestuous relationships, and I could not get rid of this pressure to want to make love… I mean to finally have a relationship with a girl who would allow me to penetrate her.”"Whenever girls looked nicely at me or touched my hand, I would immediately become aloof, I would slip away. I struggled with myself to not let myself be reached by any of them. If the girl was pretty it was even harder to bear … I preferred the ugly ones, because at least they didn’t flutter their lashes. I could only speak with indifference. I turned off all music. I just had to ask. After all, women are like everybody else, or so they say. My sister has experience. That should suffice. I said: “I want to make love with you” – “I’d rather not” – “I’m sure it’ll make you happy” – “I have everything I need at home” – “Really?.”

“I was in an apartment in Toulouse. [...] I was not looking for sex dates on sex telephone [numbers]. I just wanted to make contacts … and it seemed to be the most protective solution, anonymity! Also because of this difficulty in reaching out to others. After staying logged all days and nights (the bills were heavy) I finally got the trust of many people…”

Later adulthood:

“After experiencing some economic problems I suggested to [name redacted] and his girlfriend that we live together in an apartment, we would share the costs. I was good friends with [name redacted], almost in love with him. I loved his girlfriend a little less.[...]At one point they wanted to introduce me to a girl, a friend of [name redacted] (girlfriend of [name redacted]). This took place on New Year’s Day. The evening went beautiful… she was more like an old woman than a girl. Ugh! In return, she got into my car. I began to stroke her pussy. She couldn’t stand it, poor thing! She really was into it. And it certainly was not the discussion we had had in the evening, when I had ignored her, which had left her defenceless. Once in my room, I penetrated her and she was saying : ‘ha ha ha it’s good’ – ‘ha ha ha, it’s been so long!’ I stopped right there. Not even wanting to finish the job. But saying: “you do not realize that we have absolutely nothing in common humpf humpf!”…. She asked: “so I should go away ?” – “Well yes, I think so” [I said].”‘Jane’ loved the sun, the beach, swimming. We went to Corsica because she wanted to. One afternoon while we went to town, suddenly she quarreled with me for a stupid reason. Maybe because I had responded with some derisory reflex like “Whatever!” She lashed out at me and tore my t-shirt, saying that I lied. Such scenes had already happened, but now it was taking on dramatic proportions. It looked like she was losing it… My first reactions to this kind of delirium was to slap her, for sure. [...]

It was during this time period that I started to visit whores.[...] The first one had soft skin; I had never imagined that anyone could have such soft skin with such beautiful breasts. Another gave me a blowjob in a special way, a technique using the tongue, which would be almost impossible to ask from a girl. There have been several such incidents including transvestites.”

“‘Jane’ had decided to come with me on a Saturday night to a nightclub that I was used to [going to].

The evening started at her mother’s place, she was not often there on weekends. I saw that ‘Jane’ was drinking more and more. I was worried for her, but I could not do anything about it. I thought we could love each other again. ‘Jane’ was teasing my friend a little; he was behaving stoically, acting as if he didn’t understand what was going on. We arrived at the night club located quite far from Toulouse but it went well. I think I told myself “Well, now I’ll leave ‘Jane’ alone”. I wanted her to feel how it is like to be a poor bitch in a place you do not know. [...]

Suddenly, I see ‘Jane’, who comes to me, kisses me and rather than stay, goes away. I find her sitting down, lost in her thoughts. I ask her if she wants to talk to me … she says no. I tell her that I want to talk to bring her outside, thinking that fresh air would do her good.

So, I do not know why, but she does not want to say anything, I want her to speak, I want her to explain why she just kissed me … We find ourselves between some cars, she wants me to release her, I do not want to, she is struggling, I try to control myself before it degenerates. I just want her to stop moving, I want her to answer me. I dragged her to the ground; I think it will be easier this way. “Confess; confess that you’re a whore! Confess!” [...]

When falling to the ground she must have hit a stone. An ambulance arrived for her, she’s was going through a hypoglycemic episode or something like that.

A few days later, still holding on like a madman, I see her again in a bus that I caught at the same time … I try to talk to her, I see that this time there are marks [on her]… she asks me to get off at the next stop.

I learned that a complaint had been filled against me about the [incident] I imagined that this time ‘Jane’s’ parents decided that it was better to be safe than sorry. Pff!, given how long it took, what they did was useless. Whatever. It was old history now and I had decided to deny it. The trial hearing necessitated my presence. I knew that if you do not bother going you are automatically judged to be guilty. It was a fine. I had to provide administrative papers, bank account information and then it was over.”

Take note of the above description of what appears to be an assault on this woman. We do not know if this is the first such event, but we know for sure that it was not the last. During the period immediately following ‘Marie’s’ decision to separate from ‘Jean’, ‘Marie’, a female friend of ‘Marie’s', ‘Jean’ and his mother were all in ‘Jean’s’ mother’s house together. ‘Marie’ and her friend had come to pick up the children who had been visiting ‘Jean’.

Here’s the account of what happened:

“He had me more or less cornered in a room with his mother. They started to try to provoke an argument with me, to prove that I was wrong regarding the children’s education, etc. After a few back-and-forth tirades, I said I just wanted to pick up the children and go, and asked if they would please let me out of the room. His mother had her hands on my wrists, and he stood there beside her, both circling me and preventing me from reaching the door. Then I called [my friend], who was waiting in another room, telling her that they were preventing me from leaving. My friend opened the door quickly (she didn’t say anything, she didn’t have time to), and that’s when ‘Jean’ went mad and attacked her, jumping at her throat. He was obviously not pleased that I had a friend there, especially this particular friend, who can’t stand ‘Jean’ after his horrible behavior and ‘customer service’ during the time he had a shop in town. My friend went to the hospital the next morning, and the doctor reported several bruises and red marks around her neck.”

It should be noted here that the friend filed a formal complaint, and nothing was done about it!

 

Continuing with ‘Jean’s’ ‘confession’:

“My work contract was extended and the low cost housing office got me a decent and inexpensive small apartment, well arranged with separate kitchen and bath (I like bath tubs). That’s where I discovered the virtues of soap in masturbation, and the effect of the corner of the sink. It is not easy to explain but it is about placing the crotch over the corner of the basin. You have to add a little soap which allows rubbing on the rim. It increases the sensations in the lower abdomen, like an anal fingering. Also I liked to install a mirror to see the whole thing. Soon, I missed being in contact with someone and I started looking where the hookers were in Angouleme. And even in other cities around. In fact the only ones found in the exterior were transvestites. When I brought one particular one in my car, we went to an isolated place, he gave me a blowjob and against all odds I asked him if now I could give him a blowjob, he agreed and I did it. In the end he told me I sucked well. I was a little proud! It was the only thing a bit extravagant that we could do in the area.”As far as women are concerned it was simple, they were putting ads in the newspaper. It’s strange to realise the state in which those ads put me … I tried to convince myself that it was not worth the trouble, after all that nothing would change … and then I had the idea that I am worthless, I am not even capable of having someone by my side, I don’t even know if I’ll be able to have sex with this prostitute. After all, it doesn’t matter with a whore, if I don’t do it right. Moreover, some of them told me “oh well, you really wanted it” But whatever, “I don’t come to see you just because I love sex”. I think I visited them all one after the other, when I knew enough about them I didn’t go back to them.One of them was particularly interesting [...] She was not very young. She welcomed me and brought me to the bathroom to wash my sex, which she did with her own hands. Then she gave me a massage with her whole body by lying on me. She suggested we watch porn videos as an accompaniment. I did not want to. Then she asked for the position I wanted. I said “you on me.” And then it was too strange. she was completely dilated and lubricated and went all the way through, [...] she was like a giant aquatic vacuum. I held 2 minutes … I only told her that it was good that I did not want any more. You have to pay in advance. She practiced sodomy but it was too expensive, but I regretted it a bit because, after all that, I’ve never sodomized a woman.”

“One night I had a dream, I woke up struggling, I was kicking all over the place and hit [name redacted] several times. It bothered me greatly. I was afraid that I would attack her for no reason. It was indeed a fear inside me, something that made me feel very guilty. I was afraid to be taken one more time by a violent frenzy. I dreamed that a huge snake was wrapped around me and was inexorably choking me, choking me, choking me. I struggled and it took me out of the nightmare. Immediately I woke up I was worried whether I had hurt [name redacted], I apologised as if I had hit her, and it was exactly the impression I had. Inwardly I told myself I cannot stay with her, I’m too dangerous. There will come a time when I will be able to control myself and then, anyway, what am I getting from her? She doesn’t fuck! During the night I want to take her but she turns her back on me. She sleeps. She sleeps like a 5 year old baby and she never jumps on me, not that she ever did. At one time I tried to sodomize her, but I definitely must be missing something. How do you do that anyway? “What are trying to do?” she used to say to me, half asleep. Then she would turn away and sleep. “And what about me?! But shit!” I wanted to do it! And this snake which had prevented me from breathing, what did it mean?”

I was a bit tired of all this mess including some of my borderline behaviors. Like the girl I that I followed to her place, and who begged me to stop this nonsense. Or the one who asked me one night to drive her back to her place. At one point I slipped my hand on her knee and obviously she became hostile. There was even this girl who seemed interested, while we were talking I told her that I was beating my wife and that in addition she liked it and that I was proud of it. I must have said something like that, I’m sure. A good way to say “fuck off little bimbo!” Isn’t it? I needed stability, I thought.

“Since the time I worked in this company, having the keys of the offices, I got used to masturbating in the company premises. A kind of repressed exhibitionist desire in a public place where I found myself secretly.”

“I felt bad, sexual obsessions … even stronger. Even though in a couple, I do not really tend towards excessive sexual misbehavior. Surely this split brought up those kinds of questions, destabilizing me deeply. My relationship with ‘Jane’ led me inexorably, as always, towards the slippery slope.”

“But I kept trying to get information about ‘Jane’. I would call her friends to get news indirectly. She worked in Paris, lived at her grandfather’s. So I went to this district, I had the addresses … you never know. Then I got someone to call her father to have her home address. [...] She did not want to talk to me, or see me. That is clear. I must have been taken by one of my pathological state, again … I took the car and drove to her place, in fact not very far south of Paris, I considered this event as one of those coincidences that one can’t ignore. I rang. Said I wanted to see ‘Jane’. Her boyfriend went out and talked to me, so I spoke to him. I must have said a lot of incoherent stuff. I got the idea to warn him that ‘Jane’ was not someone easy to understand or to live with. That he must be wary of her or whatever …”

“One night a guy phoned from Melun (Seine-et-Marne). He claimed to be the boyfriend of ‘Jane’, his girl was hurt because of me, and he does not know what to do!”. I reassured my mother on this subject, pointing out that I was not in contact with them, I had no intention of doing so and that it would eventually subside.

“In the agency where I worked a young girl arrived. Long black hair and incredible white skin! [...] I started fantasizing; I do not know … I didn’t know how to act. I tried to invite her to dinner, to the movies, but she refused. To talk about music, but she loved the Rolling Stones and REM. She was really stupid!

During one more delusional episode, I went to her home on a Sunday and waited. In the late afternoon I saw her go home in the company of another girl. I decided to ring. Nobody answered. On Monday, she reported that she had seen me, reproached me for not having warned. I pretended that I had come just for a coffee, something like that. In fact I think she was dyke.

Subsequently, I did some interim job, freelance missions, and I started to discover the Internet, it was in turmoil. Internet Explorer did not exist! Just Netscape 1 or 2 and other Web services: news forums, IRC. Withdrawal into myself was even stronger. I realized that I could only trust myself, that everything I had wanted I owed to nobody. Within months I was going to learn a new job: Web site creation. And I was determined to become well-known in this area.”

“I went to prostitutes once or twice. But what was enough, most of the time, was to roam the streets at night to see these girls or these trannies and go home without taking any. I also listened to erotic phone line or the pornographic free advertising. Sometimes I tried to call. Most of the time lines were off the hook.

For some ads, in fact, the girl sends dirty pictures of herself (you’re never sure if it’s her). I masturbated watching these pictures and after a while I threw them away. If you pay you can get more photos … During a call, I met a girl who for a modest sum offered me to go to her place. It was in the suburbs. I went … It was a house, her boyfriend was there. They were apparently unemployed, they seemed be outcasts, they listened to U2. The guy seemed lost in some smoke delirium. He went out. While we were in the room, the girl explained that her boyfriend had a problem and he could not satisfy her, they had inherited the house but they were broke. This is all. I took her twice”

“I hated weekends deeply, actually I hated everything. In Angouleme I had started doing something, which was to search for a girl’s number in the directory and then call them and insult them. Like “you want to get fucked?” “you wet bitch!” I wasn’t usually very creative.

In those days, I called at random. Later I was looking for any girl called ‘Jane’. As soon as I found a ‘Jane’, I had to call, I could not help myself. Then I insulted her as much as I could, repeatedly. Until I felt better. “You want to get fucked, huh you love it!”. [...] Then began the exploration of the underbelly of the Internet .”

“Sometimes out of necessity, in order to be reassured about my manhood, I would go to Paris. In those districts, which are populated, in the nighttime hours, by ladies in negligee. This time it was in the place de l’Etoile district, where the luxury whores work. Just to have a look. I left the car, wanting to inquire more closely about the appearance and the price.

Mature women were asking for 1200 francs for one time in an apartment or in a parking lot. They put comments like ” I suck well ” or “you will get your money’s worth” Well, more than 1,000 francs was out of my reach. I said “I’ll think about it” not to offend.

In one of the main streets, a tall and remarkable young blonde is standing, she’s young enough. I ask for her price. I hear 500 Frs! I’m surprised and I say ok! Then the girl brings me in a Mercedes driven by another woman dressed for the occasion who takes a route that seems complicated to me. The events seem exaggerated compared to the usual. In these situations I’m not talkative.

Here we are, we reached the apartment. It is at the moment of paying that I understand that there is a misunderstanding … on the price to pay. 1500 frs! Now I want to leave, I say I’m surprised. I try to get out of this situation. The blonde is a kind of bimbo with breasts like melons; the old one seems to be one of those tough matrons that you never joke with… She goes to an adjacent room, apparently there are other people in the apartment and I had better find a solution quickly or things will get worse. The woman makes several threats, the bimbo claims I must deserve breasts like hers!

They realise that I have no money on me, never mind. We’ll go to the nearest cash machine to get the money. The two stay close to me, no point in trying to escape. The first ATM does not allow me to get the desired amount. Never mind there are other ATMs. There’s not much money on my account, the computer knows it and therefore it limits the withdrawal. But as so often in a short time interval, you can cheat by quickly going from one ATM to another one.

I am intimately led to another ATM, the two ladies are euphoric, I take much more money than needed. They finally got 2000 francs in no time at all. The old one tells me that I will not be disappointed and that now they will take good care of me. These two make me more afraid than they make me want to fuck them. The older one who commands the operation would scare a kid. The sexy one has an intellectual level comparable to a laundromat.

Back to the apartment, the bimbo makes a strip tease and in no time the old one equips me with a condom and starts oral sex. Finally the blonde stuck to my back does not do much. The old one, with a few comments on my virility, works greedily on my penis. I tell myself I’m going to come in her mouth as soon as possible so I can leave without asking for the rest. Curiously, for once I find that everything takes too long. Come on! Ejaculate and let’s not talk about it anymore. Fortunately everything comes to an end. They finally drive me back, without more problems I find my car. After this, I am determined not to fall again in such a trap. I’m broke. It’ll be very difficult to repair this financial blunder. I’ve the feeling I got fucked!

No longer able to pay my rent, feeling a catastrophe becomes inevitable I switch to Cathy. After considerable discussions by email, she eventually calls me. Soon after, she invited me over for my birthday. I saw her, I didn’t like her at all. But I would make an effort. Hey there! I started living at her place at the end of ’96. [...] One day she proposed marriage, despite having always imagined that I didn’t want to stay with her for my whole life. I agreed, a bit because of curiosity, a lot because of weakness. [...] On Sundays, she attended a cult’s sessions. I was masturbating in the garden! a little soap and water is always essential. It was not original, but it was cool!”

The above statements, together with all of the defamatory attacks that ‘Jean’ has made against us on the internet, paint a picture of a very disturbed and potentially violent individual who, being unable to accept responsibility for his part in his former partner’s decision to separate from him, chose to project the blame and vent his anger elsewhere. ‘Elsewhere’ in this case, just happened to be us.

Keep in mind that, while this was styled as a ‘confession’ by ‘Jean’, it was equally an attempt by him to ‘woo’ ‘Marie’. In this case, we have to wonder just how many other, more incriminating, details he held back in the interest of putting forward his best face.

‘Jean’s’ full ‘confession’ can be read here.

For those who find it difficult to understand how, after reading these details, any woman could have thought that hooking up with ‘Jean’ was a good idea, please read ‘Marie’s’ testimony where she explains why she ‘took the bait’.

As it stands today, we have received no assistance whatsoever in dealing with the very real crimes of ‘Jean’. Instead, we have been stonewalled at every turn, delayed, put off, lied to, and more. The worst thing about this situation is that a truly insane man is running around out there with access to two innocent children, and the French legal system has done nothing to protect them.

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L’histoire secrète de Jean

Nous sommes actuellement attaqués et diffamés publiquement par un certain individu qui vit au sein de notre communauté locale. Pour l’instant, nous l’appellerons « Jean ». La campagne de haine de « Jean » à notre encontre a commencé à l’automne 2010 et a depuis atteint des proportions extrêmes.

« Jean » a porté de fausses accusations contre nous au tribunal, dans le cadre de la bataille pour la garde des enfants, accusant Laura Knight-Jadczyk de diriger une « secte » et d’exercer une influence disproportionnée sur son ex-compagne (que nous appellerons « Marie »), la poussant à se séparer de lui. Cela est complètement faux à tous les égards. Le fait est que « Jean », de son propre aveu (documenté ci-dessous), a un passé marqué par la perversion sexuelle, le harcèlement des femmes et la violence. C’est pour ces raisons que « Marie » a décidé de mettre un terme à sa relation avec lui.

« Marie » a reçu un soutien émotionnel et des conseils pratiques de la part d’un groupe d’amies qui incluent Laura Knight-Jadczyk. « Jean » a volé le contenu de l’ordinateur portable de « Marie » et a lu ces conseils fournis par ses amies. « Jean » a alors commencé une campagne de haine abjecte à contre Laura Knight-Jadczyk, son mari, ses collègues et amis, afin de se venger et également de tenter de forcer « Marie » à se réconcilier avec lui.

Ce qui suit est une « confession » écrite par Jean à Marie en 2002,
alors qu’il avait à peu près 35 ans et elle 23 ans. Tous les noms des
autres protagonistes dans cette « confession » ont été effacés ou
changés. Nous rendons cela public (avec les noms changés) dans un effort
d’exposer la vérité concernant la nature des accusations portées par « Jean » contre nous.

Avertissement au lecteur : la « confession » que vous êtes sur le point de lire contient plusieurs descriptions extrémement dérangeantes de comportements pathologiques. Nous estimons qu’il est important de lire le document attentivement, dans son entier, car il fournit un bon exemple du paysage intérieur, de l’esprit d’un individu pathologique.

Pour lire les détails complets concernant la campagne de diffamation de « Jean », vous pouvez visiter ce lien.

Pour lire le récit de « Marie » et tout ce qu’elle a dû endurer avec « Jean », vous pouvez lire son témoignage ici.

*** Conscience ***

ou ma vie affective de merde.

Évidement que je me sens coupable. Entendu ! je ne puis être que mon propre avocat. Je n’ai pas de doute sur ce que j’ai fait comme gâchis tout ma vie. Je ne suis peut-être pas responsable de tout, mais je suis conscient et donc condamnable.

Cela commence jeune avec le premier éveil érotique. Ma mère a toujours cette sotte habitude de me faire dormir avec d’autres enfants … le manque de chambre, le manque de lit, le manque de quoi au juste ?

 

J’étais amoureux de ma cousine, un soir ou la famille était là…  je lui avait demande de descendre je suppose qu’avec ces 15/16 ans il ne n’imaginait pas ce que se produisait dans l’esprit d’un garçon de 9/10 ans. Je voulais l’embrasser. je me suis soulever pour atteindre sa bouche. Et elle m’as juste indiqué que cela n’était pas possible. Fin de la séance.

 

Mon frère, qui vers mes 11 ans était en pension en semaine. Laissait traîné des BD porno. Des dessins en noir et blanc à l’anatomie caricaturale. Des scènes de prise sans nuances, etc. etc. je ne pense pas que j’était pubère a cette époque là. Un jour ma mère m’a surpris avec ce bouquin que j’avais tenté de camouflé et m’as interdit de “lire” ceci ; sans autre commentaires. Ce genre d’ouvrages disparurent de mon environnement

 

Ma soeur plus âgée, devait déjà connaître ces premières fugues, des histoires dont je ne connaissait ni la raison, ni le sens, sauf qu’elle provoquait un immense remue-ménage, mes parents dans un concert tonitruant, s’enfermait dans la chambre de ma soeur avec elle pour des explications interminables. Avec le temps un ouvrage “scientifiques” sur les systèmes de reproduction fit son apparition, celui-ci autorisé non officiellement puisque destiné à ma frangine.

 

Puis une nuit mon corps c’est réveillé, j’était dans un état ! sûrement assailli pour un déferlement d’hormones. J’ai du tourné 300 fois dans le lit, en long, en large, en travers, vers l’est, vers l’ouest, vers le nord, vers le sud… déboussolé !

J’ai finit par atterrir au pied du lit et me réveiller. Alors que j’étais au sol a demi comateux, suite au bruit de la chute ma mère est arrivé, m’as demandé si cela allait. J’ai du dire que je ne savais pas ce qui m’était arrivé. Et sans explications j’ai regagné mes draps. Fin de l’expérience.

J’ai encore aujourd’hui cette impression d’avoir vécu quelque chose d’incontrôlable et violent.

Même si cet événement n’a aucun caractère sexuel, les poils ne se mettent pas a pousser illico, le sexe à se raidir subito. Par la suite j’ai dû tout lier, tout mélanger inconsciement avec l’incision du prépuce et les autres abus.

 

Finalement ma sœeur fut en enceinte, il y eut mariage, le couple s’installa juste dans l’appartement au-dessus du familial. Ma sœur était jeune 17/18 ans, son mari plus âgé. C’était un gars blond issu de l’assistance publique, un nom de famille a sonorité Italienne. On me jugeait même plus mur que lui… On était dans les années 70 cheveux long et pats’ d’ephts.

 

Évidement j’était toujours là, celui qui accompagne, qui assiste, qui voit comment ça se passe. Sans droits.

J’était là après l’accouchement, une petite fille qui s’appela [prénom effacé]. Voir ses yeux encore aveugle, et sa petite main saisir mon index et serrer ses doigts parfaitement repliés les uns a coté des autres.

J’avais rêver parfois que je souhaitait une petite soeur, elle s’appellerait [prénom effacé], pour m’occuper d’elle, la cajoler.

J’adorait [prénom effacé], m’amuser avec elle. Et puis ma soeur avait été aussi comme ça avec moi, tout cela était très naturel.

Mais parfois sa chiait au dessus le balai ne traquait pas que la poussière, scène de…

Bah, l’insouciance était plutôt mienne, il y avait les camarades de mon âge pour aller jouer dans le quartier.

Surtout mon copain [prénom effacé], il habitait justement au-dessus précédemment, mais il avait déménagé pas très loin.

Il avait un an de moins que moi, mais était plus grand et plus fort. On passait d’excellent après-midi ensemble avec son petit frère [prénom effacé]. Je les adorait, jamais nous nous sommes disputé, jamais il n’y eu autre chose que de l’harmonie.

Sa mère était une belle brune qui au fil du temps ma semblé être bien plus que généreuse et douce mais aussi chaude… Parfois je regardait le lit conjugal dans le cadre de la porte avant d’aller dans la chambre de mon copain. Nous étions toujours chez lui au dehors par beau temps, jamais chez moi.

 

Il y avait d’autres gosses pour jouer, aux cabanes à je sais ne plus quoi d’autre. [prénom effacé] et son frère qui pleurait tout le temps (leur mère était une hystérique qui buvait toute la journée une fois elle avait fait une crise d’épilepsie dans les escalier de l’immeuble). [prénom effacé], la petite grosse, elles avait deux grands frères, son père était gendarme comme le mien, (il n’y avait pas assez de place à la caserne pour les familles, alors on logeaient en ville).

Puis d’autres dont je ne me rappelle plus les noms.

Le temps passait, l’oeil sur les adultes qui se disputent ou viennent nous engueuler parce que ceci ou cela.

Le terrain d’a côté était toujours avec des herbes hautes, pour se cacher c’était l’idéal.  Et c’était toujours triste lorsque quelque adultes se décidait a tout couper… Mais ça repoussait et c’était bien.

J’était avec [prénom effacé], et je ne sais comment, nous sommes tombés tout deux… hum, sûrement on se chamaillait une pierre on un bout de bois. Dans la renverse elle c’est retrouvée coincée sous moi. On ne devait avoir que deux trois ans de différence. Je l’ai regardé dans les yeux, cela ressemblait a un film de cinéma. Ou après un instant de flottement le mec embrasse la nana. Il me semble que nous étions parfaitement l’un contre l’autre et que tout s’épousait a merveille. Je ne sais réellement mais pour reconstituer la scène je lui tiendrait les poignets perdus dans l’herbe mi-haute. Elle ne se débat pas, me regarde juste dans les yeux voyant sûrement aussi les mêmes films que moi, offerte a un baiser ? elle attends mon verdict.

Je suppose qu’un garçon normalement constitué même de 10 ans aurait suivi le scénario du film. Même a se prendre une tarte, après tout c’est parfois aussi comme ça au cinéma.

J’ai relâché, gêné et absent… On pourrait peut-être voir ça dans les films français.

 

Mais d’un autre côté jusque là tout va bien, rien de réellement dramatique … je connais même mes premiers émois amoureux. Des anecdotes pourraient illustrés cela. Je ne fuyait pas les filles, peut-être parce que la distinction ne se faisait pas claire. A l’occasion de jeux entre enfants j’avais trouvé une gamine à mon goût. Je venais ç peine d’apprendre à faire du vélo, j’étais déjà un petit garçon autonome. A la fin de la journée j’avais proposé de la raccompagner sur nos bicyclettes, seullement je n’avais pas l’autorisation de dépasser un certain périmétre. Ah les interdictions de ma mère comme je les respectais ! Tout la tristesse de l’affaire étant que quelques temps plus tard l’ayant croiser dans la cour de l’école elle ne voulu pas me reconnaître. Je la trouvait d’une mauvaise foi incroyable. J’ai commencé à m’inquiété au sujet des filles. Je devenait au fil du temps extrémement timide. En vacances si je devenait camarade avec une fille de mon âge complétement bloqué. Je sentais une pression s’installer et des sentiments que je ne pouvais exprimer simplement. Par des bisous où autre, par un naturel. Surtout si sous l’oeil des adultes. Nous observant, ils formulaient avec leurs mots la relation. Ceci me faisait immanquablement rougir.

 

Parfois je gardai les petits,ma sœur avait eu un autre enfant… [prénom effacé], à cause de [un chanteur connu] (Ma soeur a toujours été moyenne dans le choix des prénoms).

Le problème n’est pas de savoir ça qui me prit à cet instant. Entre moi et [prénom effacé] il y a dix ans de différence, très précisément puisque elle est Balance aussi. Ce qui veux dire que nous avons été conçus pendant les fêtes de fin d’années ou peu après. A quel taux d’alcoolémie exactement je ne sais pas.

Aujourd’hui elle vient d’avoir un bébé, elle vit depuis un bon bout de temps avec un musicien/maçon (ah, tu vois !), [prénom effacé]. Ils se sont retapés une maison dans la campagne du Tarn et Garonne… Son instrument la basse, le genre Métal.

Des gens vraiment sociable, pas comme moi, on parle musique sans problème. Cela fait très longtemps que je ne les aies vu.

C’est que ma nièce et mon neveu, je les ai inspiré musicalement très tôt (pff, mon rôle doit être minime) lorsque je les emmenait en voiture, il y a 10 ans et plus et qu’ils se chamaillaient à l’arrière. Je mettais juste la musique à fond. Ils râlaient parce que l’on ne s’entendaient plus, c’était radical, ils se calmaient.

Bah, Cathie me raconta que ses parents, dans ces cas là, les laissaient, elle et sa soeur, sur le bord de la route.

Et qu’ils durent entamer une thérapie contre ce genre d’attitude extrême.

Me vint l’idée de lui mettre mon sexe dans la bouche. A 3/4 ans elle ne voyait vraiment pas où je voulais en venir.

C’était compliqué d’obtenir le phénomène sans donner d’inquiétude. Que je reproduisait ce que je connaissait par mon frère? Je ne puis même pas dire que j’avais déjà éjaculé ou éprouvé le besoin de me masturber. Possible que j’eu demandé a mon frère d’au moins me faire le même chose lorsque nous étions ensemble. Il n’y avait pas de recherche d’un plaisir. Je ne pense pas être arrivé a mes fins avec ma nièce… Je ne sais plus. Puis ma mère devait être pas loin, il me semble qu’elle est intervenue, c’est aperçue de quelque chose. Je crois pas que j’en savais plus sur la question. Cela ne s’est ni reproduit ni n’aurait pu s’étendre sur autre chose.

 

Il y eu par la suite toute une époque où je me rendait en vacances chez mes cousins. Nous avions l’habitude de dormir à deux dans un lit.

