Potential Extravagance

"Why don't you yourself dress yourself as daringly as you appreciate that we ladies do?" Deborah asked a bit smugly. Her bikini was sortof, or you might say almost, see-through.

"Ah, well! To some extent I fear being awkward,"  Gabriel told her.

"Why?"

"Most of all because there isn't much that says I can get away with it!"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that few people would accept it from me!"

She sneered a little. But she also showed him a warmth that sort of said to him that she, for one, would. He wasn't sure about this, but perhaps she even would be able to piggy-back upon her appreciation for being sexy.

After thinking about it for a while, she looked at him and said: "To the extent that I should dress sexy, so should those that I can appreciate, I think! Now if you want to be appreciated, why don't you go ahead and try it?"

He seemed to smile at the this thought, perhaps smugly, but (even so) gently enough for her to feel inspired to try to have him make a go for it. "How about you and I go to the park, and there you take off your shirt to begin with."

"Yeah, sure, I can do that! But what do you mean should be the continuation?"

"I'll see to it that there is a continuation!"

 "You sure?"

"Kinda!"

"OK! I'll trust you for it! "

"OK, let's go!"

Twenty minutes later they arrived at the park. It was fairly full of people.

"How about you take it off right away?" she asked.

"Alright,"he answered and did so.

"Alright!" she said."How about you and I go buy us each a hot dog now?"

"OK!"

They walked a few hundred yards to a hot dog stand. When there, some old lady examined his torso. Then she smiled smugly.

He looked at her, then at Deborah. But Deborah was looking in the other direction, so he put his hand on her shoulder.She turned and looked at him. "What?" she inquired.

"Debbie, I doubt that anyone but some really old ladies feel that way about male extravagance!"

She looked indignant. "And what do you call me, then?" she asked. "I felt it from the beginning and you should be able to care about it!"

A guy who was standing before them in line for hot dogs turned and looked at them, examined them a little. Then he smiled and looked a bit more closely at the girl who seemed to appreciate male state of undress.

She looked back. He was in his thirties, reddish blond and kind of handsome.She kind of smiled, but restrained herself passably form it.

The guy almost smiled back.Then he looked at Gabriel, and back to her again.

After smiling once more, he turned around and whispered something to black guy who seemed to be standing in line with him. He turned his head. Bowing his head a little, he smiled and frowned faintly at her. Then he looked at Gabriel's bare upper body, examining it and smiling a bit differently.

Gabriel looked around. he saw the old lad, who had an air of both joy and, somehow, indifference. Turning to look in the other direction, he spotted a fairly young woman, camping on the grass,whom he could imagine had perhaps appreciated his torso. But he could hardly be content with this small perhaps of appreciation.

Looking back at Deborah, he found that she looked at the two guys. She was carrying his shirt, so he took a step towards her and took it, which seemed to startle her a little. She watched him redress and asked: "Do you really feel that you can stand for anything of courage about it! Why do you feel that you always should be dressed?"

"As I said, I don't feel I'm appreciated enough for it!"

"I doubt that you could feel that there is a compliment for everyone who is exciting to look at! There's a hidden appreciation here and there, which you should learn to recognize!"

Gabriel saw the black man look at them and shake his head. He also saw the old lady, kind of smiling, as it seemed. But Deborah looked serious and thoughtful.

"What do you mean," Gabriel asked her, "that there could be of an appreciation that is not there for men who don't expose themselves?"

"I mean that really most chicks do feel that there really can be something quite attractive with a nude male body!"

Something made Gabriel turn his head towards the young woman whom he had looked at a while ago. She sat there staring thoughtfully in a direction where he couldn't tell if there was something to be watching. Perhaps, he told himself, she somehow senses this, and wonders how to be free from restraints that bind her from caring to show appreciation, when and if she felt some.

Looking back at his friend Deborah, he sighed. "Alright, I'll try a little more," he said. She smiled at him. "Good! Begin with taking the shirt off again."

