Big Bad Wolf

(4 January 2004)

The phone rang early this morning:

"Madame Sonia?"  Pygmalion’s voice.  It always makes me laugh when he calls me that, you don’t use Madame with a first name.

"Yes."

“When will you have time to see me?” 

“Today?” I asked, doubtful that would be possible.  He was slow to reply:  “Monday would be easier.”  “Monday then.”  “Noon.”  "Noon."

Sent to "pygmalion" the 04/01/2004 at 23h59 consulted by "pygmalion" 

Master me

Me who is

So disobedient

Will you know

How to tame me?

Received from "pygmalion" the 05/01/2004 at 09h40 

Monday lunch:
Short skirt, heels, g-string, bra, blouse.
Long spanking
Long blowjob
Long penetration
Your body does not belong to you more anymore.

Sent to "pygmalion" the 05/01/2004 at 21h26 consulted by "pygmalion" 

I am

here

While awaiting

you

are here

(8 January 2004)

Khalid and I had brunch in a trendy café, and then we went to his place.  There was a draftsman’s table was set up in the entryway.  Above were shelves lined with jars full of brushes and pencils, tubes of paint, and crammed full of sculptures.  Sculptures were also lined up in the kitchen on all the shelf space that wasn’t being used for food and utensils.  The entire living room had been transformed into a studio; it was full of sculptures which were underway.  His bedroom was small room off to the side, with a wall of shelves full of books and more sculptures.

While I took a few shots of his sculptures, he began assembling one for the backdrop for the portrait I was planning to take.  Suddenly overtaken by a migraine, I curled up on the couch in his room, feeling like napping for a few hours.  He came in and sat beside me, caressed my hair gently, and then brushed it, and then gave me a full body massage.  I gave him a massage in return; we spent the rest of afternoon hugging on the couch.  “It’s the touch,” he said “that you miss the most when you’re alone.  “Yes.”  That’s what’s hardest to live without.  “You need to be babied, to relax, and be taken care.   Here, curl up like this.”  He scooped me up and arranged me in a foetal position.  “Are you turning me into a sculpture?”  He climbed on top of me, spreading his arms and legs apart so that I was completely covered: “Oh no you don’t, big bad wolf, you go away, I’m protecting this little girl.  What, oh oh, there’s a foot sticking out.”  He tucked my foot under the cover of his body.  “You see big bad wolf, you can’t get her, so you might as well go away right now!”  And it’s true.  I’d really like to find a man who’d cook for me, baby me, and make me feel taken care of.  “Is your migraine gone?”  “Yes.”  “You see, you just need to relax more, get some rest, and be taken care of.”  How true. 

I was feeling completely relaxed.  “When was the last time a woman landed on your couch and you gave her a massage?”  “Last weekend!”  He laughed.  “And you’ve got another date from the club lined up for tonight, right?”  “Yes, with the net we could start a whole new lifestyle with multiple parallel relationships.”  We laughed together.  “That’s not a bad idea.”  He brought chocolate and dried figs, fed me by hand, kissed the chocolate, and served me a bowl of thyme in hot water, which was delicious.  As we cuddled, we kissed a little, in an affectionate manner rather than sexual way.  I don’t know if I could be sexual with him, I just don’t feel physically attracted to him, what a shame.  He’s a very interesting and sweet man.  There’s always something mysterious in what makes one person physically attractive and another not. 

Copyright © 2011

Old slippers

(20^th December 2003)

Meeting people through the net is similar to meeting people in “real life,” except that during the getting to know each other stage there seems to be a lot more room for fantasy.   You also much more likely to meet people that you probably never would have crossed otherwise.  I wrote to Khalid because I liked his photo: he appeared friendly, warm, and relaxed.  I remembered my friend Véronique saying that if my ex-husband was as complicated as Hervé, what I need is a man who is like an old pair of slippers.  Khalid looked like an old pair of slippers, I liked what he’d written, and I love men who’ll cook for me!

"Small recipe for happiness: Take a woman and a man. Choose them free, available and open. Put them in together to see if their tastes and colors match naturally agree. If you notice a tremor, cover lightly to blend the two flavors while keeping their own essences ... And if, and only if the sauce is successful and stable, start preparing the dessert surprise: a little little vanilla or a little chocolate ... Enjoy it as long as possible and without moderation."