Un jour ils vinrent en vacances chez moi. Là aussi par manque de lits des choses se produisirent… Où bien entendu j’étais l’instigateur. Nous avions un grand lit pour trois, Moi et mes deux cousins.  Et alors que l’on devait juste parlé de notre zizi. On cherche forcément à comprendre certaines choses, genre entre garçon on ne risque rien, et blah et blah. J’ai proposé d’expérimenté la fellation. Ils refusèrent… Tant que moi j’étais tout disposé. Je fis leur affaire. Ils étaient juste un plus jeunes que moi et c’était plus petit en bouche, assez peu convainquant. Je fis de mon mieux.

Mais à nos âges, ce peu de perversion avait l’apparence de l’orgie.

 

Jamais par la suite je n’ai demandé a une fille de me faire quoi que ce soit ou de m’accorder une préférence. Enfant et jusqu’à une certaine adolescence pour moi une fille c’était la douceur, la compréhension, la délicatesse, la sensibilité… Que l’amour était une sorte d’attachement par une chose indistincte et poétique et bien que comprenant que c’était techniquement lié au sexe… Mais cela n’était pas indispensable.

A l’école, je ne supportait pas la coutume du pincement de fesses où les garçons plus “mûrs” se plaisaient à harcéler les filles. Tandis que moi je ne pouvais donner que ma gentillesse et être reconnu pour cela et forcément cela n’avait aucun effet secondaire.

Alors je me suis aperçu qu’elles ne sont ni douces, ni sensibles et qu’elles s’intéressent aux garçons pour d’autres raisons que dans mon fors intérieur je ne pouvais dévoilé car trop moches et noires, trop agressives. Je m’inhibait et petit à petit de plus en plus.

Bien sur je ne peux pas dire d’un bloc que toutes les filles ne s’intéresse qu’à un seul aspect d’un mec ; c’est un tout. Mais je pense qu’elles se conforme a un certain type de sollicitations. Et tous doivent évolués avec ce terreau périmé, tant bien que mal. Les uns qui sont le moins favorisés, regardent les amours des autres.

Je préférais la compagnie des mals à l’aise, des pas beaux, des coincés.

Voilà peut-être pourquoi je n’ai jamais supporté les gens de mon âge, ils toujours plus complet que je ne pouvais l’être.

Un jour je fut surpris, en classe de 6ième. Car un éleve avait amené une photo de classe du CM1, Et la prof de Français s’exclamat : “Mais qui est ce mignon petit garçon !” Et c’était moi ! Elle en fut surprise, moi tout autant. Faut dire que je devais être un pré-adolescent boutonneux, angoissé et inexpressif.

 

Je ne pense pas qu’il y ait des caractéristiques féminines ou masculines, la douceur pour les uns la virilité pour les autres. Je n’ai d’ailleurs jamais pensé que l’on devait faire avec ça. Mais on voit de tout.

 

Puis mon frère connût sa femme. Une caserne toute neuve avait été construite et toutes les familles de gendarme était logées là… J’avais peu a peu mis au point toute les techniques de la masturbation. Ça commence par les frottement contre le draps en s’apercevant que ceux ci créent des sensations. Puis on passe au frottement contre le matelas. Avec plus d’obstination cela finit par allez jusqu’au sang (le drap c’est rugueux) Oui voilà, les taches apparaissent sperme mélangé au sang. Mon opération de chirurgie fut encore une fois conséquente car elle ne me permit pas de découvrir une activité non blessante.

Pour éviter les tâches visibles je découvrir la pénétration entre le sommier et le matelas. Sang sperme tout y allait.

Et personne ne regardait a cet endroit là.

Puis dans la salle de bain … pénétration anale du pommeau de douche et ensuite ma mère avait un gros stylo. Il fut utilisé… Je me suis beaucoup inquiété sur mon orientation. Mes relations avec les filles était inexistantes. Je les fuyaient même.

Je ne pense pas que j’étais considéré comme quelqu’un de sympathique, vu de loin.

 

[Surnom effacé] pour [prénom effacé], c’était la femme de mon frère… je m’entendais bien avec elle à mes 16 ans. Ils venaient de s’installer dans une petite maison, Cela avait fait toute une histoire plus tard car ils étaient passé en appartement. Et mon frère voulait une maison. Pff, sa femme m’avait demandé mon avis alors, j’avais dit si mon frère veux une maison laisse le faire. Sûrement la plus mauvaise idée que j’ai jamais eu. Car finalement ils ont divorcé peu de temps après.

Bah, toujours pareil j’était jugé plus mûr que mon frère, plus posé, plus… plus toutes ces conneries. Plus sage ? Que pouvais-je comprendre des intérêts matériels d’un couple, de leur non importance.

Pour revenir au tout début de la chronologie de ce passage. Lors d’un des premiers repas de famille que nous partagions dans leur petite maison. Sûrement il y eu des propos graveleux. J’avais chaud, je focalisait sur elle, j’étais dans tout mes états… J’ai éprouvé une besoin irrépréhensible et violent de sortir, j’ai demandé où était les toilettes. Pour … mon absence prolongée fut remarquée.

fin de l’épisode

 

Je n’avais aucun contact avec les autres, c’était plus une question d’âge, seule la compagnie d’enfants plus jeunes me convenait, on se voyait à l’extérieur, mais je restait la plupart du temps chez moi. Avec eux rien de fâcheux.

A cet âge là j’aurai du aller en ville, dans les cafés, etc… [prénom effacé], la cousine que j’avais voulu embrassé était venue travailler dans ma ville. J’allai chez elle, je m’y sentais bien… On pouvait parler passer un moment et puis c’est tout… Soudain, sans savoir pourquoi ma Mère m’as interdit de m’y rendre… C’est vrai, elle avait la réputation d’être délurée. Et alors ! Tant de protection. Est-ce mieux ?

 

Alors c’était l’ennui, j’allait à la cave j’y passait mon temps pour bricoler, c’était un bon endroit pour être tout seul. je m’y masturbait sur une photo de Maryline Monroe, elle prenait bien.

Je surveillait les allées venues, [prénom effacé] (la petite grosse) est descendue pour chercher quelque chose dans sa cave qui était juste a côté – elle avait eu quelques formes depuis. N’était pas du genre sociale, je me sens pas un cas à part. J’ai essayer de lui demandé si elle voulait… m’embrasser, voir plus. Je crois qu’elle est repartie tout de suite sans prendre ce qui lui manquait. Bah, vu que sa mère était catho à fond, je pense même que cela a du se savoir. Ensuite ma situation restera a ce niveau là longtemps.

 

Il y eu le lycée où j’étais en pension, au moins j’ai commencé à être confronté quotidiennement, jour et nuit, avec ma génération. Je dois dire qu’il y avait de ces cas à pathologies obsessionnelles grave. Ce retrouver dans un lycée professionnel c’était cotoyé tout les absents des études, les branleurs, les émancipés, les attardés, les filous, tout le malaise d’une génération puissance 10. C’est là que j’ai appris qu’il fallait se battre… des batailles sournoises et mesquines où pour te faire un copain faut s’être mis sur la gueule avant, un langage de voyous, de rues. Mais je restait fondamentalement un gars réservé, les sympathies de groupes restaient naturelle… Je me suis rendu compte que j’était pas si bête que ca que j’avais finalement un goût suffisament prononcé pour les études. Je brillait plus dans les matières théoriques que pratiques, n’était pas un manuel naturel. Mais faire des choses concrètes était aussi très constructeur de la pensée, du sens des choses. Des CAP et des BEP techniques s’obtenait dans cet établissement et il y avait peu de filles. Certains avait des copines dans leur ville d’origine, je voyait tout cela très narquoisement. Le mercredi il n’y avait pas cours, on allait à la supérette du coin, dérober chocolats, biscuits… On sortait de là, les blousons remplit de bouffe, en passant à la caisse pour payer une peccadille. On allait dans la campagne avoisinante pour consommer nos larcins. C’était une petite ville de province et la gent féminine était sous représentée. Nous nous étions livrés plusieurs fois a des séances de masturbation de groupes (sans mélange).

 

Certains camardes étaient tout de même assez à l’aise avec les filles, pendant le week end nous nous voyions souvent, me déplaçant à mobylette j’allai à Montauban, The big City. Un copain qui s’appelait [prénom effacé] sortait avec une fille qui s’appelait [prénom effacé]. [Prénom effacé] fut mon premier mentor musical, les derniers groupes de Hard, led Zep, AC DC, Angel City, puis les premiers groupes punks, Clash, Siouxie and The Banshees, puis la new wave naissante, Jacno, Visage. j’éprouvait quelque chose d’assez fort pour lui. Il avait l’assurance, la force, la sérénité. Ma mère bien sur ne voulait pas que je les fréquente lui et 2 ou 3 autres. C’est vrai que je commençait a en avoir marre et a me rebiffer. Forcément comme je ne pouvais pas m’en prendre à ma mère… je me battais avec mon père.

Un été, [prénom effacé] et ses copains eurent la fameuse idée d’aller se baigner dans un lac (une grosse mare)

Ils avaient décidé la soeur d’un de ses copain à venir avec ses copines. Toute l’après-midi ce fut se stupide jeu de bataille d’eau, a que je te met la tête sous l’eau et tu dois te défendre… Principalement orienté contre les filles … Qui s’y pliaient sûrement… Sais pas juste le désir de toucher sûrement, sans y voir malice, dans les rires et la bonne humeur générale… je trouvais cela insupportable. On a du essayer de me faire participer mais en vain.

A la fin, lorsque tout le monde fut décider a repartir. Sur le chemin du retour vers d’autres activités. Je m’avisait et rentrait chez moi.

Le lundi au lycée, ma fuite fut l’objet de questions auxquelles je ne put répondre.

Il y eu une fille qui s’appelait [prénom effacé], elle ne tourna autour un temps, me disant que je sentais bon (Ma mère mettais de la soupline dans la lessive), j’ai pensé que c’était un argument de fille assez vaseux. je restait muet et stoïque, ce qui ne fut pas d’une grande utilité pour elle… donc elle changît son fusil d’épaule bien vite et se désintéressa de ce que j’avais rien à dire.

 

Je devais passer trois ans dans ce lycée. Systématiquement on passait de bleusailles se faissant chahuter par la plus âgés à plus âgés qui chahuteraient les bleusailles.

A mi-parcours, une nouvelle recrues dans ma classe fit son apparition – Celui-ci venait de se faire renvoyé d’un autre lycée. Dés le débu, je ne le sentis pas bien. Il était trop à l’aise pour quelqu’un qui avait soi-disant tenté de se suicider. Mais ceci parut impressionner [prénom effacé] et ils furent immédiatement amis. Je suivit le mouvement mais j’étais jaloux. Ils accaparait l’amitié que j’avais eu avec [prénom effacé] Je me suis alors renfermé, je tentais de ne pas laisser prise à mes sentiments. Eux ne comprennant en rien les méandres de mon état, se moquèrent de moi parfois.

J’esayait de ne rien montrer.

 

Ils organisèrent un réveillon, déjà j’eu du mal a faire accepter mes parents de m’y rendre … J’avais l’obligation de me faire déposer et reprendre le lendemain… Lors de la soirée il fallut faire subir des gages aux filles présentes, alors que les uns demandait un baiser. Je ne me suis seulement permis  de demander a celle qui m’était quasiment désigné, tout les couples étant formé, de lui embrasser le pied nu. Avec le recul plutôt un signe de soumission que de virilité… Bien entendu les gars se moquèrent de moi.

 

17 ans, je change de lycée, pour ce nouvel établissement j’avais plusieurs heures de train, je devait partir le dimanche soir pour passer la nuit dans les trains et les gares… C’était vraiment a Perpete-les-Oies en Corrèze. Quel fichu pays de merde. Là j’étais taciturne et claustré, dans un état d’autisme avancé. Certains était déjà des “hommes” c’est à dire du genre a prendre plaisir a faire subir des brimades… d’autres plus murs choisissait tout de même le camp des plus forts.

Ce fut vraiment une année horrible ou a aucun moment je ne pu trouver le moyen de me défendre sans entrer a un moment ou une autre dans une confrontation.

La répartition filles/garçons existait dans ce lycée mais pas dans notre classe.

Il y avait une jeune fille que tous appelait “puce” elle avait l’air d’un princesse, la douceur même. La croiser dans un couloir était ma hantise et en même temps je calait mon pas ou cherchait du regard lorsque je savais qu’elle pourrait être à tel endroit en fonction des horaires.. après le cours de ceci elle était dans la classe a côté. Après le cours de cela je pourrais pendant un instant marcher a ces côtés l’air de rien.

Mais jamais je n’aurait ouvert la bouche pour émettre un bruit que j’aurai su disgracieux à ses oreilles. Et puis j’aillait pas me mettre en pâture aux autres qui m’aurait moqué … Jean qui s’intéresse à une fille et en plus la plus belle !

Tout ce que je pouvais faire c’était observer. Je me rappelle parfaitement un mercredi morne, jour où il n’y avait pas de cours. Et quand tu es en pension c’est d’un ennui profond. Je remarquait le manège d’un gars qui amenait une fille dans les toilettes à l’autre bout de la cour. La suite des événements était claire. je me sentais extrêmement loin de tout ça. A quoi pouvais-je attribuer ceci, au charme du garçon, à la facilité de la fille. Leur course furtive jusqu’à l’endroit isolé avait l’air joyeuse. Et assurément je n’était pas quelqu’un de joyeux, le changement serait long, très long a venir.

 

Cet endroit était tellement malsain, puis l’enseignement ne me convenait pas, aucune raison de rester une autre année. Je me trouvait une autre formation dans un autre lycée.. et plus près de chez moi, à Tarbes. Là, j’était un “nouveau” quasiment tout les autres se connaissait déjà d’une année sur l’autre. Mais je restai taciturne. Dés le début de l’année scolaire je sentis que cela reprenait un mauvais chemin, j’allait me faire chahuter sans rien dire. Ma réaction survint pour que l’on me fiche la paix une bonne fois pour toute et je sortit de mon mutisme. Finalement les 2 ans dans ce lycée sont mon meilleur souvenir scolaire au niveau de la camaraderie et de l’ambiance… On passait notre temps a jouer au tarot à l’étude lorsque les pions n’étaient pas regardant et comme ça ceux qui voulait travailler pouvait le faire.

C’était en pleine époque new wave… Frankie Goes to Hollywood, Eurhytmics, U2 etc.

Chaque trimestre on organisait des soirées, Mes camarades tous ressortissant de la fête, Montagnards, Basques, Béarnais… Chantait toujours lors de ces repas…

Après on allait en discothèque et j’ai l’occasion plusieurs fois de faire des rencontres féminines, mais cela n’allait pas plus loin que les échanges buccaux, sûrement a cause de moi, j’avais pas vraiment envie de voir ce que ça donnerai à l’arrière d’une voiture ou en plein jour.

Cependant une fois une fille me pris soudain la main et lorsque je regardes, qui je vis, une espèce de Beauté princière. Je comprenais pas vraiment ce qui se passait mais j’avais bien envie d’en savoir plus.

Nous discutâmes donc. Puis a un moment elle me dit qu’elle devait partir telle cendrillon, une citrouille venant la chercher, en fait son père. Avant de tourner les talons vers la sortie, elle me roulait une pelle et disparaissait immédiatement.

C’était bien étrange et en fait sans aucun espoir de la revoir. A cet instant là, je me sentis le crapaud qui se transforme, le prince avec un soulier de verre et juste un prénom, Marie.

Quelque temps plus tard je la vit, j’étais en voiture, je pilait brusquement, mon passager et le pare-brise s’en souviennes… Je m’élançait vers elle, un peu comme dans un film. Et lorsque avant même que je débute une phrase, elle m’embrassait fortement (je ne devait pas avoir encore vu cette séquence là au cinéma). Nous avons discuté brièvement avec un échange d’adresse. Puis cela s’arrêta là.

Je compris par les lettres que tout ceci n’avait été qu’un cirque pour rendre jaloux son amoureux, espérait elle … Celui ne devait pas être suffisamment attentionné… N’empêche j’étais mordu. Je tentais plusieurs fois de la revoir, allant a son lycée, ou je du être très ridicule lorsque elle me vit.

J’allait jusque devant chez elle, peut-être m’embrassa t’elle a nouveau je ne sait plus. Et bien oui je devenait lourd. Mes autres visites n’eurent aucun succès… Pourtant j’attendais des heures.

Un soir après un repas trop arrosé, par dépit l’idée m’effleura d’aller me jeter dans la rivière la plus proche. On m’a retenu.

Le temps passait, il y avait un diplôme à obtenir ce qui fut fait, puis il fallait déterminer la suite à prendre après ce bac technique. Je pouvais facilement partir dans un BTS bureaux d’études. Ce qui me traçait ma vie pour le reste de mes jours… Et je me suis dit quelle belle fille voudra d’un médiocre qui travaillera dans un bureau d’études a faire des choses qui ne lui plaise même pas. Qui voudra de moi si je ne fais pas pour moi-même ce que j’ai envie de faire.

Bah, cela me faisait un objectif bien moins clair, plus casse gueule mais après tout j’avais rien perdre. Puisque de toute manière là je ne valait pas grand chose. Pendant l’été, m’ayant dit où elle irait en vacances, je suis allé au bord de la mer… Dans la ville où elle devait être… Le hasard, je comptais beaucoup sur le hasard, je pensais que si c’était le cas, il m’aiderai. Je suis rester tellement longtemps sur la plage que j’ai quasiment été brûlé au 2nd degré.

Il est sur que même 1 ou 2 an après je pensait encore à elle. Et bien que j’étais a présent à la fac de Toulouse. J’avais obtenu une dérogation spéciale pour y entrer… Je fis parfois des excursions vers Tarbes espérant la voir et cela n’arriva jamais.

Intensément ridicule, elle m’avait juste embrassé, pour moi c’était suffisant de la part d’une fille de mon âge et moi pas lâge de la situation.

Je concevais l’amour comme quelque chose de si haut ! Avec l’idée que l’on se réserve pour l’être aimé. je ne pouvais accepter que l’on puisse “sortir” avec une fille avec légéreté, sans que cela prête à conséquence. Tout était trop important.

 

Mes seuls amis après le lycée furent mes cousins et un de leur copain qui s’appelait [prénom effacé].

J’ai eu de ses nouvelles il y a peu ; il s’est coupé une main dans une machine.

C’est lui qui m’a donné mes premières K7 des Cures _Seventeen Seconds_ et _Faith_. Mais c’était la grande époque U2 ; fait chié, lui, il était toujours amoureux de quelqu’un.

Bah il y a bien eu deux soeurs un été, des filles de cabourg en vacances, deux petites blondes. La plus belle était la plus jeune, j’étais le plus vieux et j’ai eu la plus grosse. Bon, c’était du flirt et cela se limitait a qui embrassait le plus longtemps. Vers la fin des vacances elle me glissa un mot comme quoi elle était amoureuse de moi. Je me suis donc dit que les plus sensibles n’étaient pas celle que l’on croyaient et qu’il valait mieux faire attention avec ça. Cependant je ne donnait aucune réponse favorable a sa requête.

 

L’année se déroula à Toulouse où étudiant sans étudier. Je passait mes journées à rien faire. Mon grand truc fut de m’épiler la barbe, j’effectuait l’opération en un jour. C’était incroyable la douceur de peau obtenue, pendant plus d’une semaine seul un léger duvet persistait. Pas un seul poil rugueux ça devint une obsession et me renvoyait lorsque à 12 /13 ans je coupait aux ciseaux mes premiers poils pubiens.

On m’avait offert The Top pour mon anniversaire. La première fois que j’ai l’ai écouté j’ai cru que la k7 était détraquée. Ça paraissait déformé et trop lent. Et je ne savais plus très bien ce que je voulais devenir, Curiste peut-être… aussi je me rasait les tempes.

 

Parfois avec mes cousins et [prénom effacé] nous allions dans les bals de village. A cette occasion un nana me demanda carrément si je voulais sortir avec elle, [prénom effacé] si je me rappelle bien. C’était bizarre et en même temps déplaisant.

elle était toute excitée et n’arrêtait pas de dire des trucs du genre : “Tu es trop mignon, je veux sortir avec toi” J’ai dit non, pas parce qu’elle n’avait aucun charme, bien au contraire. Mais parce que je trouvais que c’était une approche pas romantique du tout.

 

J’ai arrêté la fac. L’été qui suivit [prénom effacé] un cousin se suicidait. Enfin on ne sait trop on l’a retrouvé noyé dans le Canal du midi avec une bible dans la poche. Alors des fringues noires je n’eut aucune peine à en trouver.

Le souvenir de la pièce ou reposait le corps, de ces soeurs qui pleurent, surtout [prénom effacé] qui était hystérique qui voulait qu’il se réveille que tout ça ne soit qu’un mauvais rêve. A l’église ce ne fut encore plus profond, le curé parla, parla comme un curé, mais aussi cita des notes que Jean avait laissé. Tout ceci n’appelait qu’à l’amour, au rapprochement, celui de ces parents divorcés… Qu’est ce que j’aurai pu faire ?

Quelques temps après lors d’une visite chez ma tante avec ma mère. J’était allé dans la chambre de [prénom effacé]. Il y avait là des disques de Supertramp et de Ricky Lee Jones. J’étais resté là en silence écoutant peut-être quelques titres Je me suis demandé. S’il avait connu _Faith_, peut-être cela aurait été différent. (je devais être très bête)

D’ailleurs Cure passait à Montpellier, une scène en plein air je crois. J’aurai aimé y allé, mais j’y renonçait cela me semblant déplacé.

[prénom effacé] fera partie plus tard des esprits que j’invoque lorsque j’ai besoin d’aide.

 

Lorsque une fille me regardait avec insistance je ne captait pas le message ou ne voulais pas le capter. Souvent des filles que je trouvait trop mature pour moi. Tandis que mes propres tentatives, vers des plus jeunes, ne trouvait pas d’écho et se diluait dans le vide. Apparemment il y avait décalage.

Je suis allé au service militaire à 21 ans, j’y prit du poids.

 

Aie, ici j’ai un épisode dont je suis obligé de parler, mais je ne sais plus très bien à quelle période il s’est produit c’est peut-être avant c’est peut-être entre temps c’est peut-être là. Je ne sais vraiment plus.

Mais bon c’est arrivé.

Encore une fois par manque de lit on faisait coucher des enfants avec des adultes, Je suis un gars gentil perçu comme responsable et tout ? Donc c’était pour moi. Puis y’avait de la place dans le lit.

Il s’agit de mon neveu.

Alors … D’autant plus qu’il y a parfois les érections nocturnes. La présence de quelqu’un me manquait. C’est mon neveu qui était là et je voulais le serrer contre moi je devais être dans des demi-sommeils. Mais apparemment cela l’empêchait de dormir et il chouinait. Je me suis aperçu que j’avais des érections et une étreinte une peu trop vigoureuse. Je pense que cela c’est produit sur deux nuits. Je crois que j’ai dit que je voulais pas que mon neveu dormes avec moi à ma mère et qu’elle s’arrange autrement ou j’ai pris sur moi, je ne sais plus…

 

Je passait mes étés seul, ne sortant pas de chez moi, n’ayant aucune relation avec l’extérieur… Je n’avais jamais eut des copains qu’au travers de l’école. Par obligation. Je n’éprouvait aucune nécessité d’aller vers les autres mais j’en souffrait c’est sur. Je crois fondamentalement que cela ne m’aurait rien apporté.

J’écoutais énormément Faith, je passait mes journées allongé sur le lit a regardé le plafond, laissant s’infiltrer chaque note. Il n’y aurait pas eu cela, je me serait peut-être laisser aller a quelque chose de débridé… je ne sais pas mais la musique me calmait, m’anesthésiait… Et surtout grâce a la trame du disque je me sentais moi, je me disait au moins il existe quelqu’un qui exprime ce que je ressent. Qui le dit si bien, si bien, que j’ai l’impression que c’est ma propre mélodie intérieure que j’entends. A l’époque Robert Smith n’était pas populaire. Je ne connaissait rien de ceux qui avait fait ce disque et cela n’avait d’ailleurs aucune importance… C’était quelque chose qui n’appartenait qu’a moi et que je ne désirait pas partager avec quelqu’un d’autre.

Pour moi il m’apparaissait impossible de rencontrer quelqu’un qui m’aimerait. Avoir une situation était une condition dans ce monde… Hormis cela je n’existait pas.

Mais les désirs purement sexuels me taraudait, j’étais encore puceau. Est-ce que je désirai des sentiments ou du plaisir finalement ?

Mes techniques masturbatoires se limitait encore au frottement entre le matelas et le sommier. le caractère de mon opération (mal faite ?) provoquant le fréquent saignement.

D’ailleurs je ne pensait pas que j’avais personnellement quelque chose a dire. De quoi était fait la vie des autres; apparemment que de choses bien superficielle. Dans mon village ont y trouvait des fils de maçon, d’ouvriers agricole, des filles de postiers ou que sais-je encore. Juste des jeunes qui boivent dans des cafés et qui appellent ça leur vie.

Ma soeur était depuis quelque jours chez mes parents, ma foi je n’avais connu que des rapports incestueux, et je ne pouvais me départir de cette pression d’envie de faire l’amour enfin d’avoir une rapport avec une fille qui me permettrai de l’introduire.

Je devais avoir une image des femmes extrémement réduite, mais je pense surtout une image de moi-même minimale.

Que des filles aient un regard gentil vers moi, me frôle la main et aussitôt je me renfermait, m’esquivait. Je luttait contre moi-même pour ne pas me laisser atteindre par quelqu’une. Si la fille était jolie c’était encore plus difficile a supporté… Je préférait les moches celle la ne se servaient pas de leur yeux doux. Je n’avais une faculté de paroles que dans l’indifférence.

J’avais éteint toute musique. Il fallait juste que je demande. Après tout les femmes serait comme tout le monde dit-on. Ma soeur à l’expérience. Cela devrait suffire. J’ai dit : “je voudrais faire l’amour avec toi” – “Je n’y tiens pas” – “je suis sur que cela te ferais plaisir” – “J’ai ce qu’il faut à la maison” – “ah bon”.

Je suis retourné dans ma chambre et j’ai remis Faith pour que toute la pression condensée puisse descendre.

Fin de l’épisode.

 

J’était demandeur d’emploi. Mes formations ne me servaient à rien … je passait des annonces. Je les lisait.

Un jour un gars c’est présenté, il se disait médecin… Et me proposait un job dans un hôpital. J’étais prêt d’accepter. Je raconterai les détails de cette anecdote une autre fois. La seule seule qu’il est utile de savoir ici. C’est que ce type demandait à me faire une visite “médicale”. J’acceptait … la visite s’effectuerai immédiatement et par lui-même dans ma chambre. Mes parents avait participé à l’entretien, cela ne souleva aucun objection sur le coup.

Il s’avéra que ce fut une visite approfondie. Il me posa aussi des questions sur ma vie amoureuse, lui disant qu’elle était inexistante, il poursuivi sur la question du désir d’enfants. Je lui répondit que j’en voulait. Il conclut “qu’il fallait que je m’y mettes” .

En fait il se produisit aucune proposition d’embauche suite a cette visite… Il est même possible que ce personnage n’a jamais été ce qu’il disait être.

 

Il y eu [prénom effacé] que j’avais rencontré dans une boite, j’avais eu une érection en dansant avec elle.

J’en était boulversifié.

Elle était de Toulouse ; on resta en contact amicalement. A l’époque j’osait me rendre chez une fille sans être spécialement invité. Ce qui ne ce fait pas, comment les gens se rencontre au juste ? Elle me reçut, c’était quelqu’un d’équilibré. Qui avait un travail, alors que moi j’étais chômeur. Je pense qu’elle comprit mes intentions très tôt puisque c’est la seule avant toi a qui j’ai envoyé des fleurs. Apparemment elle était avec un mec que je n’ai d’ailleurs jamais vu. Nous sommes allés à plusieurs concerts ensemble toujours avec une de ces copines. Et on se voyaient épisodiquement. Elle aimait bien Cure période light. Je pense qu’il y aurait pu y avoir quelque chose mais elle a trop attendue, puis moi je parlait peu.

En fait j’avais besoin de quelqu’un qui viennent me chercher et pour cela fallait bien être perturbée aussi.

 

Je me suis inscrit au fan Club Cure, j’ai eu plusieurs correspondantes, dont une que je pensait être amoureux.

Mais elle habitait Beauvais dans l’Oise. C’est elle a quasiment monter ma première discothèque ; tout ce dont on parle encore.

 

A ce moment là, je cherchait, avant tout, à rencontrer des Curistes. Mon horizon s’étendait petit à petit.

Il n’était plus question des cousins, qui aurait un ami d’un ami etc.

Je voulais mes propres amis.

En passant une annonce dans un gratuit local, j’ai connu [prénom effacé] le batteur puis [prénom effacé] ‘japanese girl’ un petit bout qui faisait vraiment penser a une jap. Perdue dans sa campagne. J’était toujours chez elle (ma mère voyait encore cela d’un mauvais oeil). C’est elle qui voulait que je l’embrasse juste parce que ça lui manquait. Je n’aurait jamais voulu sortir avec elle mais c’est vrai que j’étais parfois jaloux quand elle sortait avec quelqu’un. On parlait Cure Cure Cure et elle avait pornography, comment l’oublirai-je !