He sighed again, and stripped it of.  She smiled, went forwards to him, and hugged him tenderly. he felt her nipples against his skin, and smiled. Then he grabbed her wrists (with fairly good gentleness about it), looked her in the eyes and asked: "Why do we seem to be so different about showing off? What do you think?"

She looked nonplussed at first, then answered: "We don't seem different to me, in that sense! For me it's about that we don't have the same calling about it! For some reason guys don't feel it's about their own exposure  -  but that it's just about ours!"

"But, ... You know what? It's not I who feel that it's about anyone's exposure, really! Somehow, it seems, though, that as you and some others tend to appreciate showing off, it becomes difficult to resist you!"

"Oh! We don't really feel we have to expose ourselves, except for that men really want us to! It's not easy to resist every male insinuation about as as those who aught to be as cute and sexy as ... as we feel we have to be for the sake of those who do appreciate it. ..."

"Are you sure they all appreciate it without you insinuating that they should?"

"I feel sure they don't appreciate nothing of worth for it. We don't feel we all have to be cool about it. Rather it's they who don't appreciate us if we don't encourage their appraisal of prurience! ... But that isn't because we are all prurience, but it's because they don't appreciate the rest of us without feeling it!"

The two guys who had looked at them earlier had just bought their hot dogs, turned and looked at them, while beginning to walk. The old lady looked at them. Turning his head, Gabriel looked at the young woman he had noticed before. She somehow looked a bit detached than before.

Deborah put her hand against Gabriel's cheek. Turning his head softly towards her, she showed that she saw whom he was looking at. She stared at her for a short while, then looked at him, insinuating that she wondered if he felt her appreciation was very important.

He felt nonplussed. But thinking about it, he too wondered if he felt that. "Look, I don't know if there's anything especially interesting about her! I really couldn't find anyone else, except you, who could, even perhaps, prove your point to me  -  the point that there could be an appreciation out there, which I could learn to discern as ... an uplift or so."

"Do you feel like talking to her?"

He looked surprised. "Yeah, I guess."

She took his hand and pulled him towards her. When they got to her Deborah smiled and said: "Hi there!"

The girl looked up. "Who are you?" she interrogated.

"Eh, we just felt that you seem to appreciate good things in life! Do you feel that we are right?"

She looked surprised. "Sort of, I guess. ..."

"Then do you appreciate his looks, without a shirt on?"

"What?"

Gabriel looked embarrassed. "Debbie, no, I can't!"

"Oh, come on Gabe!"

The girl giggled. "The two of you should manage on your own, I think."

"Oh " they both said, and started leaving.

The girl looked thoughtful. "Even so," she added, "I feel that it was kind of splendid to happen to get your acquaintance. ..."

The Untruthful Insinuations

I was sitting in a train and observed the girl on the opposite-side seat. I was traveling backwards, she forwards. Behind her sat a few other people, two of whom I recognized. One of those two, a woman in her forties looked at me, then bent over and and whispered something to a fellow who faced the other way. After a while this person turned his head and gave of something of a cold smile. Meanwhile, the lady who had whispered to him said something to what probably was two other friends of them both. One of these, a guy in his mid thirties looked at me with mock envy. A woman, whom she had seemingly also addressed, turned around. She looked both haughty and insinuative of herself as virtuous in never having to be haughty. this frightened me.

The girl whom I at first had looked at seemed to notice that I was troubled. She wrinkled her eyebrows a little in concern. Then she tried to smile.

Looking at her I drew my breath. "I'm worried," I told her, in a voice that I hoped would not be heard by the people behind her back, "because those who sit behind you seem to fake that I try to pretend I'm their kind of a fellow, or something!"

She seemed concerned in more than one way about me saying this. In a sense, it seemed, we who had not met before, could preferably have nothing to say to each other. But in another sense she seemed concerned about me and what I was telling her.