Sent to "jazz" le 22/12/2003 at 19h31 consulted by "jazz"

I’d love for you to prepare me a dish.... 

Received from "jazz" le 22/12/2003 at 14h41 

Hello
I accept with great pleasure. If you wish we can get to know each other by phone? The kitchen has meaning only if it is an opportunity to share. And in cooking as in anything I like to have fun inventing. I am also an artist, I use several techniques: modelling, painting, drawing, writing. I create an imaginary bestiary; it excites me because I became interested in very different fields.  I'll tell you specifically if you call me. I divide my time between my artwork and a job in the communication, which allows me to stay relatively fresh, since I work with creative people. And you kind of photos do you do?
See you soon I hope

Khalid

I called and we had a comfortable conversation.  Even though I wasn’t feeling well, I decided to accept his dinner invitation.  He came by here first, and he was just as I’d imagined him from his photo: easy going, friendly, and sincere.  I was happy that this time a man wasn’t coming up just to look through my work, but also to share his own.  He’d brought along a book with stories, drawings, and photos of his sculptures.  He’s constructed an entire imaginary world, which is quite amazing.  We agreed to collaborate, to transpose his world into a screenplay.  At dinner he spoke of his dream of having a house a few hours from Paris, so as not to be too far from the bustle of the city, with a garden, and a big barn to use as a studio.  I love that dream.  He’s been on the net for about a year now, looking for a woman to settle down and have children with.  To complete the dream he wants a family. 

(23 December 2003)

At my session with my psychiatrist, I said:  “I have to resolve my incapacity to let go of my marriage.  I still think of my husband as my best friend.”  Is he?  Yes, I think so.  Though I don’t think the feeling is reciprocal anymore.  He’s become an imaginary best friend.  “The thought of being completely and utterly alone is unbearable.”  “My husband hasn’t let go entirely either.  I still have the keys to his place, and when I go by to pick up my mail, there’s always a stack of newspaper clippings, articles he knows will interest me.  That’s an old habit of his.”  If I’d really been ready to let go when I left, I would have given a forwarding address to the post office.  My psychiatrist wondered why I don’t go back to him.  After all we’re just separated.  I know with certainty that I don’t want to go back to Loïc, and yet I can’t find it in me to start looking for a lawyer.

Sent to "jazz" the 23/12/2003 at 20h59 consulted by "jazz" 

It was a pleasure to meet you.  See you on Sunday! 

Received from "jazz" the 23/12/2003 at 21h58 

Hello

The pleasure is shared. You have real talent.  I really like your artwork.

You scratch reality to bring out the strange.  Especially the women's bodies barely perceptible bathed in shadow. I'd be very curious to see shapes of faces. I have today sent a color copy of a picture that is both simple and very disturbing, I found it in a trade magazine.  Fantasy without much effect. You'll see.  I accept your proposal to help me with enthusiasm if you still agree, of course, and work on one of my stories in order to present my work on the side of Hollywood. It seems so inaccessible (it is already a dream only imagine that this could be possible!) I'm ready to work like crazy to try my luck. I will present my text on Sunday. In this connection about what time do you want me to come get you? For lunch or afternoon?
Here is my personal mail to communicate directly. I already gave my landline number as well. See you soon, Khalid 

On Sunday, I’m having lunch with Khalid, and then I’m going to take photos of him with his sculptures.  It should be a good weekend.  I feel nervous though, I’ve been alone a lot and when I’ve been alone I get afraid if I have to see people several days in a row.  I don’t know what the fear is exactly, it’s a feeling like I’ll be thrown off balance, I’ll lose my equilibrium.

During my session with my psychiatrist today, I talked about an abandonment dream, and how I hold my breath every time I buzz on his interphone, afraid that he won’t answer.  He talked about my not going back to my ex: “Vous avez peur de ne pas prendre votre pied”.  Prendre votre pied, literally, to take your foot, means to get pleasure from something.  Why does he always come back to that, rather than the fear of psychological abuse and physical violence, etc.?  Oh, I know, he could be suggesting that I’d rather hang onto a sexless and violent relationship than find one with pleasure.  He knows I get a lot of physical pleasure out of my relationship with Hervé, but at the same time it’s been an emotionally masochistic relationship.

Copyright © 2011