 

Elle me fit connaître [prénom effacé] ‘la mystique’. C’était une fille vraiment bizarre, physiquement au premier abord, trop grande et gauche, toujours l’air dans une brume ou une absence. Des yeux complètement impassible presque mort. Elle avait fait des études de pyscho et n’arrivait pas a trouver un emploi, vivait chez sa soeur. Avait fréquenté des sectes.

Elle avait toute la panoplie métaphysique, dressait les thèmes astraux, triait le Hi-King, fréquentait les voyants pour toutes les questions.

Un week-end, le batteur nous avait concocté une expédition des châteaux cathares, lui, moi, [prénom effacé]  et [prénom effacé]. [prénom effacé]  disait qu’elle avait été cathares dans une autre vie et elle avait été jetée dans le feu des brasiers de l’inquisition.

Le batteur souhaitait sûrement que je sortes avec [prénom effacé] car la nuit d’hôtel nous l’avons passé dans la même chambre… Il connaissait mon problème avec les femmes, il avait quelques notions en graphologie et autre signes interprétables.

Plus psychologie qu’ésotérique, sans y être réticent. Mais il n’y eut rien entre [prénom effacé] et Jean. Est ce que les choses doivent se produire juste parce qu’elle sont rendues possibles ?

Je crois qu’ensuite [prénom effacé] est partie au Japon a cause d’un de ces correspondant sur lequel les filles craquent.

Je l’ai détesté, et lorsque elle est revenue, le batteur l’amena pour une soirée, je ne lui ait pas dit un mot.

 

Entre temps [prénom effacé] et moi sommes allé a un concert des Cure Tournée Kiss me… Depuis longtemps elle voulait que je lui fasse l’amour, elle me l’avait dit… parce que elle était vierge et elle voulait que je soit le premier.. et je lui avait pourtant dit que je ne pouvait pas parce je n’était pas amoureux d’elle, etc. Cependant elle insista tellement que

tout en restant habillé et en nous enlaçant j’ai simulé pour elle l’acte. Son seul commentaire fut “c’est donc ça” Je crains qu’elle n’est été déçue par la rusticité de ma démonstration …

 

Parallèlement, la correspondante Curiste de Beauvais trouve un travail d’intérim et vient s’installer à Toulouse. Son arrivée dans cette ville avait été chapeauté par une autre fille qui s’appelle [prénom effacé] qui faisait aussi partie du fan club.

[prénom effacé] étudiante en psycho je crois et son mec je ne sais plus.

Enfin, il y eu des rencontres d’organisé avec plusieurs personnes qui faisaient parties du club de l’époque… J’attendais beaucoup de la première rencontre… On c’était tellement écrit, j’avais dit tant de choses (qu’il me semblait). Elle ne c’est pas très bien passé… J’ai rien pu dire, rien faire… avec mes pensées empesées. Je les aient juste accompagné une après-midi. Ensuite c’est bon Jean, t’es gentil mais tu peux rentrer chez toi.

On se revit tout de même plusieurs fois. Et je me suis d’ailleurs par moment emporter à dire ce que je pensais. En fait j’ai appris par la suite que les deux filles était gouines… Mais l’eau avait passé sous les ponts depuis… et passa même plusieurs fois.

 

Ce sera après les histoires avec Jeanne. [prénom effacé] arranga un rdv, en me faisant comprendre qu’il suffirait de peu pour que [prénom effacé] me tombe dans les bras. Moi je pensait encore à [prénom effacé]. Je ne comprenait pas ce retournement de situation. trop de choses c’était passé depuis. Je n’était pas en état de reprendre des sentiments qui avait attendu, même s’il avait pu être plus vrais et plus sincères… Souvent a force d’attendre les choses s’éparpillent Ce n’était plus qu’un fantôme du passé. Du temps où j’était un jeune homme plein de rêves. Que le vie en peu de temps allait esquinter.

On s’écrirait épisodiquement, se verrait de temps à autre pour discuter de la vie mais sans réelle profondeur. finlament on se perdra de vue.

 

Mais je sors de la chronologie…

 

[prénom effacé] me mit en relation avec [prénom effacé], autre Curiste addict.

Petit échange de courrier, rencontre en solo. Elle commençait la fac à Toulouse et moi à y travaillé.

Nous sortimes ensemble peu après, elle me dépucela… Ce qui fit beaucoup de peine à [prénom effacé] lorsque je lui ait dit tout content… “Comment peux-tu me dire cela à moi, me dit-elle” Oui en effet encore une fois je me suis planté.

 

J’avais acheté une bague à [prénom effacé]… Je voulais me montrer attentionné … (il y avait du _Primary_ la-dessous)

Mais elle était bien perturbé, L’utilisation de la lame de cutter était une exercice dans lequel elle excellait. Et toujours a me parler de Dieu le père, Dieu le père ! elle n’avait pas connu son père.

Puis elle avait parlé de moi a sa mère, hé fallait que je fasse les concours des postes selon elle.

Tout ceci m’as un peu fatigué. On été pas d’accord sur la religion c’est sur. Je ne pouvais rien faire contre ces pulsions destructrices, ce fut quelque chose d’extrémement pesant, difficile pour une première relation. Un jour je l’ai regardé monter des escaliers devant moi… Et alors j’ai pensé que je ne pouvais pas rester avec elle.

Dans la même semaine j’étais dans sa chambre étudiante, la discussion a encore tourné sur la religion, mon point de vue ne l’a pas satisfaite (j’étais très cartésien à l’époque), je ne me suis pas satisfait du sien. Et je suis parti.

[prénom effacé] avait ce que l’on appelle une peau de pêche, petite blonde, etc.  avec une silhouette mal proportionnée. Je ne me rappelle que de n’avoir fait qu’une fois l’amour avec elle. la première. Un truc sans finesse, ni communion. dans la technique du _je me mets sur toi et je t’écrase_. Quelque chose de lourd, sans fusion ou j’ai du éjaculer rapidement comme pour me débarrasser d’un malaise ou d’une chose a faire par contrainte et sans conviction.

 

Viendra alors ma période minitel. J’était dans un appartement a Toulouse …. Personne ne venait me rendre visite. Je ne savais que faire et où aller…

Je ne cherchait pas de plan cul sur les messageries roses. Je voulais juste des contacts… et cela me semblait le moyen le plus protecteur, l’anonymat ! Toujours à cause de cette difficulté à aller vers les autres.

A force de me connecter matin midi et soir (les factures étaient lourdes) j’ai finit par mettre en confiance plusieurs personnes, que j’étais un gars gentil, qui avait certes des problèmes de communication. Qui se sentait seul et qui avait besoin de connaître des gens. De me sortir de ma lourdeur. J’ai rencontré des pds, des animateurs sympa dont une fille qui me trouva même un autre boulot lorsque j’ai eu des problèmes d’argent.

C’est grâce à elle aussi que j’ai su que je devais aller a l’Autan (bar branché) si je voulais rencontrer d’autres personnes qui avaient les mêmes goûts musicaux que moi…

Chose que j’ai eu un mal de chien a réaliser !

Pour moi, me rendre dans un bar seul était une chose inconcevable. Être soumis a la promiscuité des gens… C’était l’horreur.

Je suis allé voir ou c’était… Puis un autre jour, fallait vraiment que que j’aille là, je ne pouvais plus rester comme ça seul chez moi a attendre que rien ne vienne… J’était paniqué… Pour essayé d’y voir clair je me suis posté en face du bar sur un banc et j’ai attendu, attendu je ne sais quoi, que je me vois aussi ridicule que je le suis. Pourquoi j’irai là dans cet endroit ou des gens sereins, matures et jouisseurs me regarderai comme une chose intruse, étrangère.

Finalement lorsque mon calme revint un peu, convaincu que malgré l’importance que j’accordait à la chose … il ne se produirai peut-être rien de plus et que ce n’était pas en restant dehors qu’il se passerait enfin quelque chose.

Il s’avéra que le serveur fut suffisamment sympa pour qu’il m’adresse la parole, il avait vu mon badge _pornography_ et ceci fit un sujet de conversation.

J’y retrounait, et de fil en aiguille je me familliarisait avec le millieu et rencontrait plein de nouvelles têtes.

[prénom effacé] dit “Croq” fut le premier avec qui j’eu une réelle discussion. C’était peut-être pas la meilleure rencontre a faire mais il m’ouvrit les portes vers les autres.

[[prénom effacé]  et [prénom effacé], j’ai assisté parfois a des scènes d’une violence extrême entre eux deux. Mais c’est une autre histoire. ]

 

A partir de ce temps ce fut extrêmement agréable, mon cercle s’augmentait sans efforts… Il n’y avait qu’a se laisser vivre… Un soir [prénom effacé] posa sa main sur ma jambe, je la lassait faire.

Je ne me rendit pas compte du jeu tout de suite. Quelque jours plus tard nous sommes allé au ciné ensemble voir 9 semaine et 1/2 et elle vint chez moi passé la nuit.

Ma deuxième fois ressembla à la première.

Puis un autre soir elle est venue directement chez moi, avec sa cape et son noir à lèvres, il était manifeste qu’elle allait rester dormir.

On n’as pas vraiment fait la chose, j’ai dit un truc puis on s’est arrêté… Nous n’étions pas très communicant et nous avons simplement dormit.

Bah, a une autre occasion [prénom effacé], [prénom effacé] et moi sommes même allé dans un ciné porno. Pff, elle avait 17 ans mais il n’ont pas demandé les cartes d’identité a l’entrée. c’était juste pour le fun, nous n’y sommes pas resté longtemps.

Normalement elle sortait avec [prénom effacé]… Mais bon j’en sais pas plus, ils donnait pas l’impression d’être excessivement amoureux, puis [prénom effacé] faisait ces affaires très discrètement.

Parfois les silences était suffisament éloquants. Ma vie avait une tournure plus légére. Si [prénom effacé] et moi marchions dans la rue on pouvait très bien s’esclamer en coeur “Ah, [prénom effacé]!” et cela ne cherhcait pas plus loin.

 

Puis il y eu son anniversaire, j’y fit la connaissance de [prénom effacé]… tout le monde présent à finit par se retrouver allongé avec quelqu’un. On a juste jouer a je t’embrasse je te caresse. J’avais bien aimé avoir toute la soirée cette jeune fille sensuelle de 17 ans contre moi. Je n’aurai rien voulu d’autre. Je devais avoir 23 ans.

Au petit matin, nous avons constaté qu’il avait une chambre de libre dans la maison de [prénom effacé]. Et que nous aurions pu y faire l’amour si on s’en était rendu compte. C’était charmant… Il n’y avait pas eu d’obligation. Tout ça avait été d’une légèreté infinie que je n’avait jamais connu avant. Je l’ai revu 2 fois par la suite a des occasions plus classiques ou nous avons juste discuté. Elle me remontera d’ailleurs le moral lorsque je dût prendre la décision de partir de Toulouse pour un autre emploi après l’épisode Jeanne.

 

Tout ceci n’étant que des histoires d’un instant, la vie passe sans que ça change quelque chose. Tu te retrouves seul a penser a telle personne ou telle autre et tu te demandes… Que dois-je faire ? Il n’y a personne pour moi dans les gens que je connais déjà. Tu voudrais avoir de l’intérêt pour ceux qui te n’en donnes pas ou peux-tu donner de l’intérêt a ceux qui t’en donnerais. L’idée de donner de l’intérêt a ceux qui m’en donnes pas me m’étant pas sans rien attendre en retour ne m’était pas encore venu à l’esprit… Mais comment si je me trouve sans intérêt ?

 

Un tout dernier épisode avant Jeanne… Suite a quelque problèmes économiques je proposait a [prénom effacé] et sa copine que nous nous installions ensemble dans un appartement, nous partagerions les frais. J’était très ami avec [prénom effacé] quasiment amoureux de lui. J’aimais un peu moins sa copine.

 

C’était des personnes très sociables et j’étais pas toujours suffisamment léger a chaque instant. J’était maniaque dans mon genre. Nous passèrent d’excellents moments. Tout avec un bon fond. Chacun respectant l’intimité des autres…

A un moment ils voulurent me mettre dans les pattes une fille, collègue de travail de [prénom effacé] (copine de [prénom effacé]).

Ceci se déroula a l’occasion d’un premier de l’an. La soirée se passait admirablement bien avec le je-m’en-foutisme qui me caractérisait à l’époque. C’était plutôt une bonne femme qu’un fille. Pouah !

Au retour, elle est montée dans ma voiture. J’ai commencé à lui caresser le minou. Elle n’en pouvait plus, la pauvre ! Elle si laissait vraiment prendre. Et c’était certainement pas la discussion que nous avions eu dans la soirée, où je l’avait ignorée, qui l’avait assommée.

Une fois dans ma chambre, je l’ai introduite et cela a été de sa part : – ha ha ha que c’est bon, – ha ha ha, ça faisait tellement longtemps !

J’ai stoppé l’affaire là, en plan. Même pas envie de finir la besogne. En lui disant mais tu ne te rends pas compte que l’on a absolument rien en commun. humpf humpf… Bon alors je m’en vais là ?

Et bien oui je crois.

Finalement la communauté s’acheva pour des raisons de désaccord sur la gestion des tâches ménagères, faut dire que c’était plutôt devenue la ménagerie !

Nous eurent un discussion à la terrasse de l’Autan. Ou j’entendis tout ce que j’entendis toute ma vie : “Que je fais des reproches aux autres de n’être pas assez attentionnés/Que je ne suis pas cool/Que je ne suis pas souple/Enfin que c’est moi qui ai un problème et que je ferais mieux d’avoir plus de distance, etc, etc.”

Je pleurait a chaudes larmes, sachant que cela n’y changerait rien, ne pouvant masquer ma sincère amertume.

 

Je trouvait un logement dans le centre ville, j’aillait être plus libre de mes déplacements, plus près des lieux que je fréquentait. je sortait un peu plus, je m’assumait mieux… Il y avait une copine de [prénom effacé] que j’appréciait particulièrement. Un peu amoureux, beaucoup impressionné.. C’était une delurée, gothique a souhait et moi j’aurai été trop chiant, je voulais un Amour. C’était parfaitement inutile d’essayer de l’atteindre… Donc c’était mieux ainsi.

J’avais bien aimé passer quelques moments avec elle, on se payait des verres, on faisiat unpeu les cons ensemble. Pour le reste vallait mieux laisser courir et puis rien ne pressait plus. J’étais mordu mais stoïque.

 

Jeanne arriva assez vite, je fut réticent un moment mais elle s’obstina. Comment ne pas être touché.

Notre premier rdv, je lui demandais de m’accompagné faire mes courses… Genre si après cet abord trivial tu es encore dans mes pattes on verra.

Et elle le fit. Peu après, je la vit à la terrasse du café tandis que je traversais la rue. Elle s’était coiffé particulièrement – J’avoue là, j’étais pris. Nous nous tenions compagnie, je la faisait venir chez moi. Ceci dura plusieurs jours.

Puis arriva l’instant ou nous nous étions tut et elle face a moi et moi face a elle je l’ai rapproché pour l’embrasser et elle m’embrassa aussi.

Nous nous roulèrent sur le lit restant juste l’un contre l’autre a profiter de l’instant. Peut-être déclarais-je que je ne désirait pas que notre relation prennes de l’importance. Mais elle eu cette phrase magnifique “Maintenant tu es avec moi”.

Au départ nous voyions seulement en journée; Les choses n’étaient pas encore installée, lorsqu’elle revenait vers moi elle me disait j’ai embrassé tel mec. Plus tard, elle me dira : “j’ai passé la nuit avec telle personne”.

 

On s’appelait pour se voir et chacun faisait la moitié du chemin, ce qui fait que l’on se rejoignait devant l’église Saint Sernin.

Nos rapports furent habillé pendant un temps. Elle disait qu’elle ressentait suffisamment les choses ainsi. Mais je du lui expliqué et ce avec beaucoup de difficultés que le frottement des vêtements me blessait. Et que je préférait que l’on passe a autre chose.

Ce qui nous valut peu après l’épisode de la capote percée (un classique) et ma première occasion de rencontrer son père médecin.

Je lui faisait part aussi de mes peurs que je n’avait pas une conception de l’amour très bonne, je lui disait pour mon frère et d’autres petites choses.

Jeanne m’expliqua et me montra la sensualité, que l’amour c’était beau, que lorsque on s’aimait on pouvait faire l’amour plein de fois et n’importe où et d’autres choses encore.

Soudain elle voulait faire l’amour dans tel endroit ou a tel moment, j’était jamais bien à l’aise dans ces situations là. Mais je la suivait, je l’aurait suit n’importe où !

Escalier, hall, lac, douche, nature, voiture.

Il y eu par la suite les variations de positions aussi, évidement.

Jeanne était exigeante, mais c’est une bonne chose. Comment découvrir les choses autrement ?

Je me rendit compte très vite la rapidité de mon éjaculation n’était pas adaptée à la demande de qualité.

Je ne trouvait pas d’autres moyen  de me masturber avant pour m’éviter d’avoir une éjaculation trop rapide.

Sinon j’avais du mal a me retenir et tout partait en quelques instants.

Elle fut vexée de l’apprendre. Mais je pense qu’elle comprit ou était l’astuce.

 

Lorsque j’eu a connaître sa famille, tout d’abord du côté de son père : invité à souper. Je lme suis vu passé au crible de ses réflexions. Que fais-tu dans la vie ? J’était incapable d’expliquer clairement. Tu y arriveras peut-être ? Heu, à quoi exactement, pensai-je ? Il me fit l’exposition de l’arbre généalogique de la famille. Me fit comprendre que je lui volait sa fille. Je suis ressorti de là j’étais démonté. On s’arrêta un moment avec Jeanne  sur le bord des marches dans la rue au pied de chez son père. J’avais une espèce d’envie de vomir. je ne comprenais pas pourquoi il avait été aussi odieux avec moi.

 

Par contre, la première fois que j’avais vu la mère de Jeanne, celle là avait l’apparence d’être très détendue. Je compris très vite que le faux cul n’était pas celui que l’on croit. Et que peut-être l’un connaissait mieux sa fille que l’autre. [prénom effacé], la mère de Jeanne je ne sais pour quelle raisons essayait de me charmer. D’ailleurs [prénom effacé] m’avait raconté une fois qu’elle avait rêvé que j’avais couché avec sa mère. Jeanne  avait une mauvaise image de sa mère. C’est elle qui avait quitté son mari. L’image d’une salope qui faisait venir des hommes chez elle pour une nuit, etc, etc.

Il y a beaucoup de détails de ce genre que Jeanne  me raconta.

 

Parfois elle avait l’autorisation de son père pour rester la nuit chez moi.

Nous ne vécurent pas vraiment ensemble. Notre plus longue période partagée furent ces fameuses vacances d’un mois en Corse.

Elle était souvent jalouse, pour un regard, tout les sujets de disputes étaient sur ce type de thème.

Pas sur des choses triviales comme la vaisselle ou le lait qui déborde.

Non, plutôt sur des trucs comme tu ne m’as regardé, tu ne m’as pas embrassé, tu m’as laissé toute seule.

Et finalement j’ai du prendre l’habitude de faire pareil.

 

Lorsque nous dormions ensemble nous étions toujours collé l’un contre l’autre. Je ne sais pas comment on y arrivait mais jamais nous n’avons dormi chacun de notre côté, enfin sûrement que si dans certaines phases de sommeil.

 

Nous marchions enlacés, dans une rue un peu sombre à la sortie d’une crêperie, soudain d’un groupe qui nous croisait se détacha un noir qui vint vers nous et nous enlaça d’un grand geste et s’exclama “Accident Corporel !” Ceci nous fit beaucoup rire !

 

Il y a eu plein d’histoires, des tas de trucs sans queue ni tête.

la fois ou c’est moi qui en ai eu marre, je lui rendit son pantalon que je portai (traverser une ville en slip c’est rigolo).

Lorsque c’est elle qui voulait me quitter ; j’ai pleuré, la deuxième j’ai vomi, la troisième j’ai pas manger d’une semaine.

Une fois cependant elle m’avait dit ceci “je sais que tu m’aimeras toujours”.

Il y eu la fois avec les pompiers.

Celle où elle me reprocha d’être trop romantique.

La fois ou elle m’as dit qu’elle préférait que je sois un clochard.

La fois ou j’ai du la passé sous la douche, la fois ou elle jeter des cailloux contre mes volets, la fois ou j’ai voulu m’ouvrir les veines, etc.

 

Moi qui ne savait rien, je n’étais jamais sortit avec un fille de façon régulière, même si cela n’avait été qu’un flirt, quelqu’un a qui tu ne sens pas vraiment attaché.

il fallait que j’assume de partout, sur plein de domaine.

Vint un moment ou nous nous cherchions tout le temps, je ne pouvais plus appeler directement chez elle un truc comme ça. Je la cherchait dans les cafés ou elle se rendait après les cours, j’attendais devant chez elle. Il devait y avoir un sixième sens. On tombait l’un sur l’autre à chaque fois.

 

Jeanne  aimait le soleil, la plage les baignades. Nous sommes allés en Corse parce que elle le désirait. En fait les fonds maritimes même en eaux claires ça me fait flippé. Mais bon ça c’est pas bien grave.

Ça se passait plutôt bien. On faisait l’amour tout les matins après le petit déjeuner.

Une après-midi alors que nous nous rendions en ville. Soudainement elle me disputa pour une raison stupide. Genre : j’avais parlé à une caissière avec un sourire.

Peut-être parce que j’avais renvoyé le problème par un réflexe dérisoire du type “N’importe quoi !” Elle s’en est prise à moi en me déchirant le tee-shirt, prétextant que je mentais. C’était impossible ! Ce genre de scène était déjà arrivée, mais là, ça prenait des proportions dramatiques. On aurait dit que ça lui manquait… Mes premières réactions a ce genre de délire furent de la gifler, c’est sûr, et après on se battait… Quelqu’un de normal, dés les prémices aurait quitté la fille et en aurait trouvé 10 autres. Mais pas moi, j’était trop obnibulé par le concept de : “la seule, l’unique, la femme de ma vie”.

 

Mais j’en avait marre, tout allait bien merde ! Alors je me suis barré, je l’ai laissé là au beau milieu d’une place. Je ne savais pas ce qui allait arrivé mais j’avais vraiment plus envie de subir ça.

J’ai pris la voiture et je suis allé au hasard. Bien sur je l’aimait et ça me faisait chier de faire ça. Mais quoi on allait s’entre-tuer si ça continuait.

Je suis resté jusqu’à la tombée de la nuit dans les hauteurs au-dessus de Porto-Vecchio.

Puis ne connaissant aucun autre endroit où aller je suis redescendu vers l’endroit ou nous logions.

Jeanne  était là. Elle n’avait pas l’air mieux que moi. Je lui ai demandé comment elle était rentré, elle avait fait du stop.

J’ai voulu que l’on parle de ce qui c’était passé.

Et là elle s’est jetée sur moi en hurlant des trucs incohérents.

“J’ai plus de papa, j’ai plus de maman !”

 

Quand je l’écris ou j’en parle ça me fais encore mal, j’ai essayer de la prendre dans mes bras de la calmer de lui dire que j’étais là qu’elle avait encore son papa et encore sa maman. Toutes ces choses.

C’était vraiment difficile de comprendre ce qui lui arrivait.

Elle me fit la gueule à partir de là.

A la fin des vacances son père, avec sa petite famille, vient pour quelques jours. Ce qui n’arrangea rien.

 

Mais les choses continuerait. Je quittait mon appartement et dût revenir chez mes parents qui sont a 50 km de Toulouse

Nous avions, forcément pris un peu de distance. Mais c’était pas voulu, juste une contrainte économique.

J’avais bien essayé a un moment prendre un appart pour tout les deux… Mais je crois que son père s’y était opposé.

 

Nous passions le week-end à l’hôtel ; puis parfois on pouvait aller chez sa mère. Toute sa famille me connaissait, oncles, grands parents, etc.

 

Je connaissait ses copains et copines de classes (elle était dans les arts graphiques).

Pendant un de ces week-end à l’hôtel, cela devait être le matin, on y prenait le petit déjeuner dans la chambre. Sans rien demander de plus; Jeanne  commença a avoir une attitude lascive. je ne sais pas quel film elle était en train de faire, mais je ne le trouvait pas sincère, ça me déplut.  Je la repoussait méchamment, prétextant que c’était pas la peine de tenter sur moi des expériences vénales, qu’il eu mieux valu pour elle qu’elle soit sincère et que c’est pas ce que je ressentait que c’était pas un jeu. Nous rentrèrent tout deux en colère. Peut-être étais-je psycho-rigide, réticent au changement, réticent à l’expression d’un émotion légère et sans fondement. Peut-être avait t’elle vu un de ces films pornos qui passe le samedi en cryptée sur C+ (sa mère avait un décodeur depuis peu). Peut-être aurais-je du la laisser faire. Manifestement sa présentation était ratée. Forme sans fond m’apparut-elle.

 

La situation professionnelle changat. Pendant une assez longue période je fut en déplacement. Durant la semaine on ne se voyait pas car je travillait du côté de Marseille.

Puis c’était pas plus mal, nos relations devenaient plus calmes.

Je pouvais enfin souffler un peu. Tout ceci finirait bien par s’arranger.

 

Mais mon absence prolongée eurent pour conséquence de mettre encore plus de complications. J’ai eu droit à : “mes régles sont en retard je suis peut-être enceinte…”, à : “je suis sorti avec un mec, mais juste embrassé hein !” et “je préfére que l’on ne se fréquente plus”. Toutes sortes de choses plus ou moins alambiquées. Certaines pour appeler à ma réaction, d’autres par ennui de mon absence.

Je tenais vraiment à elle, peut-être ne savait pas le montrer. Mais d’un autre part, j’aspirait a plus de calme, plus de simplicité. Pourquoi n’a t’elle pas compris cela. Mon défaut est que face a ces problèmatiques, je me trouve sous le coup de l’émotion et je ne trouve souvent aucun argument pour défendre mon point de vue. La plupart du temps je cédais a ses demandes. Mais bien vite en moi montait la charge des émotions, je ne pouvais, l’acccepter, je ne pouvais m’y résoudre. Je devais la voir, lui parler, même si je devais pour cela faire quelques conneries insensées.

 

Alors petit a petit nos relations plutôt que de simplement se détendre, prirent de la distance.

On se voyait, on faisait toujours des choses ensembles…

 

Un vendredi soir je suis passé chez sa mère comme d’hab. Celle-ci étant souvant absente le week-end. On allait trouvé quelqu’un à voir, à inviter et ainsi passer la soirée.

Et voilà qu’elle me dit que je ne peux pas rester. Qu’elle a prévue qu’un copain venait la chercher et que j’étais pas prévu au programme. J’ai bien sur pas compris. Mais elle m’expliquait si bien la chose que je fut résigné.

A l’heure dite je du partir. Et moi et moi et moi… refaire 40 km, rentrer.

Pff, je suis allé à l’Autant, j’ai bu 2, 3 bières peut-être plus. En fait, la quantité d’alcool est inversement nécessaire à la quantité d’ametume.

Merde, comment puis je me laisser marcher sur les pieds ? Comment puis-je laisser abuser de ma gentillesse ?

Hum, dans le bar j’en ai parlé avec une nana, elle me disait c’est normal elle a le droit de faire ce qu’elle veux.

Comment ça ? moi je ne suis qu’un chien !

Bien sûr, j’y suis retourné. J’ai escaladé la grille, je suis entré dans le jardin. L’enflé qui prétendait au rdv justement se pointait … Il a juste fait son apparition entre les fers de la grille et a disparu comme il était venu, au vu du raffut que je faisait dans le jardin. Renversant des pots de fleurs, voulant monter sur le toit.

J’ai fais le chien, je me suis accroupi et j’ai aboyé, j’ai mangé de l’herbe.

Jeanne  ne m’a pas ouvert, j’étais d’ailleurs pêté, c’était une raison suffisante. J’avais la haine et alors qu’est ce qui peut me calmer ? Le tout serait paut-être de ne pas me mettre la haine après tout ! Oui peut-être l’amour n’a pas être fort après tout, s’il n’a que la capacité  détruire tout sur son passage. Aimer d’un amour égal et sans frasque.

Zéro plus zéro égale zéro… C’est aussi une égalité. Mais je suis un comme tout un chacun.

Et un ne peut aimer pour deux pour que cela fasse deux. Sinon qui retiens tout ?

 

A un moment j’ai trouvé du verre, je voulais me trancher la gorge. Mais saoul, j’ai pas été efficace. Elle a prévenu son père… Le SAMU est arrivé en même temps que lui… M’ont fait des tas de trucs, prise de machin, prise de bidule. J’étais content que l’on s’occupe de moi ! Et puis content d’avoir fait échoué la soirée de Jeanne. Et hop le flics m’ont embarqué et j’ai finit la nuit au poste.

C’était la fin des haricots n’est ce pas ! cela aurait du l’être.

 

Après ça si on se revoyait, juste pour prendre des nouvelles à la terrasse d’un café. on ne faisait plus de soirées ensemble.

elle sortit avec d’autres gars. Me racontait des tas de trucs. Mais on était juste “amis”.

 

Mais moi j’était mal, j’aurai voulu être avec elle. Faire comme les autres couples autour de moi. Un travail, une maison, un chien tout ce que tout veux et en route pour la joie. Jeanne  n’était pas gothique ni new wave, ni tout ça … Sa fibre artistique faisait qu’elle se suffisait à elle-même. Elle créait ses propres raisons d’être. Etait-ce une sorte de vibration que je captais et voulais connaître encore.

Je me sentais mal, des obsessions sexuelles… encore plus fortes.