"It seems to me that they try to pretend that I am into them as people I ask favors of," I told her.  now I began feeling that there would perhaps be a point made against them if they did overhear me talking about them.

"Oh," the girl said. "Why do you tell me about it?"

I sighed. "Because I felt I had to grab the opportunity to say something about while it's happening. ... Also it's because there's a possibility, I hope, that you could care about it!"

There was a mumble from behind her. It seemed to startle her a little. Then she looked at me with a curious eye.

"Why do you look at me like that?" I asked.

"Because it seems that you could be someone they would take for granted as more real about pressuring them than there can be in you!"

"Right" I said. "I'm relieved that at least you can realize it"

She smiled. "Yeah! ... They said that you are about trying to manipulate them into thinking that you didn't have them fake about you that they would be swell and cool and so!"

"I don't feel that I want them to be about it, but I bet they would want me to feel gracious about them for it just the same!"

"Yeah, that could be so!" she answered.

"There's an absolute nonsense," I said, "to the weird gratitude I am supposed to have  -  and that I don't have. I only find it in me to sometimes be able to relate to it!"

She looked at me and answered. "How come then, those who insinuate that stuff don't find themselves aware of the fact that they thereby seem to believe, with no good reason for it, in lies that are similar to claims about themselves as stupid enough to never assume there's a check to be made or a certainty to be had?"

"It's because they don't feel that kind of self-disgust that I and probably you too would feel for having such an attitude!"

She looked thoughtful in a way that put me a bit of ease. "How come," she asked after a while, "do they affect you so easily?"

"There's a difficulty about them," I began; then I had to think for a while, before continuing: "I think it is that they do not feel guilt about not having gratitude at all, but still are able to insinuate that they, as opposed to for example me, would be able to know about guilt or not. At least I think it's that kind of a thing, but somehow they're to weird for me to be quite certain about!"

She thought about it. This time, to my relief, it didn't seem to insinuate that I should have to worry about something. "Do you know what? They do seem to be insinuating that they are welcome among all other people but those that they pretend aught to be grateful for seeming cool or self-assured in ways that you for one don't really care for doing."

"Then I would want it said about me that I don't represent such weird types of pride and vanity. Because they always seem to be insinuating that if I say I don't, then I am hiding something, somehow. I usually can't figure out what people believe I am about then, but they do become arrogant and tend to insinuate that they might have an asshole, to be dealing with, who slyly pretends to be ... an unusually worth it type of stuck up."

"Then I can speak to my sister and tell her to try to say that about you."

"Thanks you! Then perhaps their lies will be exposed as what they are!"

She looked at me and seemed to insinuate she wanted that resurrection for me. She then smiled and took her purse, rose from her seat and took two steps towards the door. There she turned to me and asked: "Why don't we meet again and try to talk about how come they're able to do such stuff?"

Grateful for this, I said: "Well of course! Sure! Let's meet again sometime!"

She took out her mobile phone and asked for my number. I told her and then she called my phone for half a second. I looked at her number on it, thanked her again and told her my full name. She told me hers and left. Two minutes later I waved at her at the station where she had gone off. She waved back briefly.

One day later I sent her an SMS that said: "Let's communicate via email. Because I think ther can be some misinterpretations between us otherwise."

She sent me hers, then i sent her mine.

A few weeks later I called her. After two signal she answered. "Sonya speaking!"

"Hey Sonya! It's Jim! Do you remember me? Ehm, I'm the guy who talked to you on the train. ... Uhm, oh. I hope I'm not calling at an inconvenient time for you!"

"Not quite," she said, "but a little. ...  Perhaps I can call y9ou back later!"

"Tonight?"

"Yeah, OK, at seven."

When she called she told me about that her sister had tried to say something to some people I had mentioned in an email. "But it's not, "she said, "cool for them, it seems, to believe what she says about you!"

"I see," I answered thoughtfully. "Are they about cool as the type of faking that seems to free them  -  or some other people  -  from responsibility?"

She drew a deep breath. "I'm not sure about it! I'll ask my sister, then I'll call you back."

Almost half an hour later, she called again. "She said that they're only sort of cool about trying to feel that the truth is not a very important responsibility! Rather they seem to be into having it there's no truth without lying enough!"

I was startled. "Oh! That's what they think!"

... and Who Else Might Play that Game

Simon, Beatrice and a few others were part of a small gang who was playing a game of look-alike trickery. Doing that, they were all more or less proud about being able to con and pretend to be at least one other person each. "It's we who can deal with telepathy smarter than they can." Simon once told Elvira, whom he was trying to get laid with.

Now Elvira didn't exactly keep her mouth shut about it. Fairly soon many people in their community had heard about their aspirations. But the gang were lucky enough to have someone who looked much like Elvira, and who could talk about it in a way that seemed silly in a sense so that people tended much to ignored it. To the extent they didn't, they got curious about it so that there was a good chance for her and her friends to use knowledge of it as a bate. Using that bate they tempted people to try it themselves.

Most of those who tried the trickery felt that it was difficult to figure it out thoroughly without keeping it more or less secret. Then, also, while experimenting with their telepathy and cons, they eventually began to do things to people that they did not want those people to find out. So hardly anyone quite wanted quite everybody to know. Those few who did were distrusted and ridiculed, partly both by those by those who wanted it to be kept secret and by very many of those not introduced to it all  -  most of whom simply did not believe them.

As years went by, some of the look-alike-con players had children. Some of those were seemingly their look-alike person's kid, especially for the male players. But many who were into the occult game did start families in ordinary ways, often living seemingly only ordinary lives.

After one more generation, there was a child with two parents who both were raised into belief in belief in such con-game telepathy. As part of his child-play, he was played many a game for learning the (for this family only kind of secret) stuff. While doing it, he started to try to have telepathic communication with insects, frogs and rats. Dong it, he got frightened. Because there were signs that those animals were cunning in telepathy, not just the small stuff his that society and his parents seemed to feel they were.

When he told his mother about this, she looked doubtful but curious. After a few hours, her husband returned from work, and they talked to him about it. At first he didn't say anything, only looked as if there were things about it that started his mind working. But at last he asked: "Are you sure the rats weren't into pretending to understand what these things are about?"

"It's certain," his wife answered, "in that we have tried to fool them about why we try to study them! They reacted by certifying that we seemed ridiculously into believing that of ourselves!"

"Really?" he asked bluntly.

"Yeah, really!" both his wife and his son replied.

"... and the mice too, I think!" the son added.

"Really ..." his father said again.

"Mh, yeah," the mother said."And worse than just that, it seems they are into trying to fool us all, I mean people in general!"

"But .... " the father began.

"It's not they who seemed to know it when our parents first started with this stuff!" his wife filled in. "I've already thought about that! But they do seem to be catching on with it!"

"Oh! Do you mean it's because we're doing it?"

"Perhaps. ..." she replied. "But they seem to be cunning in a different sense than that it's from us they've learned most of it, I think."

Her husband sighed. "Does this mean that we can be spied upon as long as they're near us, or is there something long-distance too about their fashion of telepathy?"

"It seems that they're into mostly the nearby stuff. That's why I said that their cunning of it different."

"So I thought," he said with a little smile on him.

She sighed. "It's not as safe as it can seem, even so. They seem to be learning us for it!"

"Damned them!" He looked at his son and wife. "Why don't we call those expert exterminators of rats? I mean they wouldn't be experts, would they, if they got stuck in their traps of spying by telepathy!"

"Yeah! Or let's just get a cat!" his son burst out.

"A cat! You're right. Let's try that."

"I'm afraid I'm allergic to cats," his wife said.

He wrinkled his eye-brows. "Oh shit! Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"It didn't seem important!"

"Do you think it's not? I want a family without that!" He looked at their son. "Even you, perhaps?"

"What?"

"Do you think you're allergic to cats?"