Pourant même en couple je n’ai pas vraiement de tendances a des débordements sexuels excessifs. Sûrement que la rupture m’entraînait vers des questionnements de cet ordre, me déstablisait profondément.

Ma relation avec Jeanne  m’amenait inexorablement et depuis toujours vers le dérapage.

 

C’est a cette période que je commençait a aller voir les putes… Juste peut-être pour lui dire combien je souffrais.

Un jour elle m’avait demandé : tu es déjà allé voir une pute , je lui avait répondu que le jour où j’irai voir une de ces dames c’est que je serait vraiment mal.

et ce fut dit.

La première avait la peau douce, je n’avait d’ailleurs jamais imaginé que quelqu’un puisse avoir une peau si douce avec des seins si beaux.

Une autre m’avait sucé d’une manière bien particulière. un technique faite avec la langue, quasiment impossible de demander ça a une fille. Il y eu plusieurs séries y compris des travelos . Le premier j’ai pas vu tout de suite que c’était un mec… Il était trop belle.

 

Un soir devant deux cafés, elle me dit : “j’ai envie de faire l’amour avec toi”… J’avais décidé de passer la nuit a l’hôtel. J’ai refusé et pourtant j’en mourrai d’envie.

Continuant a se voir en amis, tel qu’elle en avait exprimé le désir. Elle me racontait ses histoires, les mecs avec qui elle couchait, des trucs d’une nuit maximum. Si je connaissais le gars , elle me disait : “oh mais c’est un con !”

Un jour elle me raconta même qu’elle et une autre fille s’étaient tapée un mec. Un infirmier alors qu’elle faisait son travail d’été dans les asiles de fous… Les autiste aussi ont des histoires d’amour, le saviez-vous ?

J’ai finit pas trouver une petite chambre en pension au mois dans la banlieue … C’est à dire qu’au niveau finances c’était appart ou bagnole… et mes parents m’avait fait acheter une voiture ce qui m’avait coincé chez eux pendant presque un an.

Depuis le temps j’avais fait ami avec un collègue de bureau et on sortait dans d’autres endroits. J’avais décidé Jeanne  a venir avec moi un samedi dans une boite que je fréquentait.

La soirée débuta chez sa mère, elle n’était pas souvent là le week-end. Je vis que Jeanne buvait de plus en plus. Je m’inquiétais pour elle, mais j’y pouvais rien. Je croyais que l’on pouvait encore s’aimer.

Jeanne branchait un peu mon copain qui nous accompagnait, celui-ci toujours stoïque ne faisait pas mine de comprendre vraiment.

Jeanne  n’avait-elle pas besoin de ce sentir le centre d’intérêt !

Nous arrivames à la boite située assez loin de Toulouse mais cela se passa bien.

Je pense que la je me suis dit voilà, maintenant je vais laisser Jeanne  toute seule. J’avais envie de lui faire ressentir ce que ça fait que d’être une pauvre conne dans un endroit que tu ne connaît pas.

Je l’ai laissée, je voulais m’amuser comme elle l’avait toujours fait sans s’occuper de moi.

J’étais dans le mille. Je me trémoussait sur la piste de danse (ce que je ne fais jamais) m’approchant d’une fille ou d’une autre (encore moins) Souriant, gai, léger.

Cela faisait déjà un bon moment que l’on était là, elle avait déjà du faire son petit tour… et se sentir mal à l’aise.

 

Soudain, je vois Jeanne  qui vient vers moi, m’embrasse et qui plutôt que de rester là, repart.

Je la retrouve assise, perdue dans des pensées. Je lui demande si elle veut me parler … me dit que non.

Lui dit que moi je veux parler. L’entraîne a l’extérieur, pensant que l’air frais lui ferait du bien.

 

Alors, je ne sais comment, elle ne veux rien dire, je veux qu’elle parle, je veux qu’elle m’explique pourquoi elle vient de m’embrasser… On se retrouve entre des voitures, elle veux que je la lâche, je ne veux pas, elle se débat, j’essaye de me retenir que ça dégénère. Je veux juste que ça ne bouge plus, je veux qu’elle me répondes.

Alors je nous envoie au sol, je me dis que ce sera plus facile.

- Avoues, avoues que tu es une salope ! avoues !

 

- Oui, je suis une salope ; mais je t’aime.

 

En tombant au sol elle a du tapé contre une pierre. Ce sera samu pour elle et une crise d’hypoglycémie ou un truc comme ça.

Sûrement que les aveux obtenus sous la torture et l’alcool ne sont pas de très bonnes qualités.

Nous étions en Décembre, dans un espèce de brouillard je m’inquiète d’elle dans l’ambulance.

Quelques jours plus tard, moi, toujours a m’accroché comme un perdu, je la revoies dans un bus que j’ai chopé en même temps qu’elle… J’essaye de lui parler, je vois que cette fois ci il y a des marques… elle me demande de descendre au prochain arrêt.

 

Normalement je ne la reverrais plus jamais.

Crois tu que l’histoire s’arrête ici. et bien non et c’est bien ça qui est bizarre.

 

Je quittait définitivement la région, j’avais été licencié début décembre et le seul job que j’ai trouvé 6 mois plus tard était dans les Charentes. C’est que cela devait être ainsi et d’ailleurs bien mieux ainsi. Ce nouveau job allait me permettre de me situer professionnellement ce qui ne pouvait pas être plus mal tellement je m’en étais moqué précédemment. Et surtout de ne plus être tenté de voir Jeanne.

 

Donc me voici à Angoulême, je commence avec six mois d’essai et un petit studio minable. Mes collègues de travail sont jeunes mais la plupart des autochtones sont des crétins congénitaux.

Là, plus de boîtes Gothiques, plus de soirées extravagantes. Peu de personnes sortent du lot mais c’est avec eux que je serait plus prompt a sympathiser. Au début je vais tout les week-end chez mes parents. Mais au moins je change d’état d’esprit et oublie les tracasseries passés… Et si j’allait à toulouse c’était juste pour trouver des prostituées.

 

A peine arrivé dans la boite, la réceptionniste m’invita chez elle, mariée deux enfants, Un mignonne petite blonde femme-enfant, j’étais nouveau dans la région son attitude était agréable. Bon, a un moment je me suis demandé ce que je foutais chez elle. S’il n’y avait pas une anguille sous roche. Je lui ait dit que j’était gêné d’être là… elle me dit qu’il fallait pas… J’ai tout de même l’impression que j’ai eu chaud. L’expérience ne fut pas renouvelée.

 

Un jour je vis un belle fille, ah elle te ressemblait !, mais bon, je la vis alors qu’elle sonnait a une porte voisine de mon appart. Je décidait alors de sympathiser avec la locataire du logement voisin espérant par suite rencontré l’amie [prénom effacé]. Ce ne fut pas un franc succès, je fut inviter à participer à un repas au resto avec un petit comité de gens qui se connaissait par boulot interposé, les nouveaux dans une vile cela apitoies toujours un peu. Musicalement la conversation ne colla pas tellement c’est tout de même des ploucs en Province! Il se trouva par la suite que malgré que j’essayait de brancher la [prénom effacé], qui n’en eu absolument rien à foutre, je parlais avec la voisine de logement. Je l’entretenait sur le fait qu’ayant vécu des choses désagréables a Toulouse je souhaitait enfin retrouver une peu d’innocence dans ma vie, des choses plus simples et plus vraies. Elle me disait que c’était possible.

Une fois alors que j’avais proposé a l’aider a monter ses paquets de courses, genre le voisin sympa, j’ai vu le moment alors que j’étais chez elle où elle s’approche de moi dans la limite de la sphère intime. heu, heu, je l’ai vu venir, j’ai fais un pas en arrière. Il n’y eu pas de mots superflus, je pris congé. C’était pas la peine d’insister.

 

J’appris qu’une procédure contre moi avait été faite, au sujet de l’escarmouche de décembre. j’ai imaginé que les parents de Jeanne  avait cette fois préféré prévenir que guérir.. pff, vu le temps qu’avait pris les choses c’était vraiment comme s’il avait pissé dans un violon. Qu’importait maintenant. C’était un retour d’histoire ancienne que j’avais décidé de nier. L’audience de jugement nécessitait ma présence. Je savais que si tu ne t’y rendais pas la peine requise serait appliquée par défaut, c’était une somme d’argent. Il  y avait des papiers a fournir RIB ou quoi d’autres ce fut fait et on je m’en parla plus.

 

Mon contrat se prolonge et par l’office d’hlm j’obtiens un F1 décent peu coûteux et bien arrangé avec cuisine séparé et baignoire (j’aime bien les baignoires). C’est là que je découvre les vertus du savon dans la masturbation, ainsi que l’effet obtenu sur le coin du lavabo. C’est pas facile a expliquer mais il s’agit de se caler l’entre-jambe au-dessus de l’angle de la vasque. Faut savonner un peu ça permet de faire des mouvements sur le rebord. Ça augmente les sensations dans le bas ventre, un peu comme un doigté anal. De même j’aimai bien installer un miroir pour voir l’ensemble.

Bien vite, le contact de quelqu’un me manque et je commence a chercher où sont les putes à Angoulême.

Et même dans d’autres villes a côté.

En fait les seules que l’on trouve a l’extérieur sont des travelos. Lorsque je fis monter celui-ci dans ma voiture nous sommes allé nous isoler il me fit une fellation et contre toute attente je demandait de le sucer a mon tour, il accepta et j’y mis de l’application. à la fin il me dit que je suçait bien. J’étais un peu fier !

C’était la seule chose un peu extravagante que l’on pouvait faire dans la région.

 

Pour les femmes c’était simples elles passaient des annonces dans le journal.

C’est bizarre l’état dans lequel cela me mettait … j’essayai de me convaincre que cela ne valait pas la peine qu’après ça reviendrai au même … et puis l’idée que je ne vaux rien que je ne suis même pas capable d’avoir quelqu’un a moi, que je ne sais même pas si je serai capable d’y faire quelque chose à celle là. Qu’après tout une pute j’ai ai rien a faire si je le fais mal, si je suis juste à me vider les bourses. D’ailleurs certaines me dirent “ah ben, tu avais très envie” Mais qu’elle importance, je ne viens pas te voir parce que j’aime le sexe.

Je crois que je les visitèrent toutes l’une après l’autre, lorsque le tour de la question fut fait. je ne renouvelais pas mes visites. Une d’entre elles fut particulièrement intéressante, enfin je ne compris pas bien tout.

C’était pas une toute jeune. L’accueil consista dans le passage dans la salle de bain pour me laver le sexe, ce qu’elle fit de ses propres mains. Ensuite elle me fit des massages de tout son corps en s’allongeant sur moi. Elle proposa des k7 vidéos pour nous accompagner. Je n’en voulu pas. Puis elle demanda qu’elle position je souhaitait. Je dis : “elle sur moi”. Et là, ce fut trop étrange. elle était totalement dilatée et lubrifiée et courait sur toute la garde tellement que j’avais l’impression que c’était un immense _cholps cholps_ dans un vide aquatique. J’ai tenu 2 minutes… Je ne lui ait dit que c’était bon que je n’en voulais pas davantage. On paye avant. Elle pratiquait la sodomie mais c’était trop cher, mais je le regrette un peu car finalement avec tout ça j’ai jamais sodomisé une femme

Le week-end je faisait des paisseries, le ménage a fond, mon salaire augmentait régulièrement, j’achetait des meubles.

Angoulême c’est très bourgeois mais en même temps très petit, Il y avait une superbe fille que je voyais parfois dans la rue. J’aurai voulu être capable de lui adressé la parole de dire quelque chose de gentil… juste ça, juste je t’ai vu,, me vois tu ?  mais je savais que j’en était pas capable et puis et puis… C’était sûrement une bourge de plus qui allait acheté ses bouquins à France-Loisirs. Je ne suis d’aucun intérêt pour elle.

Vint les appels sur les lignes roses. C’est angoissant d’entendre ces malades laisser des messages. IL y a eu une vois féminine et j’ai appelé la personne, elle habitait en fait juste à côté, j’y suis allé. Elle voulait juste être serrée dans des bras, j’ai rien obtenu de plus et en plus elle était moche comme un genou.

Bon bref, il y avait une serveuse dans une boite, j’essayai d’attirer son attention, mais elle était maqué avec le patron de cette discothèque qui d’ailleurs l’engueulait tout le temps ce qui m’enervait assez. Mais on a sympathisé juste comme un client quoi. Bah une fois elle ma fait la bise juste au moment ou j’avais décidé de partir d’Angoulême.

 

Mes camarades étaient de ces gens simples qui vont dans les discothèques abattoirs/étables préfabriquées.

Toujours pareil une fille blonde t’emballe pour que tu la raccompagnes. Juste pour tirer un coup sur le parking de l’église (véridique) parce que tu as dit quelque chose d’un peu original entre deux verres. Ah la campagne !

Quel âge pouvait’elle avoir ? 17/18 ans. Des cheveux longs bouclés, un visage imparfait sans être moche.

Je lui proposait de nous mettre à l’arrière. J’avais pas envie d’elle. Rapidement il eut fallu la prendre sans protection ; ce qui était de la folie en soi. Je n’avais pas d’érection suffisante… Elle, était décidée. Moi, pas convaincu. Cela était embêtant… je ne désirait pas la renvoyer. Alors j’entrepris de lui faire un cunilingus… Ceci me permettrai d’activé mes pulsions. De faire monter la sauce progressivement. Ainsi psychologiquement prêt je pouvais l’introduire. Elle me fit remarqué qu’elle me trouvait “spécial”.

 

Il y eu une autre fille comme ça, ce fut un peu plus délicat. elle était venue chez moi à la sortie d’un bar cette fois, puis j’étais la à lui tenir les mains a faire des tas de trucs romantique avec. Sans aucun mots, mais je ne la trouvait pas très séduisante et puis elle était un peu space. J’avais entendu qu’elle avait été en hôpital psychiatrique. Je crois que j’avais assez connu le genre avec Jeanne qui faisait l’été garde malade dans les asiles pour autistes.

 

Il y avait une voisine qui était charmante, le même style que [prénom effacé] mais bien plus ferme-enfant. Elle garait sa voiture dans le parking et je lui avait laissé un mot une fois glissé dans la portière où je l’invitait a un anniversaire. J’avais pas eu de réponse suite à ça. Mais le hasard fit qu’elle fut embauchée dans la boite ou je travaillait et elle m’apprécia. Je lui avait offert une K7 d’un compilation des cures que j’avais réalisé (amoureusement)… me déclarant qu’elle adorait ce groupe (comment j’avais deviné ?) Elle avait un copain (musicien)… Un jour sur la fin nous déjeunéres ensemble.

 

Je connut [prénom effacé] dans un bar que je fréquentait, j’étais avec un gars un peu bête…

Gars que je l’avais jeté de chez moi, une fois, parce qu’il disait que les musiciens des groupes que j’écoutait étaientt tous des camés. Je lui avait demandé de se casser avant que je m’énerve, sale con !

Bref, celui ci me fit remarqué une jeune fille à une table et me demanda si je savais comment aborder une nana pareille.. Pff, je ne sais pas je crois que j’ai trouvé sa question trop conne. Et je lui dit , et bien tu vas voir et je suis allé voir la fille et nous avons sympathisé. Les choses en restèrent là. En fait oui tout ceci n’est qu’une question de légèreté. Pour plaire à une fille qu’importe la sincérité. Les filles n’entendes rien a ça. T’es léger tu gagnes. T’es lourd même les vestiaires ne voudront pas de toi. c’est un peu caricatural. Mais tout le monde s’en fout, alors passons.

 

Quelques jours plus tard, je me suis arrangé pour la trouver… genre oh, ben je passait là, et puis le baratin sur “y’a pas de hasard”, et blah et blah et blah, sur qu’il n’y a pas de hasard j’étais là parce que je l’avais cherché.

En fait la nana était de Poitiers et faisait un stage dans l’agence de tourisme juste à côté.

Je lui proposait de venir avec nous le samedi suivant, on irait en boite, etc, enfin les conneries habituelles.

Celle-ci fut partante.

La soirée arriva, tata tata tata… A la fin de la nuit je proposait que tout le monde viennes chez moi. Pour manger des pâtes, les pâtes après une bonne nuit c’est l’idéal, ça te requinque incroyable, ton estomac tiens mieux et tu passes un excellent sommeil derrière. Enfin [prénom effacé] resta chez moi, les autres s’éclipsèrent. Un fille qui s’appelait [prénom effacé] me fit remarqué que j’avais obtenu ce que je voulais au sujet d’[prénom effacé]. Je dis oui. Je suis sûr qu’elle était jalouse. Cela avait beau être une belle blonde, bien foutue, pas totalement niaise. C’était qu’une fille en manque de son père courant après tout ce qui bouge. Une Jeanne bis en latence. Et même si son complexe de supériorité de blonde sexy en patissait. j’en avait rien a foutre d’elle.

C’était la fille d’une responsable dans la boite ou je travaillait et la rumeur disait qu’elle était sortie avec toute l’équipe du bureau.

Il y eu d’ailleurs a un moment une stagiaire espagnole à la boite, qui s’appelait [prénom effacé]. prononce [prénom effacé], en espagne tout est plus compliqué, mais elle était prude, pas sans charme, mais sage. La stagiaire Allemande me parut plus chaude mais bien moins intéressante. Puis je ne me rappelle même plus de son nom, on pourrait supposer qu’elle s’appelait [prénom effacé].

Ben quoi, j’essayai juste de m’intéresser aux filles, pour une fois que ca me prenait dans ma vie ! Pour une fois que je n’attendais pas qu’elle s’intéresse à moi, comme par magie. Bon, force est de constater que c’est pas ca qui fait monter plus vite la choucroute.

Bon revenons a [prénom effacé], C’était une grande fille qui suivait une enseignement dans le tourisme. Taille fine, gros seins, peau douce qui avait un petit problème avec la baise. Et puis elle louchait. je lui faisait découvrir la musique que j’écoutais, on s’amusait avec le synthé. Une fois elle n’avait pas envie de tirer une crampe, tandis que moi je bougonnait, elle me dit : “attends je faire quelque chose pour toi”. Il me fit une fellation ! sans être bien experte mais le coeur y était. L’ayant vu de près elle déclara que j’avais une belle queue. (on n’en demandait pas tant !)

elle n’étais pas désagréable, mais ne s’investissait pas beaucoup, me parlait de son ex. elle semblait très indécise.

Ça décollait pas des pâquerettes. Certaines semaines elle n’était pas là, suivant des cours dans une pension a perpetes-les-oies. Mais c’était pas le genre de fille pour laquelle on s’inquiète. Trop prude, trop transparente.

Et d’un autre côté je n’avait jamais connu une fille qui mouillait autant quand on la touchait !

 

Une nuit j’eu un rêve qui me réveilla en me débattant, je donnait des coups de partout et [prénom effacé] en pris. Ce qui me dérangea énormément. Ma crainte était de m’en prendre à elle sans raison. En fait, une crainte au fond de moi, quelque chose qui faisait que je culpabilisait un max. J’avais peur qu’un délire violent me reprennes.

J’avais rêvé qu’un énorme boa constrictor c’était enroulé autour de moi et inexorablement m’étouffait, m’étouffait, m’étouffait.

Je me débattait et celà me fit sortir du cauchemar. Immédiatement en me réveillant je m’inquiétai de savoir si j’avais fait mal à [prénom effacé], je m’excusai comme si je m’en était pris à elle, et c’était exactement l’impression que j’avais. Intérieurement je me disait je ne peux pas rester avec elle je suis trop dangereux. Viendra un temps ou je ne pourrais me contrôler et puis que m’apporte t’elle ? elle baise pas ! la nuit je veux la prendre mais elle se retourne. Elle dort. Elle dort comme un bébé de 5 ans et jamais elle ne me sautes dessus, comme qui le faisait déjà ?

Fut un temps j’avais essayer de la sodomiser, mais décidément je dois manquer de technique. Comment on fait ? “Qu’est ce t’essaye de faire” disait t’elle a demi endormie, puis se tournait et dormait. Et moi “chié” j’avais pourtant envie !

Et ce serpent qui m’avait empêché de respirer, que cela voulait-il dire ?

 

C’est alors que Jeanne appela ! [prénom effacé] n’avait pas été là de la semaine. Jeanne  entama la communication par une phrase du genre “devine qui c’est !” Elle s’excusa de son insolence d’avoir appeler, elle avait trouvé mon numéro de téléphone et n’avait pas pu résister.

On parla un peu. Est-ce cette fois là ou elle me dit qu’elle voulait que je viennes, que je viennes tout de suite.

Je refusait argumentant que je ne le ferait pas. Que cela n’en était pas question ! Elle appella plusieurs fois, dans ces situations, à cinq heures du mat’.

Elle me laissait des messages sur le répondeur. je la rappelait. Nous avions dût établir un code : comme “tu laisses sonner 3 fois” pour ne pas tomber sur la mère.

Jeanne  n’était pas romantique, non pas du tout, elle était romanesque !

A partir de là mon histoire avec [prénom effacé] fut mise de côté, je lui expliquait que je préférait que l’on ne se voit plus. blah blah blah, en fait Jeanne  se manifestait de plus en plus, et je ne pouvais pas avoir deux fers au feu.

 

Un matin Jeanne pris le train et me rendit visite. Elle me raconta plus en détails ces aventures, en fait elle “s’engouinait” selon son expression. Elle s’embrassait avec des copines, puis même une autre fille plus âgée qui soi-disant c’était faite violée jeune et patin et couffin : gouine a la fin.

J’indiquai à un moment que je souhaitais me rapproché d’elle et d’être affectueux. Elle déclina mon initiative et nous en restèrent là. A la fin du week-end je la ramenait en voiture à Toulouse, elle semblait satisfaite d’avoir pu parler. Elle semblait inquiète au sujet de ces relations et assez perturbée.

 

Un matin Jeanne m’appela, elle voulait instamment que je viennes. Il me semble bien qu’elle me raconta qu’elle avait ramené un mec chez elle et que finalement elle l’avait renvoyé. Du coup, il fallait que je viennes parce que … Parce que c’était avec moi qu’elle voulais faire l’amour…

Alors, j’ai fait les 300 bornes Angoulême/Toulouse et au petit matin, j’ai rejoint Jeanne . Elle avait laissé ouvert la maison sa mère qui n’était bien sur pas là, partie en week-end …. je suis monté à l’étage, Je l’ai trouvé dans sa chambre. Je vint près d’elle… Elle semblait dans une demi coma, le jour pointait a l’horizon. Elle ne m’accueillit pas mais savais que j’étais là. En chien de fusil elle semblait plutôt disposée a dormir. Cependant elle m’indiqua ses fesses. Et ce fut moi, en plein éveil, qui fit le reste.

 

Par la suite je fut invité a connaître tout le petit monde des nouvelles connaissances de Jeanne . j’en connaissait les principaux, mais les attitudes semblaient avoir bien changées. Après-midis et soirée, bars homo et séance de bisoudrome dans des apparts. Tout cela restait superficiel à souhait. La plupart du temps vers les 3 heures du mat’, je disait à Jeanne  que j’étais fatigué et que je rentrait… elle me fit remarqué, une fois, que j’aurai pu sortir avec [prénom effacé], une de ses copines. Qu’elle aurait sûrement été partante… Je lui dit que ce n’était pas utile. J’avais connu [prénom effacé] avant mon départ de Toulouse quelque ans auparavant. Je trouvais que comme Jeanne  elle c’était sérieusement enlaidie, sous l’effet de je ne sais quel malaise. [prénom effacé] précédemment avait de magnifique cheveux bouclés qu’elle avait remplacé pour une immonde paillasse décolorée. Tandis que Jeanne  avait des cheveux courts et gras.

A l’une ou l’autre de ces soirées et peut-être une que nous passâmes que tout les deux. elle m’amenait pour dormir après avoir bien profiter de la nuit dans un appart dont une de ces copines lui avait laissé les clés … L’endroit était plaisant, nous dormîmes… Elle m’avait parlé sans cesse de ce film “basic instinct” , je ne l’avais pas vu mais elle m’avait sûrement décrit quelque scènes. Lorsque ses forces furent reconstituée au petit matin elle profita de mon réveil paisible pour me prendre les poignets et me les bloquer, bras en croix. Et venir sur moi aussi bien que toutes les fois où elle avait accomplit ce mouvement. Elle fut assez brève fatiguée où rassasiée je ne sais pas.

N’ayant moi même pas atteint mon apogée, alors qu’elle s’enfonçait à plat ventre dans les oreillers je me redressait derrière elle pour la prendre en levrette et me finir par sa vulve encore chaude.

A aucun moment je n’eu l’autorisation de l’embrasser, même ensuite lorsque nous furent sur le départ. Il n’était pas question d’affection. Elle restait la plupart du temps silencieuse. J’essayai de respecter cet état.

 

Dans la société ou je travaillait, il y avait [prénom effacé]. Une sympathique brune, toujours amicale et plaisante, c’était pas une beauté, une femme ordinaire mais attachante. Celle ci me déclara qu’elle voulais faire l’amour avec moi, même une fois, allons donc : c’est a croire que les filles s’ennuie comme des rates perdues en province !

Elle était mariée et avait deux gosses. Elle vint chez moi boire un café comme ont le fait un de ces 4.

Je la sentait tenaillée par son désir. Je lui expliqua que je ne préférai pas … Que j’étais pas amoureux d’elle et que partant de là… c’était sans objet. Elle en prit son parti.

Je crois que j’ai bien fait car le soir même j’ai vu son mari rôdé dans ma rue. Et je me suis “hé bien celui ci cherche ça femme, mais elle n’est pas ici, ouf !

 

J’en eu un peu marre, de tout ce bazar y compris certains de mes comportements limites.

La fille que je suivit jusque chez elle, et qui me pria d’arrêter ce manège. Celle qui une nuit me demanda de la raccompagner en voiture. A un moment je glissai ma main sur ses genoux et évidement cela jeta un froid.

Il y eu même cette petite qui semblait intéressée, alors que nous discutions pour faire connaissance je lui balance que je battais mon ex et qu’en plus cela lui plaisait ou que j’en étais fier. J’ai bien du dire un truc comme ça, je suis sur. Une bonne façon de dire dégage, petite sotte ! non ?

J’avais besoin de stabilité pensais-je, j’avais un travail, j’allai peut-être faire ma vie, là. Après tout il suffisait de bien mentir a quelqu’un, sinon rien n’arriverait de toute manière.

D’où l’idée des agences matrimoniales. ceci fit long feu. Après deux trois rencontres, je me ravisait et décidait de quitter cete ville. D’aller a Paris, là il y aurait sûrement d’autres gens et pas de ces filles bourgeoises qui se croient le centre du monde (Je suis con des fois).

J’arrivai à Bagneux en février 94, mon premier logement fut un 20 m2 à 2000 Frs, ça fait des comptes ronds. J’avais été obligé d’empiler tout mes meubles par manque de place. Il ne resta qu’un infime passage je ne pouvais ouvrir le clic clac, or de question d’inviter du monde ! Mon espace de vie ce limita donc au canapé !

 

Je pris l’habitude a partir de cette boite, commençant a avoir fréquemment l’usage de clefs, de me masturber dans les locaux d’une société. Un espèce de désir d’exhibition refoulé, dans un endroit public où je me trouve en secret. Ou alors des réminiscences de Jeanne  qui affectionnait ce type de comportements. J’ai parfois imaginé faire l’amour a une personne inventé dans de telles circonstances. Le phénomène avec les prostitués est peut-être plus profondément lié à elle dans ce sens qu’il s’agit de lieux que l’on ne connaît pas à l’avance.

L’insolite est-il sexuel ? Je le crois.

 

Cependant je continuait a me renseigner sur Jeanne. J’appelait des ses copines pour avoir des nouvelles indirectement. Elle travaillait sur Paris, habitait chez son grand-père. Alors, j’allai dans ces coins là, j’avais les adresses, pour… on ne sait jamais.

Puis je fis appeler quelqu’un chez son père, avec un prétexte, pour avoir son adresse personnelle.

Elle était avec un mec et venait d’avoir une fille.

Un soir j’appelait au numéro obtenu, j’ai juste dit : “tu as eu un accident corporel !”

Et elle raccrocha. J’ai du rappeler ou je ne sais, boire une bouteille de champagne , avant… enfin dans un autre appel. Je lui demandait si elle était heureuse ? elle me dit que oui, un oui pour se débarrasser peut-être.

Elle n’avait ni envie de me paler, ni de me voir. C’est clair.

J’ai du être repris par un de mes états pathologiques, encore… j’ai pris la voiture et je suis allé jusqu’où elle habitait, en fait pas très loin dans le sud de la région parisienne, que je considérait comme une de ces coeincidences que l’on peut écarter.

Je sonnait. Dit que je voulais voir Jeanne. Son mec descendit et me parla, alors je lui parla. J’ai du dire des tas de trucs incohérent. Je me suis mis dans l’idée de le mettre en garde que Jeanne  n’était pas quelqu’un de facile a comprendre ou vivre. Qu’il fallait qu’il se méfie d’elle ou quoi encore…

J’ai fini par battre en retraite. A partir de ce jour, je pût me détacher de cette histoire définitivement.

Ce qui ne veux pas dire que je n’eut pas de nouvelles de Jeanne.

 

Je sortit en soirée parisienne une ou deux fois. Je crois que des la première je me suis bourré la gueule, à un moment j’ai cru voir Jeanne assise sur une chaise, j’ai shooté la chaise, il n’y avait personne. Je me suis fais éjecté des lieux, et j’eu droit a un coup de poing, la marque est restée.

Je décidait de ne plus boire, autant.

 

J’aurai pu sortir avec une fille rencontré au Gibus. Je m’étais senti l’envie de parler, pourquoi celle-ci plutôt qu’une autre ? Je ne sais comment j’ai constaté qu’elle était dans mes bras. Chose a laquelle je me pliait plus par gentillesse que par envie. Elle m’appela ensuite me proposant de se revoir, évasivement je fis comprendre que je n’était pas intéressé.

Je décidait de ne plus sortir.

 

Depuis toujours mes parents avait reçu des coups de fils bizarres. Souvent “elle” avait fait appeler d’autres personnes, muets ou anonymes. Je ne crois pas qu’il y ait jamais eu d’insultes, justes des propos incohérents.

La dernière fois ou ma mère me signala ce type d’appel, j’avais déjà emménagé à Montrouge dans un logement un peu plus décent que le précédent et elle me relata ceci :

“Un type à téléphoné de Melun (Seine-et-Marne), une nuit, disant être le copain de Jeanne, que sa femme est mal à cause de moi, et qu’il ne sait pas quoi faire !”.

Je rassurait ma mère sur ce sujet, lui précisant que je n’était pas en contact avec eux, que je n’avait aucune intention de le faire et que cela finirait par se calmer.

Fin des épisodes.

 

Parmi mes collègues de travail, il y avait la standardiste, la quarantaine.. Elle m’avait bien aidé à m’installer.

Un peu plus tard je prenait la suite du logement qu’elle occupait ayant elle même trouvé mieux.

Un soir où j’avais été invité a manger dans une pizzeria avec elle, sa fille et son gendre. Elle me raccompagna jusqu’au bureau ou je voulais récupérer quelque chose.

Dans la voiture avant que je la quitte elle eu un regard bizarre, tendancieux alors quoi que voulait-elle ?

Ce signal me sembla creux et n’y prêtait pas attention.

Le lundi suivant, elle lança à quelqu’un dans le bureau, “oh, mais y’a plus d’hommes !”.

En effet, on peut voir ça comme ça.

 

J’aurai voulu juste avoir des amis, quelque chose sans implications. Et pourtant si cela arrivait à un moment cela ne m’intéressait plus. Je préférait rester chez moi, seul, a me masturber devant la télé.

J’avais l’impression d’être entré dans une longue phase de repli. Je faisait bilan sur bilan.

Dans l’agence ou je travaillait arriva une jeune fille. Des cheveux longs et noirs et une peau blanche incroyable !

J’essayait de me montrer attentionné a son égard. de nous trouver des points communs. Elle était du sud-ouest comme moi.

Parfois j’avais envie de lui donner des bises, si j’y parvenais alors elle me jetait un regard qui marquait sa désapprobation. Je me sentai malchanceux !

Un soir ou nous étions resté un peu tard pour finir un travail, elle me demanda de la raccompagner en voiture chez elle, car les bus ne passait plus.

En discutant de choses et d’autres et de boulot on arriva devant chez elle et alors pour me remercier elle me fit deux bises vraiment attendrissantes.

J’ai du me prendre a fantasmer, je ne sais trop… C’était quelqu’un d’un peu dure qui ne se laisse pas facilement aller à la sensiblerie. Je ne savait comment faire. J’essayai de l’inviter au resto, au ciné, mais elle refusait. De parler musique, mais elle aimait Les Rolling Stones et REM. Elle était vraiment bouchée du bulbe !

Encore dans un de mes délires. Je suis allé devant chez elle un dimanche et j’ai attendu. En fin d’après-midi je la vit rentrer chez elle en compagnie d’une autre fille.

Je me décidai a sonner à son interphone. Personne ne répondit.

Le lundi, elle me signala qu’elle m’avait vu, me reprocha de ne pas avoir prévenu. Je prétextait que j’étais venu juste boire un café un truc comme ça. tata tata tata.

En fait je crois bien qu’elle était gouine…

Lorsque je démissionnai de cette boite, elle accepta une invitation au restaurant. Je me rendis bien compte alors qu’elle n’avait absolument aucune émotivité, aucun affect, qu’elle n’était pas très aimable.

 

Par la suite, j’ai fait de l’intérim, du freelance, et je me suis mis a l’Internet, C’était en pleine ébullition. Internet Explorer n’existait pas encore ! a peine Netscape 1 ou 2 et les autres services du Web : forums de news, IRC. Le repli sur moi-même fut encore plus profond. Je réalisait que je n’avais jamais pu compter que sur moi-même que chaque chose que j’avais voulu je ne le devais à personne. En quelques mois je devais apprendre un nouveau métier. La réalisation de sites Web. et j’étais bien décidé à me faire connaître dans ce secteur.

 

J’ai du aller voir les putes aussi une ou deux fois. Mais ce qui me suffisait la plupart du temps c’était de sillonner les rues la nuit de voir ces filles ou ces travelos et de rentrer chez moi sans en avoir pris aucune (aucun).

J’écoutais aussi les réseaux téléphoniques roses ou bien les gratuits d’annonces. Parfois j’essayai d’appeler.

La plupart du temps les lignes sont décrochées.

Pour certaines annonces, en fait, la fille envoit des photos cochonnes d’elle (pas sur).

Je me masturbait sur ces photos et au bout d’un temps les jetait. Contre paiement tu peux en avoir d’avantages …

Lors d’un appel, je tombais sur une fille qui pour une modique somme me proposait de venir chez elle. C’était dans la banlieue proche. Je m’y rendit… Elle était une maison son mec était là. Apparemment chômeurs, cela semblait être quelque marginaux, Ils écoutait U2. Le gars semblait perdu dans quelques absences fumigènes. Il sortit.

Alors que nous étions dans la chambre. la nana m’expliqua que son mec avait un problème et qu’il n’arrivait pas à la satisfaire, qu’ils avaient hérité de cette maison mais qu’ils ne s’en sortaient pas. Ceci pour tout cela.

Je la prit par deux fois. Elle eut une attitude bizarrement affectueuse. Me déclarant que l’on lui avait retiré la garde de son gosse et que son ex: s’appelait [prénom effacé]. Ceci pour tout cela.

J’eus envie de la revoir, l’appelant. Elle, acceptant. Moi, finalement y renonçant.

 

Je détestai les week-ends profondément, je détestai tout d’ailleurs. A Angoulême j’avais commencé a faire une chose, qui consistait à chercher dans l’annuaire des noms de filles pour les appeler et a débiter alors des insanités.

Du genre : “tu as envie de te faire sauter”, “tu mouilles salope !” J’ai pas souvent du être très original.

Dans ces temps là, J’appelait au hasard. Tandis qu’ensuite ce fut particulièrement le prénom _Jeanne _.

Dés que j’en trouvai une fallait que je l’appelle, je ne pouvais pas me retenir. Après je les insultait tant que je pouvais, plusieurs fois de suite. Jusqu’à que je me sentes mieux.

“Tu veux te faire bourrer, hein tu adores ça !”.

Tant de haine en moi, de désespoir, de misère.

Puis commença l’exploration des bas fonds de l’Internet… Enfin c’était pas pire il y avait enfin un peu de communication dans ma vie à défaut de communion.

Cela pouvait être du genre en discutant sur IRC avec une fille que celle-ci m’appelat. J’avais du dire que j’étais chef d’entreprise et peut-être cherchait t’elle plutôt du boulot… J’imagine ce qu’elle aurait pu être prête a faire si j’en avais eu a lui proposé.

Dés le début j’avais été en contact avec Cathie … elle m’avait aidé a configurer ma machine pour que je puisse progresser normalement sur le Web. Cela n’avait pas dépassé 2/3 mails d’un contenu purement technique.

Parallèlement je faisait du freelance. Et j’étais très occupé pour gagner un peu d’argent.

Dans l’ensemble je dépensai plus que ce que je gagnai. Mais je ne m’inquiétait pas trop.

Il y eu une relation suivie avec une Québécoise, croisé sur IRC, on s’y retrouvait de façon régulière. De fil en aiguille on se passionna l’un pour l’autre. J’y passait des nuits entière a discuter. On s’écrivit : J’envoyait des k7 elle m’envoya du chocolat et des cigarettes locales. je ne pensait plus qu’a elle. Parfois nous nous faisons des films érotiques, on s’imaginait faire l’amour ensemble et on décrivait nos ébats. C’était chaud et ça durait des heures ! On s’appela au téléphone, surtout moi, une ou deux fois.

Un jour, je constatait par sa page Web que Cathie  avait trouvé un job, tout près de [ville effacée], je décidais de la recontacté.

 

Parfois plus par nécessité d’être rassuré sur ma virilité, j’allais dans Paris. Dans ces quartiers qui sont arpentés, dans les horaires nocturnes, par des dames en déshabillé. Cette fois c’était du côté de l’Etoile. Secteur des putes de luxe. Juste pour le coup d’oeil. J’avais laissé la voiture, désirant m’enquérir de plus près de l’aspect et des prix.

Des femmes mûres dans les 1200 frs la passe. C’est l’amour en appartement ou dans un parking. Le speech agréémenté de commentaires du genre “je suce bien” ou “tu en auras pour ton argent”.

Enfin plus de 1000 frs c’est hors de portée. Je vais réfléchir dis-je pour ne pas vexer.

Dans une des rues principales, une grande blonde assez jeune et remarquable tiens la pose. Demande les tarifs. 500 Frs entends-je ! je suis surpris et n’y croyant pas je dis ok !

Alors la fille me fait monter dans une Mercédés qui conduite par une autre femme habillé selon les circonstances démarre et part dans un périple qui semble bien compliqué. Les événements me semblent exagérés par rapport à l’accoutumé. Dans ces situations je ne suis pas bavard.

Allons donc. nous arrivons dans l’appartement. C’est là alors qu’il faut payer que je comprend qu’il y a méprise… sur le prix à payer. 1500 frs !

A présent je désire m’en aller, je dis que je suis surpris. J’essaye de me sortir de cette situation. La blonde est une espèce de Bimbo avec des seins comme des melons, la vieille parait être une de ces matrones a qui ont ne la fait pas.

Celle ci s’absente dans une pièce voisine, apparemment il y a du monde dans l’appart et j’ai intérêt a trouver une solution rapido sinon ça va pas aller en s’améliorant.

La femme rapporte quelques menaces, la bimbo fait miroiter que des seins comme les siens, ça se mérite !

Elles admettent que j’ai pas l’argent sur moi, qu’a cela ne tienne. Nous allons aller au distributeur le plus proche pour compléter la somme.

Les deux me serrent de près, pas besoin d’avoir l’intention de m’échapper. Le premier distributeur ne m’autorise pas a dépasser un plafond qui ne me permet pas d’obtenir la somme voulue. Qu’a cela ne tienne il y a d’autres distributeurs. L’argent que je dispose en banque n’est pas important, l’informatique le sait et donc il bride.

Mais comme bien souvent dans un faible intervalle de temps, on peut tricher en passant d’une borne bancaire à une autre.

Je suis conduit intimement vers un autre appareil et dans l’euphorie des deux dames, me pressant, je retire bien plus que nécessaire. Elles auront eu 2000 balles en poche en un rien de temps.

La vieille m’annonce que je ne serai pas déçu et que maintenant elles vont bien s’occuper de moi.

Ces deux me font plus peur qu’elles ne me donne envie de les tirer. La plus âgée qui commande les opérations effrayerait un gamin. La pulpeuse a un niveau intellectuel comparable à un lavomatic.

Revenus sur le théâtre des opérations, la Bimbo fait son exhib. et en un rien de temps le bonne femme m’équipe d’un préservatif et entame une fellation.

Finalement la blonde plaquée dans mon dos n’en fait pas plus que ça. La vieille en quelques commentaires sur ma vigueur s’acharne goulûment sur ma verge.

Je me dis que je vais jouir dans sa bouche le plus rapidement possible et ainsi je pourrais partir sans demander mon reste. Curieusement pour une fois je trouve que tout prend trop de temps.

Aller ! fout lui ta giclée et que l’on parle plus.

Heureusement tout a une fin. Le départ et le raccompagnement arrive enfin.

Et c’est sans tambours, ni trompettes que je regagne ma voiture.

Pour le coup je suis bien décidé a ne plus m’y laissé prendre. J’ai plus une thune. Ça va être dramatique de réparer financièrement cette grosse bourde. L’impression ma foi de m’être bien fait baisé !

 

Ne pouvant plus payer mon loyer, sentant la bérésina devenir inéluctable je me rabattit sur Cathie, après maints palabres par email, elle finit par me téléphoner. En peu de temps, m’invite chez elle pour mon anniversaire.

Je la vit, elle ne me plaisait pas du tout. Mais j’allais faire un effort. Hein, là ! J’ai débarqué chez elle à la fin 96.

Je continuait mes activités freelance, mais bien vite elle désira stabilisé ma situation. Elle travaillait dans une boite Internet et je put y rentrer puisqu’ils cherchait un graphiste. Comme quoi lorsque l’on souhaite quelque chose tout les coups sont permis. Par ailleurs la situation était gratifiante dans plusieurs domaines je me stabilisait, je devenais plus responsable. Cathie est quelqu’un de légaliste. Toujours un esprit d’équité, de règle. Mais bon, dés le début je préférai me masturber que de lui sauter dessus. Notre phase “on est amoureux et on fait ça tout le temps (pas partout)” fut brève. Très vite elle avait fait le nécessaire pour assurer une sexualité protégée mais naturelle, dépistage, stérilet. Je trouvait très intéressant de la suivre dans cette organisation. Cela ressmblait a tou ce que j’avais toujours voulu, en avait la couleur, mais pas le goût, certes. Cathie étant une maniaque des urgences (franchement quand il y a urgence c’est pas là qu’il faut aller). Nous étions ensemble pour toutes les activités de la vie quotidienne et même au boulot… Elle m’incitait a respecter les horaires, aller chercher [prénom effacé] à l’école. Une vie réglée, carrée, sans surprise.

Mais j’appréciait les choses a leurs justes valeurs, cela me sécurisait, me permit de remonter la pente avec quiétude.

Nos arrangements financiers était remarquables, Assurément elle aime les chiffres alors que je les détestent.

En tout les cas, cela m’assura à nouveau, au fur et à mesure, un budget musique/cd… J’en profitait tant et plus. Lorsque je ramenait quelque chose de nouveau comme _Cranes_ . J’avais beau dire que c’était génial. elle n’y prêtait pas le moindre intérêt. Alors je restais seul avec la musique.

Elle préférait suivre n’importe quoi à la tv ou écouter France-Infos.

 

Au début, nous furent contraints de vivre à 3 dans un 32 m2, la seule chambre étant réservé à [prénom effacé]. Nous dormions dans le salon sur un espèce de truc épouvantable qui mettait un mal de dos terrible.

Ce jeu là en valait l’économie de bouts de chandelle !

Après maintes visites dans les environs de [ville effacée], la ville ou nous travaillions. Nous finirent par dégottés une “petite” maison en fait un mobilhome dans un ex-camping. Un lieu de villégiature pour certains retraités et que beaucoup avait transformés en lieu de résidence principale, un peu à l’américaine. Le loyer n’était pas excessif pour le jardin dont nous disposition. J’ai adoré pendant cette période être dehors a défriché, arranger l’espace, bricoler ! Ainsi je passait mon temps dehors. J’avais toujours une bonne raison pour ne pas l’accompagner ici ou là le week-end. Bien sur je ne pouvais pas couper à tout. J’admet que dans un couple il est parfois bon je laisser du lest. Mais peut importe comment les choses se font, l’important c’est pourquoi !

 

Un jour elle me proposa le mariage, bien qu’ayant toujours imaginé que je ne désirai pas rester toute ma vie avec elle. J’ai accepté, un peu par curiosité, beaucoup par faiblesse. J’imaginai que ma vie en resterait a cet état là, ma foi je ne vois jamais bien loin…

D’ailleurs je correspondait encore avec l’amie Québécoise, du jour au lendemain qu’elle apprit mon mariage elle arrêta d’écrire, rien n’y fit. (c’est a se demander a quoi sert d’essayer d’avoir des relations humaines normales).

 

Nous avions parlé du désir d’enfants, elle était pour, mais plus tard. Le temps qu’elle soit installée dans un travail. Moi, j’ai dit que je voulais en avoir aussi, mais je ne suis pas sur d’avoir dit que j’en voulais avec elle.

De plus, j’étais pas toujours d’accord sur l’éducation d’[prénom effacé], et puis je ne suis pas son père et donc c’est donc toujours difficile de donner une opinion dans une situation où on n’as pas toujours été concerné.

J’ai pensé que dans l’idéal je souhaitai avoir mon ou mes propres enfants et c’est tout, manifestement là ce n’était pas possible.

 

Cathie  ne boit pas, ne fume pas (d’ailleurs je devais fumer mes cigarettes dehors – elle espérait que j’arrête), ne va pas dans des endroits insolites. Le dimanche, elle allait a ses séances de secte. Moi je me masturbait dans le jardin ! un peu d’eau et de savon étant toujours indispensable.

C’était bateau, mais c’était cool !

 

Puis la boite ou nous travaillions cessa ses activités. Nous trouvâmes du boulot sur Paris. Il devenait essentiel de trouver un nouveau logement. Nous allions à présent vivre en appartement.

Cathie devenait très carriériste, son sens des affaires et de l’argent. Moi je préférait une petite boite sympa qui ne m’avait pas fait la meilleure offre mais me permettait de miser sur la tranquillité et la possibilité de faire ce qui me plaît. Finalement je penses avoir fait le meilleur choix possible. Meilleur que les siens.

 

Nos rapports sexuels était du genre : je te suce avant, tu me prends après. Je te suce, tu me prends. Je te suce, tu me prends, enfin non pas toujours… J’étudiais les positions. Je profitai de sa docilité pour explorer plus avant.

Un jour elle avait acheté de la vaseline. Elle l’utilisa principalement pour me masturber, mais s’il y avait d’autres usages cela ne m’était pas venu à l’esprit immédiatement.

La pénétration était aisée, sensation peut-être du à la maternité ; je ne sais pas, je n’ai jamais expérimenté cette évolution chez une femme.

Je tentai la sodomie ; elle me dit : “elle est trop grosse pour un si petit trou”.

Sur la fin, il suffisait qu’elle ailles se coucher et moi tandis que restant à veiller devant la télé, après un moment, je m’installait avec tout l’attirail nécessaire : serviette, bol d’eau savonneuse pour m’accomplir. J’ai manqué une fois de me faire surprendre. Ca te fais quoi si je te dis que je pensais a toi a ces instants là ?

Bah, même sans je pensai à toi et peut-être a d’autres qui sait ! Ca change quoi ?

C’est comme boire, manger, chier, vomir, pondre des gosses. Et encore tu peux avoir ta boisson préférée, ton plat favori. Pour le reste on fait comme on peut. Choisir ce que l’on ingurgite, ah oui ca c’est vraiment trop beau !

Mais toujours possible.

Puis au printemps 99 – Marie arriva. Tu connais là, mais j’ai à dire.

J’avais toujours cherché par le net a faire de nouvelles connaissances. Quelques correspondances qui bien souvent s’achevait vite. Je surveillait les forums. toujours prêts a détecté le message qui me permetrrai d’entamer une discussion. A l’époque on ne sait pas trop où les gothiques se terraient.

Avec toi, là, nous étions pil’poil dans le sujet qui me passionnait.

Bah, même si je ne faisait pas de vague a ce sujet dans ma vie de tout les jours. Je considérait la chose comme un jardin secret que je ne pouvais partager avec personne. Tu vois par tout ce que tu viens de lire. Ce sujet avait généré la plus belle période de ma vie. Comment toute cette légéreté que j’avais pu touché du doigt, une fois, m’avait finalement quitté à nouveau. En passant par des aléas improbables.

En fait l’amour ca n’existe pas. Ou ce que j’appelai de mes voeux ce n’est pas ca. Cela s’appelle le fusionnel. Et ceci passe par tant de condition que c’est normal de ne l’avoir jamais trouvé sur mon chemin.

Or, je n’était même plus capable d’imaginer comment ceci peut s’atteindre. J’avais plus de aucune croyance en ce domaine.

Toi, tu as réveillé cela. Sans le faire exprès. Sommes-nous comme des pélerins sur un chemin semé d’embûches. Regarde-moi. Je suis truffé, criblé d’erreurs impardonnables.

Au fil des semaines de notre correspondance je ne suis aperçu qu’il y avait cette innocence, une innocente disponibilité attachante. Et surtout cette fantaisie, Ah la fantaisie comme elle m’avait manqué ! Tu sais.

Comme j’apréçiait de pouvoir parler d’autre chose que de l’aspect matériel de la vie, du trivial ! Autre chose que des Cathinades ! Puis je retrouvais des choses en moi que j’avais laissé tomber, soudain peut-être je m’aimai mieux :)

Puis “on” a voulu se voir. Peut-être plutôt juste “tu”. J’espèrait au minimum que tu me trouves suffisament bien pour continuer à explorer cette relation. J’avais à sortir lentement d’une léthargie pour trouver a nouveau ma voie.

Puis tu n’as plus rien dit. Je me suis dit ca y est ! On me fait comprendre a nouveau que je ne vaux rien. Que j’ai une tête a qui on ne prête pas. Pas même un peu d’amitié.

Alors j’ai déliré, déliré comme du temps de [prénom effacé] . Divagué sur les vagues de la confusion.

J’avais vu dans tes yeux tout ton malaise. Tout les malheurs de Jeanne  (expression). Qui revenait et montait en moi, a me submergé. Dans ma paranoia, j’ai consulté tes mails et j’ai compris tout ce que je n’avais pas vu venir. Que tu me manquait, trahissait et me faisait un mal que je ne put contenir… Une [prénom effacé]  bis se profilait. J’ai écrit ce mail qui me suicidait électroniquement. Et pendant une semaine j’ai eu la nausée semblable a mes nausées toutes ces années durant. J’ai pris pornography avec moi, peut-être ai-je toujours trop écouté ce disque, peut-être j’y calque trop ma vie où alors est-ce lui qui se fond parfaitement en moi. Je ne désirais plus entendre autre chose. tout s’arrêta là en 8 titres. Mais il y a quelque chose de fondamentalment positif dans ce disque, l’essentiel.

Tout ce que je suis et rien d’autre, seulement moi.

Alors j’ai pensé comme j’avais pensé pour Jeanne. J’ai pensé si tu as besoin de moi, je serai là. Peut-être une vision déformée, peut-être, mais surtout une conviction, telle !

Je suis revenu, parce que je voulais t’aider. je ne savais pas encore de quoi, ni comment. Mais je devais veiller sur toi. Pour que on ne te vois pas tel que j’ai été et que tu deviennes pas ce que je suis.

Je devais rattrapper toutes ces années où je n’avais jamais su comment prendre les choses. Je devais aussi me racheter de mes fautes. Tu devenais une raison fondementale pour que ma vie ai un sens.

Tu es partie, mais j’avais encore cette conviction que tu reviendrais. Alors peut-être que par dessus l’affection, cette volonté de te tenir la main et venu se greffer de l’amour. Je ne suis qu’un homme…

je pensais a toi tout le temps, serein. La chose la plus importante était que je puisse faire quelque chose pour toi, quelque chose d’extraordinairement positif et que j’espérait beau. J’étais comme un chrétien qui décide de construire une cathédrale pour la madone. Or je ne sais faire que des sites web et des dessins. Alors c’est ce que j’ai fait en y mettant le meilleur de moi-même. Ce meilleur que l’on m’avait fait détesté, je le donnait a nouveau. Pour moi c’était insensé, mais salvateur.

A ton étoile !

Il y a en toi un peu de toutes des filles ou garçons que j’ai connu, c’est ta richesse face à l’univers. Car même les plus insignifiantes sont là en moi. Elles font parties de ma vie affective comme toi.

Que je les aies peu où beaucoup aimées. Elles représentent souvent le meilleur de moi-même et parfois le pire.

Et je ne peux les oublier. Peut-être qu’a un moment il faut dépasser cela, sinon, comment trouver la force de donner sans partage. Mais j’ai voulu te les faire connaitre. Pas pour que tu leur ressembles, pas pour que tu fasses comme elles. Mais pour qu’une connaissance se manifeste. Pour que je puisse passer a travers elles (au sens figuré cette fois) vers moi. Une forme de résurrection. (heu pas érection hein !)

En septembre 2000, Cathie  me chassait. Je ne rentrais plus à la maison je passait toutes mes nuits et mes week-end au bureau pour monter ce site.

Puis bien avant j’avais entamé le tableau. Septembre, novembre, décembre, janvier 2001 – rien n’était prêt, c’est comme si je n’avais rien eu a donner. Tu revenais trop tôt. C’est comme si cela avait été moi, à l’intérieur, qui n’avait pas été prêt.

Mes cathédrales étaient des ébauches, mes rêves du papier. Tout ceci n’avait peut-être pas de sens. La vie avait autre chose a m’apprendre et la vie avancait a pas pressés.

J’avais foi, j’avais foi en le meilleur qu’il y a en moi. Est-ce pour éprouvé cette foi que je fut parfois tenté au pire.

Combien de temps allais-je tenir ? 6 mois, un an. J’aurai tenu 10 ans s’il le fallait.

Je ne sais pas comment je fais pour savoir et ressentir parfois des choses a ton sujet. je suppose que je me mets dans un tel état d’empathie (merci pour le mot) que j’arrive à voir des choses qui semble incroyable.

Il vaut mieux que j’arrête ca, je finit par me perdre moi-même.

Je suis revenu a des chose plus simples, comme la parole et l’écrit. Parce que c’est cent fois plus efficace.

Puis tu as accepter de me voir, dans le principe. Mais je ne veux pas prendre le risque de parfois ne pas savoir donner. Parce qu’il y a en moi cette possibilté que je ne puisse me pardonner d’être ce que je suis. Je veux être sur que l’on se verait pour de bonnes raisons, des raisons légéres, futiles, agréables, innocentes. Comme avant au temps de l’âge d’or. Je le souhaite encore mais je voulais que tu considères que ma vie n’avait pas été simple que mon coeur avait été endurci. Si dur qu’il me faisait peur a moi-même.

J’ai une soif d’absolu, comme tout le monde. Un désir de trouver une sérénité, un calme intérieur.

Je prie pour mon besoin de donner le meilleur de moi-même sans rien attendre en retour.

Que toute cette merde que tu viens de lire ne se reproduise plus.

Parfois je me sens faible, parfois j’appelle au secours. Qu’un rien puisse m’aider et me permette de garder confiance.

Il est évident que je souhaite, enfin, connaitre un amour fort, aussi fort que possible, mais pas destructeur.

J’ai assez souffert je crois et je suis fatigué.

Puis la question c’est toujours la même, c’est qui ? où est-elle ?

Je devais te dire tout ceci, car je réclame ton pardon. Je ne crois pas en Dieu en tout les cas je n’attends pas d’absolution de sa part. Ce n’est pas à lui que j’ai fait du mal.

J’ai fais du mal à mon humanité et je veux de tout mon coeur boire le remède.

Non mais là ca va pas j’ai reécrit pornography in extenso et en Français.

Je crois que j’aurai aussi besoin de vacances.

Il y a longtemps lorsque j’avais huit ans, une chinoise ou vietnamienne qui était la femme d’un gendarme.

m’as dit : “tu vivras avec une belle femme”.

Je n’ai jamais pu croire a ceci.

Jean

How could we miss someone as dumb as this?

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Les liaisons dangereuses, ou quand un ex-conjoint abusif crie à la secte

En dépit du fait que les psychopathes dévastent tout et tout le monde sur leur passage, y compris les femmes et les enfants qui les aiment, pourquoi les cliniciens n’ont-ils pas jugé bon d’étudier et de parler, dans leurs écrits, de la source la plus évidente de compréhension de ce problème : les personnes ayant survécu à des relations intimes avec des psychopathes ? L’étude de toute maladie implique la collecte et l’analyse minutieuse de ses symptômes, et la psychopathie est assurément une maladie sociétale. Même notre système judiciaire rassemble des informations sur les criminels en recueillant sur place des récits de témoins directs. Alors, à nouveau : pourquoi n’existe t-il pas d’informations cliniques sur – et encore moins d’intérêt pour – les compagnes des psychopathes ?

Je pense qu’une des réponses est : les thérapeutes ne les reconnaissent pas comme victimes de la psychopathie car, en général, ils ne reconnaissent pas leurs compagnons comme psychopathes ! Les rares fois où des victimes de psychopathes sont identifiées, elle sont mises dans le même sac que les survivantes de violences domestiques plus typiques ; ou bien étiquetées « co-dépendantes », accro aux relations/sexe ; et/ou encore étiquetées comme souffrant du Trouble de la personnalité dépendante. Ces explications données aux relations amoureuses pathologiques, explications inexactes et souvent fondées sur des préjugés, n’aident pas les victimes à trouver un traitement spécifique à leur dynamique relationnelle atypique et aux symptômes qui en résultent, pas plus qu’elles ne contribuent (comme elles le pourraient) à nos connaissances en matière de psychopathie elle-même. Il est grotesque que, dans le milieu médical, les victimes ne soient pas plus plus facilement identifiées ou mieux comprises, et que cette source abondante d’informations vitales ne soit pas exploitée. Continue reading

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Dangerous Liaisons: French Woman’s Abusive Ex-Partner Screams “Cult!”