"No!"

His father peered a bit scornfully at him. "Are you sure? I mean do you pet them ever? And are you sure they don't get you ill when you do?"

"The son though about it. "Yeah, I fondle them at times. Once when I did it a lot, mom got ill afterwards, but I didn't."

His father smiled, then frowned and looked at his wife. After a while he drew his breath. "I don't feel that you can't be living with Jessica's former boyfriend, and then pretend to be her for the rest of your life!"

"But what if Jessica finds out?"

"I don't know. You'll have to solve that problem!"

She looked thoughtful a while before replying: "No, I can't!"

"I think you could've done it if there was money in it all!"

She sighed and thought about it. "Yeah, alright, perhaps I can," she said at last.

"Do I have to help you, or will you manage?"

"I'd prefer if you did, but I can handle it  -  preliminarily!"

A few months later Jessica's ex had seemingly moved out of town  -  with a new girlfriend or something, it seemed.

The cat that she moved out of the way for seemed to catch mice quite well, but was not quite keen on rats. But even the they seemed inhibited by it.

Den Falska Sanna

Sara och Patrik satt på en parkbänk och diskuterade det sociala livet i deras grannskapsområde. Sara hade kommit in på en namnförbistring med två personer som hette Susanne och kallades Sanna båda två. Hon hade sagt att dom två var lika elaka, apropå att Patrik berättat något den andra sa..

Patrik flinade en smula hånfullt. ”Så snart hon sa det,” förkunnade han ”så kallades det för att det egentligen bara berörde den andra Sanna.”

”Det är den andra Sanna som har en halvbror eller nåt, som får det till att hennes namn är att tolka som ett tecken på att sanning är sagd, så snart hon pratat!” svarade Sara.

”Hm.” Patrik såg fundersam ut. ”Det kanske är så att det är henne det egentligen beror på att folk tar det som en säkerhet att ingen behöver lägga sej i om det antas ha moral i sej att fabulering och förtal ifrån endera ses som värdegrund för att se sej som moral!”

Även Sara såg ut att fundera. ”Jo, det kanske det är,” började hon lite tveksamt, ”Men har vi då i hennes namne att medvetet utnyttja den satsningen? För det verkar för mej som att hon inte varit klar på att det gick att göra så. ... Fast jag vet inte om jag har en illusion av nåt slag!”

”Jo det har du lite! För det är den Sanna som står för att sexutnyttjande inte ska etableras som ens en möjlighet att det finns i henne!”

”Hur menar du?”

”Det jag syftar på är att när hon var hembiträde åt Karlssons, har jag hört, så psykade hon eras ungar till att förstå sej som fel ute om dom trodde det var hon och inte dom själva som velat dominera och antyda sexualitet ha med saken att göra!”

”Jonas och Pernilla? Tror du att dom - eller en av dom - blev sexutnyttjade av henne?”

”Ja, Jonas sa det. Pernilla var då för liten för att märka, påstod han.”

”Var det Pernilla som blev utnyttjad?”

”Det framgick inte. Men jag kan tro det var både det ena och det andra. Fast å andra sidan tycker jag inte att det verkar säkerställt att det inte finns nåt annat med i bakgrunden, som till exempel att han inte förstog att hon trodde sej ha att sköta deras toalettplikter,”

”Trodde sej ha? Var det inte hennes uppgift, menar du?”

”Han sa att hon försökte värja sej mot att det skulle få heta att hon gillade att göra det till att det var han och hans syster som låtsades hon borde göra det åt dom.”

”Men hade hon det till uppgift eller inte?”

”Ja, hon hade det till uppgift, men även det att vänja dom av vid att behöva hjälp, var det.”

Sara såg fundersam ut. ”Har du sagt nåt till deras föräldrar eller till Pernilla om det här?”

”Lite. Jag har sagt att det verkar som att den där Pernilla inte borde ta för givet att det var viktigt att se sej som lysten efter att upptäcka driftmässigheters behag, eller notera det som en hedrande attityd när någon annan ser henne som det.”