Despite the fact that psychopaths devastate everyone in their path including the women and children who love them, why have clinicians not seen fit to study and write about the single most obvious source of insight into this issue: the survivors of intimate relationships with psychopaths? The study of any disease involves carefully collecting and examining its symptoms, and psychopathy is definitely a societal disease. Even our legal system gathers information about criminals by taking testimony from on-site, first hand witnesses. So again, I ask: why is there no clinical material about – much less interest in – the psychopath’s partner?

I think that one answer is: therapists don’t recognize her as a victim of psychopathy because they usually don’t recognize him as a psychopath! On the rare occasion when a psychopath’s victim is identified, she is lumped together with more typical domestic violence survivors; or labeled as codependent, a relationship/sex addict, and/or assumed to be suffering dependent personality-disorder. These inaccurate and often biased explanations of pathological love relationships have neither helped victims find specific treatment for their unique relationship dynamics and aftermath symptoms, nor have they contributed (as they could) to our knowledge of psychopathy itself. It’s a travesty within the clinical profession that the victims are not more readily identified or better understood and that this rich source of vital information has not been mined. Continue reading

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The Secret History of ‘Jean’

At present, we are being attacked and defamed publicly by a certain individual living in our local community. For now we’ll call him ‘Jean’. ‘Jean’s'  hate campaign against us began in November of 2010 and has been escalating since then.

‘Jean’ has made false accusations against us to the court in his child custody case, accusing Laura Knight-Jadczyk of running a ‘cult’ and exerting undue influence over his former partner (who we will call ‘Marie’), causing her to separate from him. This is completely false in every respect. The facts are that ‘Jean’, by his own admission (documented below), has a history of sexual perversion, stalking women, and violence. It is for those reasons that ‘Marie’ chose to end her relationship with him.

‘Marie’ was given emotional support and practical advice by a group of her women friends which includes Laura Knight-Jadczyk. ‘Jean’ stole the content of ‘Marie’s’ computer and read this advice she was given by her friends. ‘Jean’ then began his vicious hate campaign against Laura Knight-Jadczyk, her husband, her colleagues and friends, as a means to take revenge and also to try to coerce ‘Marie’ to reconcile with him.

The following is a ‘confession’ written by Jean to Marie in 2002, when he was approximately 35 years old and she was approximately 23. All the names of all others in this ‘confession’ have been redacted or changed.  We are making it public (with names redacted) in an effort to expose the truth about the nature of ‘Jean’s’ accusations against us.

Caveat lector: the ‘confession’ you are about to read contains several disturbing descriptions of pathological behavior. We believe it is important to read the entire document attentively, as it provides a good example of the inner landscape of the mind of a pathological individual.

To read more complete details concerning ‘Jean’s’ defamation campaign, you can visit this link.

To read ‘Marie’s’ story and all she has had to endure from  ‘Jean’, you will want to read her testimonial here.

We have translated ‘Jean’s’ ‘confession’ from the original French, which can be found here. While our translation has included efforts to correct the numerous grammatical errors and incoherent style of the original text, we have in no way changed the original meaning.

Consciousness or my emotional, shitty life.

by ‘Jean’

Of course I feel guilty. That’s a given! I can not be my own lawyer. I have no doubt that what I have done all my life is rubbish. I may not be responsible for everything, but I am conscious and therefore reprehensible. It starts with the first young erotic awakening. My mother still has this silly habit of making me sleep with other children … lack of room, lack of beds, lack of what exactly?

I was in love with my cousin one night when the family was there … I had asked her to come down. I guess that with her at 15-16 years of age, she could not imagine what was happening in the mind of a boy of 9-10 years old. I wanted to kiss her. I raised my head to reach her mouth. And she just said  to me this was not possible. End of the session.

My brother, who was 11 years old, was in a boarding school during the week, left his porn comics lying around. Drawings in black and white with caricatures of anatomy. Scenes without nuances, etc.. etc.. I do not think I was pubescent at that time. One day my mother surprised me with this book that I tried to hide and she forbid me to “read” this, without further comment. These kinds of books disappeared from my environment.

My older sister… must have been running away from the house; incidents for which I knew neither the reason nor the meaning, except that it caused  huge chaos at home, my parents yelling, locking themselves up in my sister’s room with her for endless explanations. Over time a “scientific” book on the reproductive system appeared in the house, these were unofficially authorized since they were destined for my sister’s use.

Then one night my body woke up, I was in a state! Probably assailed by a surge of hormones. I must have twisted and turned 300 times in bed, long, wide, across to the east, west, north, south … disorientated! I finally landed at the foot of the bed and woke up. While I was in a semi comatose state on the floor, following the noise of the fall, my mother arrived, and asked me if everything was OK. I have to say I did not know what had happened. And without explanation I went back to my bed. End of the experience. I still have that feeling of having experienced something uncontrollable and violent. Even though the nature of this event was not sexual, hairs do not start to grow and penis to stiffen just like that, out of the blue. Later, I must have tied everything together, unconsciously mixing it with the circumcision and other abuses.

Finally my sister became pregnant; there was a wedding, the couple moved into the apartment just above the family’s one. My sister, about 17-18 years old, was younger than her husband. He was a blond guy from the public services, an Italian sounding family name. I was judged even more mature than him … We were in the 70′s – long hair and bell bottom trousers.

Obviously I was always around, the one accompanying, helping out, watching how things are done. Without rights. I was there after the birth of the baby, a little girl who was called [name redacted]. To see her eyes still blind, and her little hand grabbing my finger, and pressing her fingers perfectly glued together. I sometimes dreamed that I wanted a little sister, to take care of her, cuddle her; her name would be [redacted]. I loved my niece, to have fun with her. And sometimes my sister had been like that with me too, so it was all very natural. But sometimes there was trouble upstairs… the broom wasn’t just for gathering the dust. Blah, I was rather carefree, there were friends around my age to go play with in the neighborhood. Especially my friend [name redacted 1], before he lived in a flat above us, but he had moved not very far. He was a year younger than me, but was bigger and stronger. We spent great afternoons together with his brother. I adored them, we never had a fight, it was always harmony between us. His mother was a beautiful brunette who over time appeared to me to be more than generous and sweet but also hot … Sometimes I glanced at the conjugal bed through the door before going into the room with my buddy. We were always at his place or outside when the weather was nice, never at my place.

There were other kids to play with. Playing at ‘house’ or whatever. (Name redacted 2) and his brother who was crying all the time (their mother was a hysteric who drank all day. Once she had an epileptic fit in the stairway of the building). (Name redacted 3), the little fat kid, she had two older brothers, her father was a policeman like mine, (there was not enough room in the barracks for families, so we lived in town). Then some other friends whose names I can not remember. Time passed, looking at the adults who fought, or who would come and yell at us for this or that. The land beside the building always had tall grass that was ideal to hide in. And it was always sad when some adults decided to mow it all… But it would grow again and it was good. I was with (Name redacted 2), and I do not know how but we both fell on the ground one day… um, surely we quarreled about a stone or a piece of wood. While falling, she ended up stuck under me. There was probably only two or three years between us. I looked into her eyes, it seemed like a movie, where after a moment of floating, the guy kisses the chick. It seems to me that we were perfectly against each other and our bodies perfectly fit together. I really do not know, but in my memory of the scene I held her wrists, lost in the tall grass. She did not struggle, just looked into my eyes. She probably saw the same movies as me, so was she maybe open for a kiss? She waited for my verdict. I guess a normal boy – even at 10 years old – would have followed the script. Even risking being slapped – after all it is sometimes like that in the movies. I released her, embarrassed and distant… One could perhaps see this in French movies.

But on the other hand, so far so good, nothing really dramatic … I even experienced my first love turmoils at the time. Anecdotes may illustrate this. I did not shy away from girls, perhaps because the distinction was not clear. On the occasion of children’s games, I had found a girl to my taste. I had just started to learn to ride a bike, I was already an independent little boy. At the end of the day I proposed to take her home on our bicycles, though I did not have permission to go beyond a certain perimeter. How I respected my mother’s rules! What is sad is that some time later when I stumbled upon her in the schoolyard, she pretend not to recognize me. I thought she was really disingenuous. I started to worry about girls. I became, over time, extremely shy. On vacation when I would become friends with a girl of my age, I would end up completely blocked. I felt a pressure settling in, and feelings that I  could not express naturally. Like by kissing or other gestures. Especially under the watchful eye of adults. Watching us, they would comment on the relationship. This inevitably made me blush.

Sometimes I watched over the little ones. My sister had another child … a boy. He was named after a famous singer (my sister has always been bad at choosing names). The problem is not what went on in my mind at this moment. My niece and I are ten years apart exactly, because she is Libra like me. Which means that we were both conceived around the Christmas holidays or a little after. At what blood alcohol level, I couldn’t say exactly.

Today, she just had a baby, she’s been living for a long time with a musician/builder (ah, you see!), [name redacted] refurbished a house in the Tarn et Garonne countryside… His instrument: the bass guitar – his style: the metal genre.

Really sociable people, not like me, we talk about music without a problem. It’s been a long time since I saw them. My niece and my nephew, I’ve inspired them musically very early on (pff, my role must be minimal) when I drove them around ten years ago, 10 or more, when they had fights on the backseat. I would just turn the volume up, to the max. They grumbled because they couldn’t hear themselves talking, it was radical, it calmed down. Bah, [name redacted] would tell me later that in such cases, her parents left them, she and her sister, by the side of the road. And that later on, they had to start therapy to sort out this extreme attitude.

I got the idea to put my penis into her mouth. At 3-4 years, she really couldn’t understand my intentions. It was difficult to attain my goal without raising any concern. Was I reproducing the same behaviour that I had experienced with my brother? I can not even say I had already ejaculated once in my life or felt the need to masturbate. It’s possible that I had asked my brother to do the same to me when we were together. There was no search for pleasure. I do not think I achieved my objective with my niece … I do not remember. But my mother was probably not far away, I think she intervened, noticed something. I do not think that I knew anything more about the issue. It didn’t happen again, and it couldn’t have led to anything else anyway.

After that there was a period where I went on vacation with my cousins. We used to sleep with two children in the same bed. One day my cousins went on vacation with me. Again due to lack of beds, things happened … Of which, rather, I was the instigator. We had a big bed for three, me and my two cousins. And while we were probably just talking about our penises. Of course we probably wanted to understand some things, like between boys you risk nothing and blah, blah. I offered to give them the experience of fellatio. They refused … As for me, I was quite prepared. I was good enough for them. They were just younger than me and so it was smaller in my mouth, quite unconvincing. I did my best. But at our age, this little perversion had the appearance of an orgy.

Never after that did I ask a girl to do anything to me or give me a preference. As a child and till my teenage years, for me, a girl was all about gentleness, understanding, delicacy, sensitivity … Love was a sort of attachment through something indistinct and poetic understanding, although of course I understood that it was technically related to sex… but it was not necessary. At school, I could not stand the custom of pinching girls’ buttocks where boys more “mature” liked to harass the girls. I, on the contrary, could only offer my kindness and be recognized for it, and of course, it never led to anything. Then I realized girls are neither sweet nor sensitive and that they are interested in boys for other reasons, reason that, deep inside me, I could not admit to myself, because they were too ugly and dark, too aggressive. I slowly became more and more inhibited. Of course I can not just state that every girl is only interested in one aspect of a guy; it’s an ensemble. But I think girls conform to a certain type of demand. And all must evolve on that stale ground, somehow. Those who are less favoured by nature watch the others and their lovers. I preferred the company of insecure, ugly, inhibited kids. This is perhaps why I never could stand the people of my age, they were always more complete than I could be. One day, while in sixth grade, I was surprised in class. Because a student had brought a class photo of Primary school (4th year), and the French teacher exclaimed: “But who is this cute little boy!” And it was me! She was surprised, and so was I. I must confess that I was a pimply, anxious and expressionless pre-teen.

I do not think there are male or female characteristics, softness for girls, masculinity for guys. I also never thought that we had to just accept it. But any combination is possible.

Then my brother met his wife. Brand new barracks had been built and all the police families were housed there … I had gradually developed all the techniques of masturbation. It begins with rubbing oneself against the sheets, noticing that it creates sensations. Then proceed to rubbing against the mattress. With more than obstinacy I would eventually start to bleed (the sheets are rough) and, there you are, spots appear, semen mixed with blood. My surgery was serious, because it did not allow me to discover a painless activity in this respect. To avoid visible stains, I discovered penetration between the box spring and the mattress. Blood, semen, everything went down there. And nobody ever looked there. Then in the bathroom … anal penetration with the shower head. And then my mother had a large pen. It was used … I was very worried about my sexual orientation. My relationships with girls were non existent. I even fled from them. I do not think I was considered as someone nice, when seen from afar.

(Name redacted 4) was my brother’s wife… I got along well with her. I was 16 by then. They had just moved into a small house, Later, it would provoke a drama because they’d moved into a flat. And my brother wanted a house. Pff, his wife asked me my opinion so I said: if my brother wants a house, let him have it. Surely the worst idea I ever had. Because eventually they divorced shortly after. Bah, like always, I was always considered as more mature than my brother, calmer, more of all that BS. Wiser? What could I understand about the material interests of a couple, about their insignificance? But back to the beginning of the chronology of this incident. During one of the first family meals that we shared in their small house… Sure enough there were some dirty jokes. I was hot, I was focusing on her, I was in a state… I felt an uncontrollable and violent need to leave the room, I asked where was the toilet. For… My prolonged absence was noticed. End of the episode

I had no contact with others, it was more a question of age, only the company of younger children suited me, we would meet outside, but I stayed at home most of the time. With them, nothing dubious happened. Given my age, it would have been normal to hang around in town, in cafes, etc. … [name redacted], the cousin that I had wanted to kiss once, came to work in my town. I used to go to her place, it felt good … We would spend time talking and that’s it … Suddenly, without knowing why, my mother forbade me to go there … True, she had a reputation for being ”easy”. So what! So much protection. Is it better?

So it was boredom. I would go to the cellar to spend my time doing DIY, it was a good place to be alone. I would masturbate on a picture of Marilyn Monroe, she got me going. I was making sure that no one came. [Name redacted 3] (the little fat one) came down to fetch something in her cellar, which was just beside mine – time had passed, and she had taken on some shape.  She was not the social type, so I didn’t feel lie a special case. I tried to ask her if she wanted … to kiss me, possibly more than that. I think she went back up straight away without taking what she came for. Well, since her mother was a devout Catholic, the incident was probably reported. My situation would remain at this level for a long time.

Then I went to high school – boarding school. At least I started to be confronted daily, day and night, by my generation. I must say that there were some cases there – serious obsessive disorders. To find oneself in a professional boarding school was to meet all the slackers, the dickheads, the loose ones, the retarded, the crooks, all the teen angst of a generation x 10. That’s when I learned you had to fight … sneaky and petty fights where in order to earn a friend, you had to physically fight first, a language of street thugs, etc. But I was still basically a reserved guy, the sympathies of groups remained natural … I realized that I was not that stupid, that I finally had a pronounced enough taste for education. I was better at theory than at practice, was not naturally manual. But doing something concrete  was good for developing one’s thought capacities, understanding the meaning of things. This school you could obtain technical CAP and BEP diplomas and skills. And there weren’t many girls.

Some had girlfriends in their hometown. I saw all this in a very sardonic way. On Wednesday there were no classes, we used to go to the local supermarket, to steal chocolates, cookies … We left, our pockets filled with food, paying for a trifle at the checkout. We then went into the surrounding countryside to consume our loot.  It was a small provincial town and the female population was underrepresented. We had experienced several times group masturbations (though we didn’t mix). Some friends were however quite comfortable with girls during the weekend. We often met together. I had a motorcycle to go downtown, to Montauban. A friend named (Name redacted 5) went out with a girl [name redacted]

(Name redacted 5) was my first musical mentor – Hard rock bands, Led Zep, AC DC, Angel City, then the first punk bands, The Clash, Siouxsie and The Banshees, and the emerging new wave, Jacno, Visage. I had quite strong feelings for him. He was self assured, had strength, serenity. My mother of course did not want me to hang around with him and two or three others. I was starting to have enough of it, and to rebel. Inevitably, as I could not pick on my mother, I would fight with my father. One summer, (Name redacted 5) and his friends had the brilliant idea to go swimming in a lake (large pond). They had persuaded the sister of one of these friends to come with her girlfriends. All afternoon, it was silly games of water fights – forcing their heads under water and you had to defend yourself … The girls were targeted most of the time… Surely they were happy to comply… Probably they wanted to touch each other, without any malice, just having fun and being lively … I found it unbearable. They tried to make me participate, to no avail. In the end, when everybody decided to leave for other activities, I decided to go back  home. The next Monday at school, they all asked me why I had gone back home. I could not answer.

There was this girl (Name redacted 6). She hung around me for a while, telling me that I smelled good. (My mom used to put softener in the laundry), I thought it was a rather poor girly argument. I remained silent and stoic, which was not of great use for her… So she quickly changed her tune and lost interest in what I had to say, (nothing).

I would spend three years in this school. We went from newbies being bullied by older ones to older ones bullying the newbies. It was systematic. Halfway through the term, a new recruit in my class made his appearance – this one had just been expelled from another school. From the very beginning, I didn’t dig him. He sounded too comfortable for someone who had allegedly attempted suicide. But this seemed to impress (Name redacted 5), and they immediately became friends. I followed them, but I was jealous. He monopolized the friendship I had made with (Name redacted 5). So I became withdrawn, I tried not to let myself be taken in by my feelings. Neither of them understood the intricacies of my state, and they laughed at me sometimes. I tried to show nothing. They organized a Christmas Eve party. I had a hard time to get my parents to allow me to go… They had to drop me there and then pick me up the next day … During the party, girls had to comply to forfeits. When some asked for a kiss, I only allowed myself to ask the girl who had been chosen for me if I could kiss her naked foot. Looking back it was more a sign of submission than of manhood … Of course the guys laughed at me.

Then I turned 17. I changed school. The trip there took several hours by train. I had to leave on Sunday evenings to spend the night in trains and stations … It was really a lost place in Correze. What damn shitty country. There, I was taciturn and prostrate, in a state of advanced autism. Some students there were already “men”, i.e. the kind to take pleasure in bullying … most were more mature but still chose to hang around the strongest. It was really a horrible year. I never could find a way to defend myself without  ending up in a confrontation. There were girls in this high school but not in our class. There was a girl that everyone called “sweetie”; she looked like a princess, gentleness incarnate. I dreaded the thought of crossing her path in a hallway, though at the same time I was trying to catch her eye for when I knew she would be at this or that place, according to her schedule… when her class was right beside mine. After one class she was in the classroom next to mine. After another class I could spend an instant walking nonchalantly beside her. But I would never have opened my mouth to emit a noise that I knew would sound disgraceful to her ears. And I couldn’t take the risk of being laughed at by others… ”look at that, Jean is interested in a girl and the most beautiful one, to boot!” All I could do was observe. I perfectly remember a dull Wednesday when there were no classes. When you’re in a boarding school, you really get bored. I noticed the attitude of a guy who brought a girl into the toilets at the other end of the courtyard. The sequence of subsequent events was clear. I felt extremely distant from all of this. To what could I ascribe that type of behaviour? The charm of the boy, the looseness of the girl. Their furtive run to the isolated area looked cheerful. And of course, I certainly was not a cheerful boy. Change would be long, very long, to come.

This place was so unhealthy, and the teaching did not suit me, I had no reason to stay another year. I found another course in another school .. and closer to home in Tarbes. There, I was a “newbie”, most of the students already knew each other. But I remained sullen. From the beginning of the school year, I felt it was starting to turn bad, that they would start to bully me without me saying anything. But this time I reacted so that they would leave me alone, once and for all. I came out of my silence. Finally, those 2 years in this school would be my best memories of school, because of the friendship and the atmosphere … We spent our time playing tarot in the study room when the monitors weren’t watching, and in that way those who wanted to study could do it.

It was the new wave period… ‘Frankie Goes to Hollywood’, ‘Eurhytmics’, ‘U2′ etc.. Every 3 months, we organized parties. All my friends left the party, mountaineers, Basques and Bearnais … always sang during the meals. After, we would go to the discotheque and several times I had the opportunity to meet girls, but it didn’t go further than mouth exchanges, probably because of me. I did not really want to see what would happen in the back of a car or in daylight. However, once, a girl took my hand and when I turned around, I saw a kind of royal Beauty. I did not really understand what was going on,  but well I certainly wanted to know more. So we started to talk. At one point she told me that she had to leave, like Cinderella, in a pumpkin which was going to pick her up – her father, actually. Before heading for the exit, she French kissed me and disappeared immediately. It was very strange, and I had no hope of seeing her again. At that moment, I felt like a toad who turned into a prince, with a glass slipper in my hand and just her first name: (Name redacted 7). Sometime later I saw her. I was driving. I suddenly slammed on the brakes, my passenger and the windshield remember it… I rushed towards her, a bit like in a movie. And even before I began to talk, she kissed me intensely (I didn’t recall seeing that kind of scene in a movie). We talked briefly and exchanged addresses. Then it stopped there. I realized later (through her letters) that it had all been a trick to make her boyfriend jealous, she hoped … He probably wasn’t attentive enough to her… Still I was hooked. I tried several times to see her again, going to her high school. I must have looked very silly when she saw me. I went up to her house. Maybe she kissed me again. I can’t remember. And yes I became oppressive. My other visits were totally unsuccessful … Still, I would wait for hours. One evening after drinking too much at dinner, out of chagrin, I had the idea to throw myself into the nearest river. I was stopped.

Time was passing. I had to obtain my degree – I obtained it. Then I had to decide what I wanted to do after this technical diploma. I could easily take a work placement in a drawing office, which would seal my career and my life forever… And I thought: what kind of beautiful girl would want a second-rate man working in  drawing office, doing things he doesn’t even like? Who will want me if I don’t do for myself what I want to do.

Well, it made my target much less clear, it was more risky, but after all I had nothing to lose. Because anyway as I was at that point, I wasn’t worth much. During the summer, after she told me where she would go on vacation,  I went to the seaside … to the city where she would be … Chance, I always counted a lot on chance, I thought if that happened, that would help me. I stayed on the beach for so long that I almost got 2nd degree burns.

It is clear that even 1 or 2 years later, I was still thinking of her. And although I was at  Toulouse university, I had obtained a special authorisation to go back home… I sometimes made trips around Tarbes hoping to see her but  it never happened. It was so ridiculous. She had only kissed me. For me it was enough, coming from a girl of my age, and me not having the right age for the situation. I saw love as something so high! With the idea that one preserves oneself for the beloved. I could not accept that one could “go out” with a girl lightly, in a carefree manner, without any future. It was all too important.

My only friends after high school were my cousins and one of their friends named (Name redacted 8). I heard from him not long ago: he cut his hand while working on a machine. It was him who gave me my first music tapes from the Cure, Seventeen Seconds and Faith. But it was the great U2 era. Shit, this guy (Name redacted 8) was always in love with someone. Blah. There were certainly two sisters one summer, girls from Cabourg on vacation, two little blonde heads. The most beautiful was the youngest, I was the oldest but I got the fatter one. Well, it was only flirting and the point was only to find out who was kissing the longest time. Towards the end of the holidays she whispered that she was in love with me. So I said to myself that the most sensitive ones weren’t the ones we thought, and better to be careful with that. However I did not give any positive response to her profession [of love].

The year went by in Toulouse, where I was a student who didn’t study. I spent my days doing nothing. My big thing was to remove all the hair from my beard, the whole operation took me one day. The softness of skin after that was incredible, for a week, only a slight fuzziness persisted. Not a single rough hair. It became an obsession and brought back old memories of the time when I was 12 – 13 years old, I cut my pubic hairs with scissors. I was offered ‘The Top’ album for my birthday. The first time I listened to it, I thought the cassette was broken. It seemed distorted and too slow. And I did not know very well what I wanted to become, a Cure fan maybe … and also I shaved my temples.

Sometimes with my cousin and  (Name redacted 8), we went to village barn dances. On one of those occasions, a girl asked me outright if I wanted to date her. [name redacted] if I remember correctly. It was weird and uncomfortable at the same time. She was so excited and kept saying things like: “You’re too cute, I want to go out with you” I said no, not because she had no charm, quite the contrary. Because I thought it this approach was not romantic at all.

I quit university. The following summer my cousin  (Name redacted 9) committed suicide. The whole thing is not clear. He was found drowned in the canal du Midi with a Bible in his pocket. So after that, I didn’t have trouble finding black clothes. The memory of the room where his body lay. Of his sisters crying, especially  (Name redacted 10) who was hysterical, who wanted him to wake up because it was only a bad dream. At the church it wasn’t any deeper, the priest spoke – spoke like a priest – but also read notes that  (Name redacted 9) had left. In those writings, it was all about love, reconciliation… of her parents, who were divorced … What could I have done? Some time later while visiting my aunt with my mother. I went into  (Name redacted)’s room. There were records of Supertramp and Ricky Lee Jones. I stood there silently listening to maybe a few songs. I said to myself that if he had known Faith [the album], perhaps it would have been different. (I must have been very stupid at the time). As an aside, Cure was going to play in Montpelier, outdoor stage I think. I would have liked to go, but I gave up. It seemed uncalled for to me. Later on,  (Name redacted 9) would be among the spirits I would invoke when I needed help.

Whenever a girl stared at me with insistence I did not get the message, or I didn’t want to get it. It was often girls that I found too mature for me. While my own attempts towards younger girls found no response and ended in a vacuum. Apparently there was a gap. I went to the military service at age 21. There, I gained weight.

Ouch, here’s an episode that I am obliged to talk about, but I don’t remember very well when it happened. Perhaps it was before, or perhaps in between, or perhaps at that time… I really do not know anymore. But well, it happened. Again due to lack of beds, children were made to sleep with adults. I’m a nice guy, perceived as responsible, etc. So I was the one made to sleep with them. And my bed was large enough. It’s about [name redacted]. So … Sometimes you have nocturnal erections. I missed the presence of someone. [name redacted] was the one there, and I wanted to hold him tight. I must have been in a half-sleep state. But apparently [me holding him] prevented him from sleeping, and he was whining. I realized that I had erections and that my hug was a little too strong. I think this happened on two nights. I think I said to my mother that I did not want my nephew to sleep with me anymore, and that she should find another arrangement, or I took it upon myself. I can’t remember…

I spent my summers alone, not leaving home, having no relations outside …The only buddies that I had ever had were from school. Out of obligation. I felt no need to reach out to others but it made me suffer for sure. I fundamentally believe that it wouldn’t have brought me anything. I listened a lot to the Faith album, I spent my days lying on the bed staring at the ceiling, letting every note infiltrate me. Were it not for this music, I might have let myself go unrestrained… I do not know, but the music calmed me, numbed me  … And especially thanks to the content of the album, I felt myself, I said to myself that at least there is someone who expresses what I feel. Who describes so well, that I feel like it’s my own inner melody that I hear. At the time, Robert Smith was not popular. I knew nothing of those who had made this record and it did not matter anyway … It was something that belonged only to me and I did not wish to share it with someone else. To me it seemed to be impossible to meet someone who would love me. Having a job was a requirement in this world … Without it I didn’t exist. But the purely sexual desires were nagging me, I was still a virgin. In the end, did I want feelings or pleasure? My masturbatory techniques were still limited to the friction between the mattress and box spring. The nature of my surgery (done badly?) was causing frequent bleeding. Besides, I do not think I  personally had something to say. What made the lives of others was apparently very superficial things. In my village you could find sons of  bricklayers, agricultural workers, postmen’s daughters and whatnot. Just young people drinking in cafes and calling it their life. My sister was there for a few days at my parents’. After all I only had known incestuous relationships, and I could not get rid of this pressure to want to make love … I mean to finally have a relationship with a girl who would allow me to penetrate her.

My image of women must have been extremely limited, but mostly I think it was an extremely minimal picture of myself. Whenever girls looked nicely at me or touched my hand, I would immediately become aloof, I would slip away. I struggled with myself to not let myself be reached by any of them. If the girl was pretty it was even harder to bear … I preferred the ugly ones, because at least they didn’t flutter their lashes. I could only speak with indifference. I turned off all music. I just had to ask. After all, women are like everybody else, or so they say. My sister has experience. That should suffice. I said: “I want to make love with you” – “I’d rather not” – “I’m sure it’ll make you happy” – “I have everything I need at home” – “Really?” I returned to my room and I played Faith so that all the condensed pressure would be released. End of the episode.

I was seeking employment. My trainings were useless to me … I put ads in newspapers. I was reading them. One day a guy came up, he said he was doctor … And offered me a job at a hospital. I was ready to accept. I’ll recount the details of this story at another time. The only thing that is useful to know here is that this guy asked me to pass a “medical” examination. I accepted… The visit was immediately conducted, by himself, in my room. My parents had participated in the interview, they did not raise any objections on the spot. It turned out that it was a thorough examination. He also asked me questions about my love life. I said it was non-existent. He followed up with questions about wanting to have children. I replied that I wanted children. He concludes that I’d ”better start now”. In fact he offered me no job after that visit … It is even possible that this character never was what he said he was.

There was this girl, that I met in a night club. I had had an erection while dancing with her. I was all shaken. She was from Toulouse. We remained in friendly contact. At the time, I was bold enough to come over to a girl’s place without being specifically invited. That is inappropriate, but how do people meet then, exactly? She received me. She was a balanced person who had a job while, I was unemployed. I think she understood my intentions early, since she’s the only one before you to whom I sent flowers. Apparently she was with a guy though I never met him. We went to several concerts together, always with one of her girlfriends. We would meet occasionally. She liked The Cure – in their ”light” period. I think something might have happened between us, but she waited too long, and I spoke little. In fact I needed someone to chase me, and for this, one had to be pretty disturbed too.

I subscribed to a Cure fan club. I had several correspondents, including one I thought I was in love with. But she lived in Beauvais in the Oise department. She was the one who almost helped me set up my first discotheque, all of which we still talk about.

At this point, my main goal, above all, was to meet Cure fans. My horizon was gradually opening up. Now it was not just ”cousins who have a friend of a friend”, etc. I wanted my own friends. By placing an advertisement in a local free newspaper, I met  (Name redacted 10) the drummer and  (Name redacted 11) ”Japanese girl”; a little cutie who really looked like a Jap. Lost in her countryside. I was always at her place (my mother, again, was suspicious about it all). She was the one who once told me she wanted me to kiss her just because she missed it. I never wanted to go out with her but it’s true that sometimes I was jealous when she dated someone. We talked about Cure, Cure, Cure and she had the album ‘Pornography’, how could I forget that!

She introduced me to  (Name redacted 12) the ‘mystic’. She was a really weird girl, physically at first, too tall and awkward, always lost in a mist, like she was not there. Eyes almost completely bland, almost dead. She studied psychology and could not find a job, lived with her sister. She had frequented cults. She had the complete metaphysical tool set. Did astral themes, Hi-King, went to see psychics for any question. One weekend,  (Name redacted 10) had organised a trip to the Cathar castles, with him, me,  (Name redacted 11) and  (Name redacted 12).  (Name redacted 12) said she had been a Cathar in a previous life and had been thrown into the fire of the Inquisition.  (Name redacted 10) probably wanted me to go out with  (Name redacted 12), because we spent the night in the same hotel room …  (Name redacted 10) knew about my problem with women, he had some knowledge in graphology and interpreting signs. More psychological stuff than esoterism, without being reticent about it.  But there was nothing between  (Name redacted 12) and Jean. Do things have to happen just because they are made possible? After that, I think  (Name redacted 11) went to Japan, to meet a penfriend, the kind of guys girls fall for. I hated her for it, and when she returned,  (Name redacted 10) came with her to a party. I didn’t even say a word to her.

In the meantime,  (Name redacted 12) and I went to a Cure concert, the ‘Kiss me’ tour… She had been wanting me for a long time to make love to her – she had told me … because she was a virgin and she wanted me to be the first .. and yet I had said I could not because I did not love her, etc.. But she insisted so much that while still dressed, we hugged and I simulated the act for her. Her only comment was ”so, that’s it” I am afraid she was disappointed by the roughness of my demonstration…

Meanwhile, the Cure fan correspondent from Beauvais had found an intern job and moved to Toulouse. Her arrival had been overseen by another girl named  (Name redacted 13) who was also part of the fan club.  (Name redacted 13) was a student in psychology I think. Her boyfriend, I don’t remember what he studied.  At last, there were meetings organized by several people who were part of the fan club at the time. … I expected much from the first meeting … We had been writing so much to each other, I said so many things (it seemed). It didn’t go very well … I could not say anything, do anything … with my heavy thoughts. I just met them one afternoon. Then after that, it was ”yeah, that’s it Jean, you’re nice but now you can go home”. I still saw them several times. And sometimes I even let myself go and said what I actually thought. In fact I later learned that these 2 girls were dykes … But much water had passed under the bridge by then … and passed several times.

I would learn later about the stories about  (Name redacted 14).  (Name redacted 13) set up an appointment, making me understand that I wouldn’t need to do much for the [name redacted] to fall into my arms. But I was still thinking of  (Name redacted 14). I didn’t understand this turnaround. Too much had happened since. I couldn’t return feelings that had waited for so long, even though these feelings had been more real and more sincere … Often, if you wait too much, things start to scatter. Now she was just a ghost of the past. From the time when I was a young man full of dreams, that life would soon break. We would occasionally write each other,  and we would meet from time to time to discuss life, but in no real depth. Finally, we lost touch .

But I going outside the timeline here…

(Name redacted 13) put me in contact with  (Name redacted 15), another Cure addict. A few exchanges through the mail, a meeting alone. She was starting to study at Toulouse university, where I had found a job. We went out together quickly, she’s the one who made me lose my cherry … which upset  (Name redacted 12) very much, when I told her joyously … “How can you say that to me,” she said”. Yes indeed, once again I got it wrong.

I had bought  (Name redacted 15) a ring… I wanted to show that I was attentive… (There were some ‘the Primary’ there. But she was very upset, using a knife blade was an exercise in which she excelled. And always telling me about God the Father, God the Father! she never even knew her father. Then she spoke about me to her mother, hey, I had to hunt for a job according to her. All this made me a little tired. There was no agreement on what religion is about. I could not do anything against these destructive impulses, it was something extremely heavy, difficult for a first relationship. One day I saw her climb up the stairs in front of me … And I decided I could not stay with her. In the same week I was in her student room, the discussion again turned to religion, my view was not pleasing to her (I was very Cartesian at the time), and I wasn’t satisfied with hers, and I left.

[name redacted] had what is called a peach skin, petite blonde, etc.. with a poorly proportioned outline. I only remember having made love to her once. The first time. Something without finesse or communion. With a technique along the lines of ‘I’m on you and I crush you. Something heavy, without fusion, I must have ejaculated quickly as if I had to get rid of an illness or something by compulsion and not conviction.

Then came my Minitel period [ancestor of Internet]. I was in an apartment in Toulouse …. Nobody came to visit me. I did not know what to do and where to go … I was not looking for sex dates on sex telephone lines. I just wanted to make contacts … and it seemed to be the most protective solution,  anonymity! Also because of this difficulty in reaching out to others. After staying logged on all day and night (the bills were heavy) I finally got the trust of many people, I was a nice guy, who certainly had communication problems. Who felt alone and needed to know people. And escape his heaviness. I met gay guys, coaches, including a nice girl who found me a job even when I had money problems. Thanks to her also I discovered the Autan (trendy bar) where I could go if I wanted to meet other people who had similar musical tastes as mine … something I had a lot of difficulties in doing!

For me, going to a bar alone was something inconceivable. Being submitted to the promiscuity of people … It was horrible. I went to see where it was … Then another day, I really needed to go there, I could not stay like this at home, alone waiting for nothing to come … I was freaked … Trying to see clearly I sat in front of the bar on a bench and waited, waited for I do not know what, that I see myself as ridiculous as I am. Why go there in this place where calm, mature and pleasure-seeking people look at myself as some intruder, a stranger. Finally when I got a little quieter, knowing that despite the importance I attach to the thing … maybe nothing else would happen and it was not by staying out that something would finally happen. It turned out that the waiter was nice enough to speak to me, he saw my ‘Pornography’ badge and this made a topic for our conversation. I used to go back to this pub, and step by step I became familiar with this group and I used to meet lots of new faces. [Name redacted] a.k.a. [nickname redacted] was the first with whom I had a real discussion. It was perhaps not the best meeting but it opened the doors to others. [Name redacted and name redacted] I was witness sometimes to extremely violent scenes between them. But that’s another story.

From that time, things became extremely pleasant, I increased my circle of friends effortlessly … I just had to let it go … One evening [name redacted] put her hand on my leg, I let her do so. I did not understand the game right away. Some days later we went to watch the movie 9 1/2 weeks and then she spent the night at my house. My second time was like the first. Then another night she came straight home, with her cape and black lipstick, it was clear she would spend the night at my place. We did not really do the thing, I said something and then we stopped … We were not very communicative and we just slept. Another time [name redacted], [name redacted] and I even went to a porn theatre. She was 17 but they did not ask for identity cards at the entrance. It was just for fun, we did not stay long. Normally she would go out with [name redacted] … But hey, I can’t remember any more, they gave the impression of not being overly amorous, and [name redacted] was doing her business very discretely. Sometimes the silence was eloquent enough. My life took a lighter turn. If [name redacted] and I were walking in the street, we could very likely shout out together, “Oh, [name redacted]!” and it didn’t go any further.

Then came his birthday, I became acquainted with [name redacted] … everyone there ended up sleeping with someone. We just played a game: I kiss you, I caress you. I had really liked spending the whole evening with this sensual girl of 17 against my body. I could not have wished for anything else. I must have been 23. At daybreak, we noticed there was a spare room in the house of [name redacted]. And that we could have made love if we had seen it earlier. It was charming … There was no obligation. All this was with a lightness that I had never known before. I saw her twice after that, it was under more conventional conditions, or we just talked. She boosted my morale when I had to take the decision to leave Toulouse for another job after the [name redacted] episode.

All this is only stories of a moment, life passes and nothing changes. You find yourself alone thinking of such and such a person and you wonder … What should I do? There is nobody for me amongst the people I already know. You would like to be of interest to those who do not show you any, or can you show interest in those who would show you some in return. The idea of showing interest to those who don’t show me any, without expecting anything in return, had never occurred to me … But what if I find myself uninteresting?

One last episode before Jane …After experiencing some economic problems I suggested to [name redacted] and his girlfriend that we live together in an apartment, we would share the costs. I was good friends with [name redacted], almost in love with him. I loved his girlfriend a little less.

They were very sociable persons and I was not always light enough. I was a maniac in my own genre. We had some wonderful moments. It all happened in a good spirit. Each of us respecting the privacy of others … At one point they wanted to introduce me to a girl, one of [name redacted]‘s work colleagues (girlfriend of [name redacted]). This took place on New Year’s Day. The evening went beautifully with the ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude that was mine at the time. She was rather an old woman than a girl. Ugh! In return, she got into my car. I began to stroke her pussy. She couldn’t stand it, poor thing! She really was into it. And it certainly was not the discussion we had in the evening, when I had ignored her, which had left her defenceless. Once in my room, I penetrated her and she was saying : – ha ha ha it’s good – ha ha ha, it’s been so long! I stopped right there. Not even wanting to finish the job. But saying: “you do not realize that we have absolutely nothing in common humpf humpf!”…. She asked: “so I should go away ?” – “Well yes, I think so”.

Finally the community ended because of disagreement on the management of household chores, it must be said that it had rather become a pigsty! We had a discussion at the terrace of the Autan pub. I heard everything I had heard during my whole life: “That I blame others for not being attentive enough / That I am not cool / That I am not flexible / and that it’s me who has a problem and that I’d better keep more distant, etc., etc.. ” I wept bitterly, knowing that it would not change anything, I could not hide my sincere bitterness.

I found an apartment downtown; I was going to be more free, closer to the places I use to go to. I was going out a little more; I was more self-assured … There was one of [name redacted]‘s girlfriends that I particularly liked. A little bit in love, very impressed .. She was a mad Gothic and I would have been too boring, I wanted love. It was useless to try to reach it … So it was better that way. I had liked spending some time with her, we had drinks we fooled around together. For the rest, it was better to let it go and then nothing was urgent anymore. I was bitten but stoic.

Jane arrived fairly quickly, I was hesitant for a while but she persisted. How could I not be touched? For our first appointment, I asked her to accompany me to do my shopping … to see if after this trivial approach, if she was still following, I would decide if I would go further. And she was. Shortly after, I saw her at the cafe terrace while I was crossing the street. She had a particular hairstyle – I admit here, I was caught. We were keeping each other company, I brought her home. This lasted several days. Then came the moment when we stopped talking and she was facing me and I was facing her, I came closer to kiss her and she kissed me too. We rolled on the bed, while hugging and enjoying the moment. Maybe I said that I did not want to give our relationship too much importance. But she had this wonderful phrase “Now you’re with me.” Initially we only met during the day, things were not settled yet, when she would come back to me she would tell me “I kissed this guy”. Later she would say: “I spent the night with this person.”

We called each other to meet. We were meeting half way at the St. Sernin Church. At first we were keeping our clothes on during our sexual interactions. She said she felt it was enough this way. But I told her, with great difficulties, that the rubbing of clothes hurt me. And that I prefer that we move to something else. Which brought us shortly after that to the episode of the pierced condom (a classic) and my first opportunity to meet with her doctor father. I also informed her of my fears, that I didn’t have a very good conception of love, I told her about my brother and other little things. Jane explained to me and showed me the sensuality, that love was beautiful, that when we loved each other we could make love a lot of the time and anywhere and other things.

Suddenly she wanted to make love in such or such a place or at a particular time, I was never very comfortable in those situations. But I followed her, I would follow anywhere! Staircase, hall, lake, shower, nature, car. Later she introduced me to new positions obviously. She was demanding, but it’s a good thing. How else could I have discovered things? I realized very quickly that my premature ejaculations didn’t match her quality expectations. I found no other way than masturbating before to avoid ejaculating too fast. Otherwise I could hardly contain myself and everything was gone in a few moments. She was upset to hear about that. But I think she knew what the trick was.

When I came to know her family, first on his father’s side, we got invited for dinner. I passed through the crucible of his criticisms. “What do you do in life?” I was unable to explain clearly. “You’ll make it, perhaps?” “Er, what exactly”, I thought. He showed me the family tree. He made me realize that I was stealing his daughter. I came out of there in bits. We stopped for a moment with [name redacted] on the steps in the street in front of her father’s place. I was feeling sort of sick. I did not understand why he had been so odious to me.

On the contrary, the first time I saw her mother, she looked very relaxed. I realized very quickly that the hypocrite was not who it seemed to be. And that maybe one of them knew her daughter better than the other. Jane’s mother, I do not know for what reasons, was trying to seduce me. By the way, Jane had told me once that she had dreamed that I had slept with her mother. She had a bad image of her mother. She had left her husband. The image of a bitch who invited men to her place for one night, etc., etc.. She told me many details of this kind.

Sometimes she had permission from her father to stay the night with me. We did not really live together. Our longest time together was this famous one-month holiday in Corsica. She was often jealous, over a look, all disputes were about this topic. Not on trivial things like washing dishes or letting milk boil over. No, rather on things like you didn’t look at me, you did not kiss me, you left me all alone. And finally I must have gotten used to her behaving this way. When we slept in the same bed we were always stuck against each other. I do not know how it got there but we never slept on our own side, well except maybe during some phases of sleep.

We were walking arm in arm, in a slightly dark street outside a crepe restaurant, suddenly a black man coming from a group we were passing, came to us and hugged us and exclaimed “personal injury claim!” This made us laugh a lot!

There’s been plenty of stories, lots of nonsensical stuff. The time when I got tired of her, I returned her knickers that I wore (crossing town in underwear is funny). When she wanted to leave me I cried the first time, I vomited the second time, the third time I did not eat for a week. But once she told me this “I know you’ll love me forever. ” There was a time with the fire fighters. One in which she reproached me for being too romantic. The time when she told me she would prefer me to be a bum. The time when I had to put her in the shower, the time when she threw pebbles against my shutters, the times I wanted to slit my wrists etc..

Me who knew nothing, I never went out with a girl on a regular basis, even if it had been a flirt, someone who you do not really feel attached to. I had to take responsibility for everything, in many fields. There came a time when we were looking for each other all the time, I could not call her directly, something like that. I was looking for her in the cafes where she was going after school; I was waiting outside her home. There must have been a sixth sense. We bumped into each other every time.

Jane loved the sun, the beach, swimming. We went to Corsica because she wanted to. In fact,  sea beds, even in clear water, make me freak out. But hey that’s no big deal. It was going pretty well. We made love every morning after breakfast. One afternoon while we went to town, suddenly she quarreled with me for a stupid reason. Like I had talked to a cashier with a smile.

Maybe because I had dismissed the issue with a derisory reflex, something like “Whatever!” She lashed out at me and tore my t-shirt, saying that I lied. It was impossible! Such scenes had already happened, but now it was taking on dramatic proportions. It looked like she was losing it… My first reaction to this kind of delirium was to slap her, for sure, and after we would fight … Someone normal would have left the girl from the beginning and would have found 10 others. But not me, I was too obsessed by the concept of “the one and only, the woman of my life.”

But I was sick of it, all was well, shit! So I left, I left her there in the middle of a square. I did not know what would happen but I really didn’t want to suffer this anymore. I took the car and went anywhere. Of course I loved her and it pissed me off to do this. But what else? We would kill each other if it continued. I stayed until dusk in the hills above Porto-Vecchio.

Then, knowing nowhere else to go I went back down to where we were staying. Jane was there. She looked no better than me. I asked her how she had got back, she hitchhiked. I wanted us too talk about what had happened. And then she threw herself on me, shouting incoherently. “I have no more Dad, I have no more Mom!”

When I write or speak about it, it still hurts, I tried to take her in my arms to calm her and say I was there and that she still had her dad and her mom. All of these things. It was really difficult to understand what was happening. She sulked from then on. At the end of the holidays her father, with his small family, came over just for a few days. Talk about making matters worse.

But things continued. I left my apartment and had to go back to my parents who live 50 km from Toulouse. We had been forced to live apart from each other. But it was not of our choosing, just an economic constraint. I had tried to rent an apartment for both of us … But I think her father was opposed to it.

We would spend the weekend in a hotel, then sometimes we could go to her mother’s place. I knew her whole family, uncles, grandparents, etc..

I knew her class mates (she was in the graphic arts). During one of those weekends at the hotel, it was in the morning, we were eating breakfast in the room. Without asking for anything more, Jane adopted a lustful attitude. I do not know what game she was playing, but I did not find her to be honest, it annoyed me. I pushed her away angrily, saying it was not worth trying venal experiments on me, that it would be better for her to be sincere and that it wasn’t what I felt and it wasn’t a game.. We both left angry. Maybe I was being psycho-rigid, resistant to change, reluctant to express a slight and unfounded emotion. Maybe she had watched one of these porn movies broadcast on Canal+ Saturday night (her mother recently got a decoder). Maybe I should have let her do it. Her attempt was obviously a failure. Form with any content, I thought.

My professional life changed. For a relatively long period I was away. During the week we didn’t see each other because I worked next to Marseille. It was maybe better this way, our relationship became calmer. I could finally breathe a little. All this would eventually get better.

But my long absence had resulted in more complications. I heard: “My period is late I may be pregnant … I went out with a guy, but just kissed” and “I prefer that we do not see each other again. ” All sorts of things more or less convoluted. Some to trigger some reaction, others because she was tired of me being away.

I really loved her, maybe I did not know how to show it. But on the other hand, I longed for more quietness, more simplicity. Why didn’t she understand that? My fault is that, facing these problems, I find myself in the heat of the emotion and often I do not find any argument to defend my point of view. Most of the time, I gave in to her demands. But soon, I was charged with emotion, I could not accept it; I could not resolve it within myself. I had to see her, talk to her, even if I were to do crazy things to reach this goal.

Then little by little our relationships instead of relaxing, faded away. We still saw each other, we were still doing things together …

One Friday night I went to her mother’s as usual. Often her mother was away during the weekend. We usually found someone to see, to invite over and spend the evening with. And now she’s telling me that I cannot stay. She had planned for a friend to come and pick her up and that I was not part of the plan. Of course I did not understand. But she explained things so well that I resigned myself. At the appointed hour I had to leave. And me and me and me … again left to drive back the 40 km. Pff, I went to the Autan bar, I drank 2, 3 beers maybe more. In fact, the amount of alcohol is inversely correlated to the amount of bitterness. Damn, how did I let her step on my toes? How can I let her abuse my kindness? In the bar I talked with a girl, she told me it’s normal, she has the right to do what she wants. What? Am I a dog! Of course, I returned. I climbed the gate, I went into the garden. The bastard that was scheduled to come over had just showed up … He just appeared between the iron bars of the fence of the house and then took off again when he saw the ruckus I was making in the garden – knocking over flower pots, trying to get on the roof. I was a dog, I crouched and I barked, I ate grass. Jane did not open, I was drunk in fact, and that was a good enough reason. I was full of hate and what can calm me down? It would be enough  to not put me in that state of hatred at all! Yes, perhaps love is not as great after all; if it has the ability to destroy everything in its path. Love an equal love without any games. Zero plus zero equals zero … It is a draw. But I’m like everyone else. And one cannot love for two in order to make it two. Otherwise who will keep all?

At one point I found some glass, I wanted to cut my throat. I was drunk so I wasn’t effective. She called her father … The ambulance arrived at the same time as him … They did a lot of things, tests, checks. I was glad someone took care of me! And happy to have made her evening a failure. And then the cops took me away and I spent the night at the police station. It was the end of it all, right?! It should have been.

After that, we still saw each other to catch up, on the terrace of a cafe. We didn’t go to parties together anymore. She went out with other guys. She told me lots of stuff. But we were just “friends “.

But I was feeling bad, I wanted to be with her. Do the same as the other couples around me. A job, a house, a dog, all that everybody wants, on the road to joy. She was not new wave or gothic, or anything like that … her artistic talent was enough for her. She created her own reasons for being. Was this some sort of vibration that I was perceiving and wanted to know more about? I felt bad, sexual obsessions … even stronger. Even though in a couple, I do not really tend towards excessive sexual misbehavior. Surely this split brought up those kinds of questions, destabilizing me deeply. My relationship with Jane led me inexorably, as always, towards the slippery slope.

It was at this time period that I started to see whores … Just maybe to tell her how much I suffered. One day she had asked: have you already gone to a whore? I answered that the day I go see one of these ladies would mean I am feeling really bad. So that was said. The first one had soft skin; I had also never imagined that anyone could have such soft skin with such beautiful breasts. Another gave me a blowjob in a special way, a technique using the tongue, it would be almost impossible to ask a girl to do it. There were several episodes, including transvestites. The first one, I did not see right away that this was a guy … He was too beautiful.

One evening over two coffees, Jane said: “I want to make love with you” … I decided to spend the night at the hotel. I refused and yet I wanted so much to say yes. Continuing to meet as friends, as she wished. She was telling me her stories, guys with whom she slept, things about a one night stand, at the most. If I knew the guy, she would say “oh but he’s a jerk!” One day she even told me that she and another girl slept with a guy, who worked as a nurse, while she was doing a summer job in a psychiatric hospital … Autistic people have love stories too, did you know that? I eventually found a small room for rent in the suburbs …  finances were so tight so it was either a flat or a car … and my parents had made me buy this car that had kept me at their place for almost a year. For some time I had been friends with a co-worker and we were going out to some other places. Jane had decided to come with me on a Saturday night to a nightclub that I frequented.

The evening started at her mother’s place, she was not often there on weekends. I saw that Jane was drinking more and more. I was worried for her, but I could not change it. I thought we could love each other again. Jane was teasing my friend a little bit; he was behaving stoically, acting as if he didn’t understand what was going on. Didn’t Jane feel like being the center of attention! We arrived at the night club located quite far from Toulouse but it went well. I think I told myself “Well, now I’ll leave Jane alone”. I wanted her to feel what it is like to be a poor bitch in a place you do not know. I left, I wanted to have fun as she had always done without bothering about me. It was a bulls eye. I fidgeted on the dance floor (which I never do) I approached one girl or another (which I do even less) Smiling, happy, light. We had been there for a while, she had already done her tour of the place … and was feeling uncomfortable.

Suddenly, I see Jane coming towards me, she kisses me and rather than stay, goes away. I find her sitting down, lost in her thoughts. I ask her if she wants to talk to me … she says no. I tell her that I want to talk. I bring her outside, thinking that fresh air would do her good.

So, I do not know why, but she does not want to say anything, I want her to speak, I want her to explain why she just kissed me … We find ourselves between two cars, she wants me to release her, I do not want to, she is struggling, I try to control myself before it degenerates. I just want her to stop moving, I want her to answer me. I dragged us both to the ground; I think it will be easier this way. “Confess; confess that you’re a whore! Confess!” Yes, I am a bitch but I love you.

When she fell to the ground she must have hit a stone. An ambulance comes for her, she goes through a hypoglycemic episode or something like that. Surely a confession obtained under torture and alcohol, is not very reliable. We were in December, in a kind of fog, I worry about her in the ambulance. A few days later, I, still holding on like a madman, see her again in a bus that I caught at the same time … I try to talk to her, I see that this time there are marks on her … she asks me to get off at the next stop.

Normally I will never see her again. You think that the story ends here. Well, no, and that is what is so weird.

I finally left the area, I had been dismissed in early December and the only job I found six months later was in the Charentes department. It had to mean that this was for the best, and besides, it was so much better this way. This new job would allow me to progress professionally which could not be a bad thing since I ignored that so much in the past. And above all it would help me not to be tempted to see Jane.

So here I am in Angouleme, I start with six-month trial and a crappy little studio. My colleagues are young but most of them are locals and congenital idiots. There, no more Gothic night clubs, no more extravagant parties. Few people stand out but it is with them that I would be more ready to sympathize. In the beginning I went every weekend to my parents place. But at least I changed my mindset and forgot past annoyances … and if I went to Toulouse it was just to find prostitutes.

Shortly after joining this company, the receptionist invited me to her home, married with two kids, a cute little blonde woman-child, I was new to the region, and her attitude was pleasant. Well, at one point I asked myself what I was doing at her place, if there was not something fishy. I told her that I was embarrassed to be there … she said there was no problem … I still feel that it was awkward. The experience was not repeated.

One day I saw a beautiful girl, oh she looked like you! but hey, I saw her when she rang a door next to my apartment. I decided to make friends with the tenant woman living next door hoping eventually to meet her friend [name redacted]. It was not a success, I was invited to join a meal at a restaurant with a small committee of people who knew each other professionally, and people who are new in town get some sympathy. Musically the conversation was not interesting, in any case, all these are rednecks who live in the countryside! It happened that later that, even though I tried to seduce Josephine, who didn’t give a shit, I spoke with my neighbor. I was telling her that I had experienced bad things in Toulouse and that I wanted to finally find a bit of innocence in my life, simpler and truer things. She said it was possible. Once when I proposed to help carry her grocery bags, like a nice neighbor. At her place, when she got close to me, I saw my chance to enter her personal space. Uh-oh, I saw it coming, I took a step back. Things were said, I just left. It was not worth pushing it.

I learned that a complaint had been filled against me about the fight in December. I imagined that this time Jane’s parents wanted to be better safe than sorry. Pff, given how long it took, what they did was useless. Whatever. It was ancient history now that I had decided to deny. The trial hearing required my presence. I knew that if I didn’t show up I would automatically be judged guilty. It was a fine. I had to provide administrative papers, bank account information and then it was over.

My work contract is extended and the low costing housing office got me a decent and inexpensive small apartment, well arranged with separate kitchen and bath (I like bath tubs). That’s where I discovered the virtues of soap in masturbation, and the effect of the corner of the sink. It is not easy to explain but it involves placing the crotch over the corner of the basin. You have to add a little soap which allows you to rub on the rim. It increases the sensations in the lower abdomen, like an anal fingering. Also I liked to install a mirror to see the whole thing. Soon, I missed being in contact with someone and I started to look for places where I could find hookers in Angouleme. And even in other cities close by. In fact the only ones I found in the outskirts were transvestites. When I invited one into my car we went to an isolated place, he gave me a blowjob and contrary to what would be expected, I asked him if I could give him a blowjob, he agreed and I went at it with gusto. In the end he told me I sucked well. I was rather proud! It was the only slightly extravagant thing that one could do in the area.

As far as women are concerned it was simple, they were putting ads in the newspaper. It’s strange to realise the state in which those ads put me … I tried to convince myself that it was not worth the trouble, after all that nothing would change … and then I had the idea that I am worthless, I am not even capable of having someone by my side, I don’t even know if I’ll be able to have sex with this prostitute. After all, it doesn’t matter with a whore, if I don’t do it right. Moreover, some of them told me “oh well, you really wanted it” But whatever, “I don’t come to see you just because I love sex”. I think I visited them all one after the other, when I knew enough about them I didn’t go back to them. One of them was particularly interesting; well I did not understand everything.

She was not very young. She welcomed me and brought me to the bathroom to wash my sex, which she did with her own hands. Then she gave me a massage with her whole body by lying on me. She offered to watch porn videos as an accompaniment. I did not want to. Then she asked me what position I wanted. I said “you on me.” And then it was really strange. She was completely dilated and lubricated and dripped all over my sex to the extent that I had the feeling that it was a giant aquatic vacuum. I lasted 2 minutes … I only told her that it was good, that I did not want any more. You have to pay in advance. She practiced sodomy but it was too expensive, but I regret it a bit because finally after all that I’ve never sodomized a woman. On weekends I used to making pastries, do a thorough house clean, my salary increased regularly, I used to buy furniture. Angouleme is very bourgeois, but also very small; there was a beautiful girl I sometimes saw in the street. I would have liked to be able to talk to her to say something nice …  just: “I saw you, do you see me?” but I knew I was not able and so on … She was certainly one more bourgeoise who would buy her books in France-Loisirs. I’m of no interest to her. Then I start to call erotic lines. It’s scary to hear those weirdos leaving messages. There was this female voice, I called, and she actually lived next door. I went to see her. She just wanted to be held in my arms, I got nothing more, and in addition, she was ugly like a toad. Anyway, there was a waitress in a nightclub, I tried to attract her attention, but she was with the boss of this club who constantly shouted at her, which annoyed me greatly. But we sympathized just as regular customers do. Bah, once she gave me a kiss just when I decided to leave Angouleme.

My classmates were these simple people who go to prefabricated slaughterhouse/barn-like discos. Always the same, a blond girl wants you to take her home. Just for a quick shag in the parking lot of the church (true) because you said something a bit original over two drinks. Ah the countryside! How old was she? 17 or 18. Long curly hair, an imperfect face without being ugly. I proposed her to go on the back seats. I did not want her. Soon I was obliged to take her without any condom, which was madness in itself. I had not enough erection …She on the other hand was determined. I was not convinced. That was annoying … I did not want to send her away. Then I began to perform cunnilingus on her … This would allow me to activate my basic instincts. To get progressively excited. Thus, psychologically ready, I could penetrate her. She told me she thought I was “special”.