”När sa du det?”

”När hon var elva.”

”För tre år sen, alltså!”

”Mmh.” muttrade han medhållsamt.

”Det var ju då som hon hade synliggjort sin könsdrift som, ehm, som ovanligt bra att ha till att stödja sej på – som om det var till för ansvarskänsla att ha den!”

Patrik såg lite frågande ut.

Sara tittade på honom. ”Hon hade åtminstone varit på en massa folk på ett provokativt sätt, med sexualitet nära till hands,” förklarade hon.

”Oj då!” utbrast Patrik.

Sara flinade till lite. Men hon såg fundersam och kungjorde: ”Det måste väl vara att den andra Sannas halvbror haft dom båda till att verka få det till att hederlighet säkerställer sej så snart det finns en ytligt sett viktig attityd om att vara den som så att säga är 'sann'!”

”Jo, så kan det vara!” svarade han, och funderade lite grann. ”Jag tror det är,” la han till, ”Sannas fel att ingen bryr sej om att hederlighet inte är att bara anse sej ha rättvisa med sej. För det är hon som ser till att det verkligen är det det verkar vara när ansvarskänsla är på piedestal! Sen kan det komma an på den andra Sanna att fåfängt proklamera det vara ansvarsfullt att därigenom se sin egen eventuella arrogans som värdighet den också!”

”Menar du att arrogansen får ett värde, enligt den ena av dom, genom att den andra har det till att det är hederligt att ytligt se sej som moral?”

”Antagligen har hon det till att till och med i arrogans har man ett värde om man ser till att inte erkänna att man egentligen ville ha den där arrogansen till att verka vara ansvarsfull och berättigad.”

”Det tycker jag liknar det att Jonas är arrogant nu för tiden, och ser sej som moral bara för att han kan säga att det är Pernilla som inte vill inse att man kan undvika att nedvärderas om man bara sätter sig över dom som inte fattar att dom är fåniga eller nåt. Med det tror jag han menade ungefär att en del inte erkänner att begär är det som vinner i förlängningen. Fast vad han då har det till är att jag ska se det som ansenligt och bra att låtsas vara förmer när arrogans och/eller sexualitet fås till att verka va nåt bra.

”Jag tror till och med,” fortsatte hon, ”att det inte är ansvarsfullt att se honom som att han inte fattar sej som att han är sexutnyttjare, och har att se det som att han ansvarsfullt förnedrar alla som ... Hur ska jag säga? Ehm. Han vill ha det till att han har rätt att förolämpa med att tydliggöra sin sexualitet som förmer därför att han är arrogant och det är på sätt och vis bara i arrogans som han tydliggör även andra som urartade, falska eller på annat sätt svåra att ha med att göra.”

”Tror du att hans avslöjande till mej om Sanna också var sånt?”

”Gissningsvis så, tycker jag.”

”Oj då!” svarade han och såg besvärad ut.”Men att han ändå avslöjade sexutnyttjande Sanna, det beter väl kanske att arrogans trots allt är på sätt och vis en bra egenskap?”

Sara flinade lite. ”Äh! Det kan jag nog inte ... Hm. ... Hm, ja, det är på sätt och vis så!”

The Frog Torturers

On a summer camp for both girl scouts and boy scouts, there was a dark shadow over one of the boy scout tents. It was a tent with five boys in it, three of which were honest. But there were two guys there that had somehow gotten the opportunity of being there as impersonators of ordinary scouts, whom they - but not many others - were not going to attend. One of these two was fat and hardy, the other one was thin and superficial. Both of them were very sneaky.

At one point they had managed to trap a few frogs. “Let's torture them frogs!” the fat guy said with a special type of authority that only he seemed able to have. “Yeah! Let's do that” the thin guy answered with a certainty in his smile, there in order to involve the devil in the context. He very often used this smile, as did his fat buddy often use his special type of authority.