There’s been another girl like that, it was a little trickier. This time she came to my place after leaving a pub and there I was holding her hands and doing a lot of romantic stuff with her. Without any words; but I did not find her very attractive and also she was a little weird. I heard she had been in a psychiatric hospital. I think I had enough experience of this type of woman with Jane, who was working as a guard in an autism clinic.

There was a neighbor who was charming, the same style as [name redacted] but more woman-child like. She used to park her car in the parking lot and I had once left a note on the door of her car inviting her to a birthday party. I got no response. But luckily she was hired by the company where I worked and she liked me. I had offered her a tape with songs of The Cure, I had made this compilation myself (with love)… she told me she loved this band (how did I guess?) She had a boyfriend (a musician) … One day towards the end we had lunch together.

I met [name redacted] in a pub I used to frequent, I was with a guy who was a little stupid…Once I had thrown him out of my place because he said that the musicians I listened to were all junkies. I asked him to go away before I got angry, stupid asshole! In short, this guy pointed out a girl at a table and asked me if I knew how to approach a girl like this one… Pff, I do not know, I think I found his question really dumb. And I said, well, you’ll see and I went to see the girl and we got on well. Nothing else happened. Actually yes this is all a matter of lightness. To please a girl, who cares about sincerity? The girls do not understand this. You’re light, you win. You’re heavy, then even the tide wouldn’t take you out. It’s a bit cartoonish. But nobody cares, so let’s move on.

A few days later, I managed to find her … kind of “oh well I was just passing by”, and then that nonsense about “there’s no coincidences”, and blah and blah and blah, sure there’s no coincidences, I was there because I went there on purpose. In fact the chick was from Poitiers and was doing an internship in the travel agency next door. I offered for her to come with us the following Saturday, we’d go to a nightclub, etc., anyway, the usual crap. She agreed.

The evening arrived, tata tata tata! … At the end of the night I suggested that everybody come to my place. To eat pasta, pasta after a good night is ideal, it pumps you like crazy, like your stomach feels better and you get a great night’s sleep. Finally [name redacted] stayed with me, the others left. A girl named Sandy pointed out to me that I had gotten what I wanted from [name redacted]. I said yes. I’m sure she was jealous. Even though she was a beautiful blonde, nice shape, not totally stupid, she was a girl in need of a father  and who would run after anything that moved. One more potential Jane. And even if her superiority complex of being a sexy blonde was affected, I didn’t give a shit about her. She was the daughter of a boss in the company where I worked and the rumor was that she had dated all the members of the team. At a time, there was also a Spanish intern at the company, here name was [name redacted]. Pronounced: [Spanish pronunciation]. In Spain everything is more complicated; she was a prude, not without charm, but well-behaved. The German intern seemed hotter to me but much less interesting. And I do not even remember her name, let’s say her name was Hildegarde. Well I was just trying to get interested in girls, for the one time that I felt like it in my life! For once I was not expecting them to be suddenly interested in me. Well, it is clear that doing nothing is not what makes things happen.

Let’s go back to [name redacted]. She was a tall girl studying tourism. She had a narrow waist, large breasts, soft skin and a little problem with shagging. Also she squinted. I introduced her to the music I listened to, we had fun with the synthesizer. Once she did not want to fuck, while I was grumbling she said: “wait, I’ll do something for you.” She gave me a blowjob! Without much expertise but the heart was there. Having seen it up close, she declared that I had a nice dick. (I wasn’t expecting that much!) She was not unpleasant, but she wasn’t very invested in our relationship, she used to talk to me about her ex. boyfriend, she seemed very hesitant. It was shallow. Some weeks she was not there, taking classes in a boarding house far away. But it was not the kind of girl that you’d be worried about cheating on you. Too prudish, too transparent. And on the other side I never knew a girl who was this wet when being touched!

One night I had a dream, I woke u[ struggling, I was kicking all over the place and hit [name redacted] several times. It bothered me greatly. I was afraid that I would attack her for no reason. It was indeed a fear inside me, something that made me feel very guilty. I was afraid to be taken one more time by a violent frenzy. I dreamed that a huge snake was wrapped around me and was inexorably choking me, choking me, choking me. I struggled and it took me out of the nightmare. Immediately I woke up I was worried whether I had hurt [name redacted], I apologised as if I had hit her, and it was exactly the impression I had. Inwardly I told myself I cannot stay with her, I’m too dangerous. There will come a time when I will be able to control myself and then, anyway, what am I getting from her? She doesn’t fuck! During the night I want to take her but she turns her back on me. She sleeps. She sleeps like a 5 year old baby and she never jumps on me, not that she ever did. At one time I tried to sodomize her, but I definitely must be missing something. How do you do that anyway? “What are trying to do?” she used to say to me, half asleep. Then she would turn away and sleep. “And what about me?! But shit!” I wanted to do it! And this snake which had prevented me from breathing, what did it mean?

Then Jane called! [name redacted] had not been around for a week. Jane started the conversation with a phrase like “guess who it is!” She apologized for having the insolence to call, she had found my phone number and could not resist. We chatted a bit. It was at this time that she told me she wanted me to come over right away. I refused, arguing that I would not do it. That this was out of question! She called several times in these situations, at five o’clock in the morning. She left messages on the answering machine. I used to call her back. We had to establish a code: like “you let it ring 3 times” to avoid her mother. Jane was not romantic, not at all, she was Romanesque! From this moment, my story with [name redacted] was put aside; I explained to her that I preferred that we stop seeing each other. Blah blah blah, actually  Jane was around more and more, and I could not have two irons in the fire.

One morning, Jane took the train and visited me. She told me more details about her adventures; she was actually becoming a ‘dike’. She kissed girlfriends, and even another older girl who was allegedly raped when she was young and became a dyke. I pointed out that I wished to live nearer to her and be affectionate. She declined my initiative and that was it between us. At the end of the weekend I drove her back to Toulouse, she seemed happy to have talked. She seemed worried about these relationships and quite disturbed.

Jane called me one morning; she wanted me to come urgently. It seems to me she told me she had brought a guy home and that she had finally kicked him out. Suddenly, I had to come because … Because it was with me that she wanted to make love… So I drove the 300 km from Angouleme to Toulouse and at dawn, I joined Jane. She had left her mother’s house open. Her mother was not there of course, she had left for the weekend…. I went upstairs, I found her in her room. I approached her … she was like in a half coma, it was sunrise. She didn’t greet me but she knew I was there. She was curled and seemed rather disposed to sleep. However, she was exposing her ass. And it was me, fully awake, who did the rest.

Subsequently Jane introduced me to all her new friends. I knew the most prominent ones, but attitudes appeared to have changed much. Afternoons and evenings, gay bars and kissing sessions in apartments. All that remained superficial. Most of the time around 3 am, I was telling Jane that I was tired and I was going home … once she said that I could have gone out with [name redacted], one of her girlfriends. She was certainly interested … I told her that it was useless. I had known [name redacted] some years ago before I left Toulouse. I thought that, like Jane, she had become seriously uglier, as a result of some unknown illness. [Name redacted] previously had beautiful curly hair that she had replaced with a filthy discolored matt. While Jane had short and greasy hair. During one of those evenings, she took me to spend the night in the apartment of one of her friends who had left the keys … The place was nice, we slept … She kept talking to me about the movie “Basic Instinct,” I hadn’t watched it but she had told me about some scenes. In the morning when her energy was back she took advantage of my semi-consciousness to take my wrists and lock them, arms crossed. And jump on me like every other time she had done this. She quickly got tired or satiated, I do not know. Having not reached orgasm yet, while she lay on her stomach, I stood up behind her and took her doggie style while her vulva was still hot. She never allowed me to kiss her, even when we were about to leave. There was no question of any affection. She remained silent most of the time. I tried to respect this state.

In the company where I worked, there was a girl called [name redacted]. A nice dark haired woman, always friendly and pleasant, she was not a beauty, just an ordinary woman but endearing. She told me she wanted to make love with me, even just once, come on!  one would think that the girls outside Paris are bored to death! She was married and had two kids. She came to my place to have a coffee as people do once in a while. I felt she was tortured by her desire. I explained that I preferred not to do it … I was not in love with her and that based on that it was pointless. She accepted. I think I did well because that night I saw her husband wandering in my street. And I told myself “hey it looks like this one is looking for his wife, but she is not here, phew!

I was a bit tired of all this mess including some of my borderline behaviors. Like the girl I that I followed to her place, and who begged me to stop this nonsense. Or the one who asked me one night to drive her back to her place. At one point I slipped my hand on her knee and obviously she became hostile. There was even this girl who seemed interested, while we were talking I told her that I was beating my wife and that in addition she liked it and that I was proud of it. I must have said something like that, I’m sure. A good way to say “fuck off little bimbo!” Isn’t it? I needed stability, I thought. I had a job, maybe I was to build a life there. After all, it was enough to lie to someone, otherwise nothing would happen anyway. Hence the idea of dating agencies. It lasted a long time. After two or three dates, I changed my mind and decided to leave this town. To go to Paris, where there would surely be other people and not those bourgeoisie girls who think they are the center of the world (I am stupid sometimes). I arrived in Bagneux in February ’94, my first place was a 20 m2 apartment at 2,000 francs a month. I was forced to stack all my furniture due to lack of space. There remained a small pathway; I could not open the sofa-bed, impossible to invite people! My living space was therefore limited to the couch!

Since the time I worked in this company, having the keys of the offices, I got used to masturbate in the company premises. A kind of repressed exhibitionist desire in a public place where I found myself secretly. Or reminiscences of Jane who liked this type of behavior. I sometimes imagined making love in such circumstances to a fantasized person. The problem with prostitutes is perhaps more deeply connected to this fantasy in the sense that these places are not known in advance. Is the unknown sexual? I think so.

But I kept getting information about Jane. I would call her friends to get news indirectly. She worked in Paris, lived at her grandfather’s. So I went to this district, I had the addresses  … just in case. Then I got someone to call his father with a pretext to get her home address. She was with a guy and just had a daughter. One evening I called the number I had been given, I just said, ” personal injury claim!” And she hung up. I probably called again, I do not know, I drank a bottle of champagne before … anyway I called again. I asked her if she was happy? She said “ yes”, a yes to get rid of me maybe. She did not want to talk to me, or see me. That is clear. I must have been taken by one of my pathological states, again … I took the car and drove to her place, in fact not very far south of Paris, I considered this event as one of those coincidences that one can discount. I rang the bell. Said I wanted to see Jane. Her boyfriend went out and talked to me, so I spoke to him. I must have said a lot of incoherent stuff. I got the idea to warn him that Jane was not someone easy to understand or to live with. That he must be wary of her or whatever … I finally left. From that day, I could detach myself from this story completely. This does not mean that I didn’t get news about Jane.

I went to parties in Paris once or twice. I think that the first time I got drunk I thought I saw Jane sitting on a chair, I kicked the chair, and there was nobody on it. I got kicked out of the place from the place, someone punched me, the mark was there for a while. I decided not to drink as much.

I could have gone out with a girl I met at the Gibus. I felt the desire to talk, why to this one rather than another one? I do not know how, but I realised she was in my arms. Something which I accepted more out of kindness than desire. Then she called me offering to meet again, evasively I made her understand that I was not interested. I decided not to go out any more.

For as long as I can remember, my parents have been receiving weird calls. Often “she” had made other people call, dumb or anonymous. I do not think there have ever been insults, just incoherent speech. The last time my mother mentioned this type of call, I had already moved to Montrouge to a place a little more decent than the previous one and she told me the following: ” One night a guy phoned from Melun (Seine-et-Marne). He claimed to be the boyfriend of Jane, his girl was hurt because of me, and he does not know what to do!”. I reassured my mother on this subject, pointing out that I was not in contact with them, I had no intention of doing so and that it would eventually subside. End of those episodes.

Among my work colleagues, there was the receptionist, in her forties. She had helped me to get settled in my new place. A little later I moved into her previous lodgings because she has found something better. One evening I got invited to eat at a pizza restaurant with her daughter and her son-in-law. She drove me to the office where I wanted to pick something up. In the car, before I left her, she had a strange look, a tendentious look, so what did she want? This signal seemed insignificant and I paid no attention. The following Monday, she said to someone in the office, “oh, but there’s no more men!”. Indeed, one can see it like that.

I just wanted to have friends, something without strings attached. Yet, if it happened, I wasn’t interested anymore. I would rather stay home, alone, masturbating in front of the TV. I felt like I was entering a long phase of decline. I kept reviewing my life. A young girl joined the agency where I worked. Long black hair and an incredible white skin! I tried to give her attention, to find some common ground. She was from the South-West like me. Sometimes I wanted to give her kisses, when I succeeded, she would give me a look of disapproval. I felt unlucky! One evening when we had stayed a little late to finish a job, she asked me for a ride home because there were no more buses. We discussed this and that and work, and then we arrived in front of her house. To thank me she gave me two really endearing kisses. I must have started fantasizing; I don’t know … She was a somewhat harsh person who does not let herself fall easily into sentimentality. I didn’t know how to act. I tried to invite her to dinner, to the movies, but she refused. To talk about music, but she loved the Rolling Stones and REM. She was really stupid! During one more delusional episode, I went outside her home on a Sunday and waited. In the late afternoon I saw her go home in the company of another girl. I decided to call. Nobody answered. The following Monday, she told me that she had seen me, and reproached me for not having warned her. I pretended that I had just gone there for a coffee or something like that. blah blah blah. In fact I think she was a dyke … When I resigned from that company, she accepted my invitation to a restaurant. It was then I realize that she had absolutely no emotion, no sentiment, that she was not very friendly.

Subsequently, I did some interim job, freelance missions, and I started to discover the Internet, it was in full flight. Internet Explorer did not exist! Just Netscape 1 or 2 and other Web services: news forums, IRC. Withdrawal into myself was even stronger. I realized that I could only trust myself, that everything I had wanted I owed to nobody. Within months I was supposed to learn a new job: Web site creation. And I was determined to become well-known in this area.

I went to prostitutes once or twice. But what was enough most of the time was to roam the streets at night to see these girls or these trannies and go home without taking any. I also listened to erotic phone line or the pornographic free advertising. Sometimes I tried to call [these numbers]. Most of the time lines were off the hook. For some ads, in fact, the girl sends dirty pictures of herself (you’re never sure if it’s her). I masturbated watching these pictures and after a while I threw them away. If you pay you can get more photos … During a call, I met a girl who for a modest sum offered me to go to her place. It was in the suburbs. I went … It was a house, her boyfriend was there. They were apparently unemployed, they seemed be outcasts, they listened to U2. The guy seemed lost in some smoke delirium. He went out. While we were in the room, the girl explained that her boyfriend had a problem and he could not satisfy her, they had inherited the house but they were broke. This is all. I took her twice. She had a strangely affectionate attitude. She told me that she had lost custody of her kid and that her ex was called [name redacted]. I wanted to see her again, I called her. She agreed. Finally I did not go.

I hated weekends deeply, actually I hated everything. In Angouleme I had started doing something, which was to search for names of girls in the directory and then call them and insult them.  Like “you want to get fucked?” “you wet bitch!” I wasn’t often very original.  In those days, I called at random. Later I was particularly looking for girls called Jane.  As soon as I found a Jane, I had to call, I could not help myself. Then I insulted her as much as I could, repeatedly. Until I felt better.  “You want to get fucked, huh you love it!”.  So much hate in me, despair, misery.  Then began the exploration of the underbelly of the Internet … Well, it was not so bad,  after all, there was some communication in my life, if not communion.  This could be something like discussing on IRC with a girl that would eventually call me. I must have said I was a CEO and she was looking for a job … I can imagine what she would have been willing to do if I had suggested something to her.  From the beginning I had been in contact with [Cathy] … She has helped me configure my computer so I could develop my skills on the Web. It did not exceed 2-3 emails with a purely technical content.  Meanwhile I was doing some freelance work. And I was very busy trying to earn a little money.  Overall I spent more than I earned. But I was not too worried.  I had an  ongoing relationship with a girl from Quebec, who I met on IRC, we met there on a regular basis. Step by step we became impassioned for each other. I spent whole nights there chatting. We were writing to each other: I sent her audio tapes, she sent me chocolates and local cigarettes. I thought only of her. Sometimes we were making erotic scenarios, we imagined we were making love and we described the scenes. It was hot and it lasted for hours! We spoke on the phone, once or twice; it was especially me who was calling.  One day, I noticed on her Web page that Cathy had found a job, in [town redacted], I decided to contact her again.

Sometimes out of necessity, in order to be reassured about my manhood, I was going to Paris. In those districts, which are populated in the night time hours, by ladies in negligee. This time it was around the place de l’Etoile district, where the luxury whores work. Just to have a look. I left the car, wanting to inquire more closely about the appearance and the price. Mature women were asking for 1200 francs for one time in an apartment or in a parking lot. They put comments like ” I suck well ” or “you will get your money’s worth” Well, more than 1,000 francs was out of my reach. I said “I’ll think about it”  not to offend. In one of the main streets, a tall and remarkable young blonde is standing, she’s young enough. I ask for her price. I hear 500 Frs! I’m surprised and I say ok! Then the girl brings me in a Mercedes driven by another woman dressed for the occasion who takes a route that seems complicated to me. The events seem exaggerated compared to the usual. In these situations I’m not talkative. Here we are, we reached the apartment. It is at the moment of paying that I understand that there is a misunderstanding … on the price to pay. 1500 frs! Now I want to leave, I say I’m surprised. I try to get out of this situation. The blonde is a kind of bimbo with breasts like melons; the old one seems to be one of those tough matrons that you never joke with…  She goes to an adjacent room, apparently there are other people in the apartment and I had better find a solution quickly or things will get worse. The woman makes several threats, the bimbo claims I must deserve breasts like hers!

They realise that I have no money on me, never mind. We’ll go to the nearest cash machine to get the money. The two stay close to me, no point in trying to escape. The first ATM does not allow me to get the desired amount. Never mind there are other ATMs. There’s not much money on my account, the computer knows it and therefore it limits the withdrawal. But as so often in a short time interval, you can cheat by quickly going from one ATM to another one. I am intimately led to another ATM, the two ladies are euphoric, I take much more money than needed. They finally got 2000 francs in no time at all. The old one tells me that I will not be disappointed and that now they will take good care of me. These two make me more afraid than they make me want to fuck them. The older one who commands the operation would scare a kid. The sexy one has an intellectual level comparable to a laundromat. Back to the apartment, the bimbo makes a strip tease and in no time the old one equips me with a condom and starts oral sex. Finally the blonde stuck to my back does not do much. The old one, with a few comments on my virility, works greedily on my penis. I tell myself I’m going to come in her mouth as soon as possible so I can leave without asking for the rest. Curiously, for once I find that everything takes too long. Come on! Ejaculate and let’s not talk about it anymore. Fortunately everything comes to an end. They finally drive me back, without more problems I find my car. After this, I am determined not to fall again in such a trap. I‘m broke. It’ll be very difficult to repair this financial blunder. I’ve the feeling I got fucked!

No longer able to pay my rent, feeling a catastrophe is inevitable, I switch to Cathy, after considerable discussions by email, she eventually calls me. Soon after, she invited me over for my birthday. I saw her, I didn’t like her at all. But I would make an effort. Hey presto! I started living at her place at the end of 96. I was continuing my freelance business, but soon she wanted my situation to be stabilized. She worked in a internet company and I was recruited there because they needed a graphic designer. When you want something, nothing should stand in your way.  Otherwise the situation was rewarding in many areas, I was more stable, I became more responsible. Cathy is a legalistic person. Always a spirit of fairness, of following the rules. Anyway, from the beginning I preferred to masturbate than to fuck her. Our phase “we are in love and we have sex all the time (not everywhere)” was brief. Soon she had made arrangements to ensure safe but natural sex: blood test, a coil. I found it very interesting to follow her in this arrangement. This looked like what I always wanted; it had the color, but not the taste certainly. Cathy is an emergency room maniac (frankly when there is an emergency that’s not the place to go to). We were together for all daily activities and even for work … She encouraged me to meet deadlines, pick up [name redacted] at school. A structured life, square, uneventful. But I liked this set up, it made me feel safe, I managed to climb out of the pit gradually. Our financial arrangements were remarkable, she certainly liked numbers, I hated them. In any case, it allowed me to gradually again afford music/CDs… I took much advantage of it. When I brought something new like a CD of Cranes, not matter how great I thought it was, she never showed the least interest. So I remained alone with the music. She liked to watch anything on TV or listen to France-Info.

At first the 3 of us were forced to live in a 32 m2 apartment with only one bedroom which was reserved for [name redacted]. We slept in the living room on a sort of unbearable thing that gives you a terrible backache. This arrangement helped me to save some money. After many visits near [town deleted], the town where we worked we finally found a “small” house, in fact it was a mobile home in a former campsite. A resort for some retirees, and many had turned into a primary residence, it looked a little bit American. The rent was not excessive considering the size of the garden that we had at our disposal. I loved being outside during this period: clearing, arranging space, tinkering! So I spent my time outside. I always had a good reason not to accompany her here and there on weekends. Of course I could not refuse everything. I admit that, in a couple, it is sometimes good to take things easy. But no matter how things are done, the important thing is why!

One day she proposed marriage, despite having always imagined that I didn’t want to stay with her for my whole life. I agreed, a bit because of curiosity, a lot because of weakness. I imagined my life would remain in this state, well, I never see very far ahead … Besides, I was still communicating with my girlfriend from Quebec, she suddenly learned about  my wedding and stopped writing, nothing helped. (One wonders what the point in trying to have normal human relations is).

We talked about the desire for children, she wanted children, but later. She needed time to stabilize her professional life. I said I wanted to have children too, but I’m not sure I said I wanted to have children with her. In addition, I was not always in agreement with the education of [name redacted], and then I’m not his father and therefore it is always difficult to give an opinion about a situation where we have not always been involved. I thought that, ideally, I wanted to have my own children and that’s all, obviously in this case it was not possible. Cathy does not drink, does not smoke (in fact I was smoking my cigarettes outside – she hoped that I would quit), she does not go in strange places. On Sundays, she attended a cult’s sessions. I was masturbating in the garden! a little soap and water is always essential. It was not original, but it was cool!

Then the company we worked for stopped activities. We found a job in Paris. It became essential to find a new home. We went to live in this apartment. Cathy became very career oriented, her sense of business and money. I preferred a nice little company that had not made the best offer but allowed me to be peaceful and do what I please. Finally I think I made the best choice. Better than hers.

Our sex life was like: I suck first, then you fuck me. I suck you, you fuck me…I suck you, you fuck me. Well not always … I studied new positions. I took advantage of her docility to explore further. One day she had bought some Vaseline. She used it mainly for masturbating me, but if there were other uses, it did not occur to me immediately.  The penetration was easy, perhaps due to motherhood, I do not know, I’ve never experienced this change in a woman. I attempted sodomy, she said: “It is too big for such a small hole.”  In the end she was going to bed and I stayed watching TV, after a while, I settled with all the paraphernalia needed: towel, bowl of soapy water to bring myself to completion. Once I almost got caught. How would you feel if I told you I was thinking about you in those moments?  Bah, maybe I was thinking about you or maybe about others too, who knows! What does it change?  It’s like drinking, eating, shitting, vomiting, laying kids. And yet you can have your favorite drink, your favorite dish. For the rest, one does what one can. One chooses what one ingests, ah yes, that’s really beautiful!  But always possible.

Then in the spring of ’99 – Mary arrived. You know that, but I have things to say. I had always sought to make new acquaintances through the internet. Most exchanges ended quickly. I checked the forums, ready to detect a message that would allow me to start a discussion. At the time it is unclear where the Gothics were hiding. With you, there, we were right on a topic that I was passionate about. Bah, even if I was talking about this topic in my everyday life. I saw this topic as a secret garden that I could not share with anyone. You see it through everything you have just read. This subject had generated the best time of my life. It’s amazing how all this lightness that I once had within my grasp had finally left me again. Through unlikely chance. Actually love does not exist. Or what I was waiting for is not love. This is called fusion. And this involves so many constraints that it’s normal that I have never found it on my path. But I wasn’t even able any more to imagine how this could be reached. I had no more belief in this area. You have awakened it. Not on purpose. Are we as pilgrims on a path full of obstacles? Look at me. I’m riddled with unpardonable mistakes.

Over the weeks of our correspondence I have noticed that there was this innocence, an innocent endearing availability. And especially this fantasy, Oh fantasy, I missed it so much! You know. I appreciated so much speaking about other things than the material aspects of life, the trivial things! Other things than Cathyisms! Then I found things in me that I had dropped, suddenly maybe I loved myself better.

Then “we” wanted to meet. Perhaps, rather just “you”. I hoped at least that you find me decent enough to continue to explore this relationship. I slowly had to creep out of lethargy to find my way again. Then you stopped talking. I thought that’s it! I’m shown again that I am worthless. I don’t deserve trust. Not even a little friendship. Then I raved, raved as when I was after Jane. Wandering on the waves of confusion.

I saw in your eyes all your discomfort. All the “misfortunes” of Jane. Coming back and growing in me, I was overwhelmed. In my paranoia, I checked your emails and I understood everything that I hadn’t seen coming. I saw that I missed you, you betrayed me and hurt me to a point that I could not contain… Another Jane was taking shape. I wrote this email that was an electronic suicide. And for a week I had nausea similar to my nausea during all these years. I took the ‘Pornography’ CD with me, maybe I’ve always listened to this CD too much, maybe my life imitates the CD too much, or it’s this music that blends perfectly with me. I did not want to hear anything else. Everything will be limited to those 8 tracks. But there is something fundamentally positive in this record, the essential. All I am and nothing else, just me.

So I thought in the way I was thinking when I was with Jane. I thought if you need me, I’ll be there. Maybe a distorted view, perhaps, but mostly a conviction! I came back because I wanted to help you. I still did not know why or how. But I had to watch over you. So that people would not see you as I was and that you don’t become what I am. I had to catch up all these years when I never knew how to handle things. I also had to redeem myself from my mistakes. You were becoming a fundamental reason for my life to have a meaning.

You were gone but I still had this belief that you would come back. So maybe that, in addition to affection, this desire to hold your hand, made love blossom. I’m just a man … I was thinking of you all the time, with serenity. The most important thing was that I could do something for you, something extraordinarily positive and that I hoped would be beautiful. I was like a Christian who decides to build a cathedral for the Madonna. Now I only know how to make web sites and drawings. So that’s what I did by putting the best of myself into it. That better side than I had been made to hate, I was offering  it again. For me it was foolish, but my redemption.

To your star!

In you, there is a bit of all the girls or boys that I’ve known; it’s your richness in front of the universe. For even the most insignificant experiences are there in me. They are part of my emotional life, like you are. Whether I loved them much or little, they often represent the best of me and sometimes the worst. And I cannot forget them. Perhaps at some point we must go beyond that, otherwise, how to find the strength to give unconditionally. But I wanted you to know them. Not for you to like them, not for you to be like them. But for a knowledge to appear. So I can penetrate  them (figuratively-speaking this time) towards me. A form of resurrection. (eh.. not an erection!)

In September 2000, Cathy chased me away. I did not return home, I spent all my nights and weekends at the office to set up this site. Then long before that, I had started the tables. September, November, December, January, 2001 – nothing was ready; it’s as if I had had nothing to give. You were coming back too soon. It is as if it had been me, inside, that was not ready. My cathedrals were drafts, my dreams made of paper. All this was perhaps not meaningless. Life had other things to teach me and life was evolving quickly. I had faith, I had faith in the best there was in me. Is it to test this faith that I’m sometimes tempted to do the worst. How long would I wait? 6 months, a year. I would have waited 10 years if necessary.

I do not know how, sometimes, I manage to feel and know things about you. I guess I put myself in such a state of empathy (thank you for the word) that I can see things that seem unbelievable. It is better that I stop that, I end up getting lost myself. I’ve gone back to something simpler, such as speech and writing. Because it is a hundred times more effective.

Then you agreed to see me, in principle. But I do not want to take the risk of, sometimes, not being able to give, because there is in me this possibility that I might not forgive myself for being who I am. I want to be sure we meet for good reasons, frivolous, fun, innocent, light reasons. Like before, in the days of the golden age. I still want to, but I wanted you first to know that my life had not been simple and my heart had been hardened. So hard that it scared me.

I have a thirst for the absolute, like everyone else. A desire to find serenity, an inner calm. I pray for my need to give the best of myself without expecting anything in return. For all this crap you just read not to happen again. Sometimes I feel weak; sometimes I call for help, just for a little help that allows me to be confident. Obviously I want to know a strong love, as strong as possible, but not destructive. I think I suffered enough and I’m tired. Then the question is always the same, who? Where is she? I had to tell you all this because I ask for your forgiveness. I do not believe in God and, in any case, I do not expect absolution from him. It is not him that I hurt. I’ve hurt my humanity and with all my heart I want to drink the remedy. No, this can’t be true, I have just rewritten, verbatim, the pornography lyrics in French.

I think I need a vacation.

Long ago when I was eight years old, a Chinese or Vietnamese who was the wife of a policeman told me: “you will live with a beautiful woman. ” I could never believe this.

‘Jean’

How could we miss someone as dumb as this?

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