Soon the two evil boys learned that tortured frogs could be manipulated into pretending everybody else, but not their torturers, were bad. Both the thin guy (an advocate of the Devil) and the the fat guy (a reincarnation of the Beast) felt this was something they really wanted. “Perhaps,” said the Devil's advocate, “we could even pretend that it's Jesus who feels the way our stupid torture victims feel! Then perhaps we can scare some people from believing in Him!”

“That's a great idea!” the Beast answered, and the two of them began systematically having the frogs humiliate good people into believing there's not any resurrection in Jesus Christ. Somehow they also managed to seem to be honest themselves, by using the confusion of the good fellows for the sakes of their own superficialities. In this they also honored their own impersonations, by dealing with the guys they pretended to be as if they were the slier ones.

“For the sake of humility,” a female camp manager proclaimed, “we should all proclaim that we don't believe in Jesus Christ, for the sake of making security real about that we don't have to be trapped by those vanities anymore!”

She was talking to three other camp managers, two of which were female. One of those said: “Yeah, I agree!” while the male one bitterly said: “I proclaim that we should instead feel that we are all superb in the sense that Jesus has to be for our sake and only that. Because, if we do so, we can seem to be good and thereby be able to manipulate the kids for the sake of our own power over them.”

The forth person in the company looked at him. She seemed rather cautious about what he said. She looked down to the ground and answered in a fairly low voice: “I assure you we don't really need to involve those who could be into that we should have to be caring and so about the standards that the good have.”

“Let's then,” the one who spoke first said, “honor those guys who pretend to be Arnold and Tobias. Because it's they who proved to me that our humility should be about there not being a Jesus Christ about on this camp. Nor any beliefs in the morals that could spring from such beliefs.”

“Are you sure,” the man asked, “that the kids wouldn't involve Him in it all? We might have to watch it with some of them!”

The woman who was the second to speak responded to him: “Don't worry! We'll manage to humiliate those few who do it!”

In this the two imposter boy scouts saw an opportunity to have it the Devil would be the resurrection for the ones whom the camp leaders chose to humiliate. In time, they said to each other, they would be able to have the good be evil, and then the two of them would perhaps even seem good enough for the ones of the actual church to be glad to befriend them. ...

The Solution

Jasmine smiled smugly while announcing that that she had been in a porn movie. Her four friends, Anita, Sharlene, Christine and Cecilia, looked at her with mixed feelings of amazement, disbelief and apprehension. “I can't swear they're not looking at it!” she said and continued with a ginger softness. “I feel, that they are pigs in that they don't see that I don't want to be understood as the type of girl who'd actually do this if it hadn't been for that creepy Peter.” She looked at them.

Three of them seemed to think whoever looked at her flick was a creep, almost as much as Peter. But Sharlene didn't seem to to apprehend that it would be the men, not Jasmine herself, who would suggest she be interpreted as the excitement to be had. She did however comprehend that Peter was to be seen as the scoundrel behind it all.

Cecilia looked thoughtful for a while, then she proclaimed: “I too have been into porn! But I was with another dodger than that louse Peter, to say the least, that is!”

“What do you mean?”Anita and Jasmine both asked.

“Oh, it was four years ago, when I was a junior in college, that four guys took advantage of me. It seemed to me at the time that they were into friendship and geniality, but they were all about sex, as it seems to me now, afterwards. One of them was awfully skilled about – How should I say this? – Ehm, he pretended thoroughly that he and the other three were all about good things, when they were into reprehensible stuff. He also insinuated about guys who probably weren't into such stuff, that it would be naive to trust them!”

It was silent for a few seconds.

“How come,” Jasmine asked, “did they find the extravagance (which they themselves had manipulated you into) to be authentic or safe enough to let themselves be stupefied by? Because that's what you mean, right?”

She sighed. “I guess they felt that seeing it would nurture their might or something.”

“Oh,” Jasmine uttered. “And the guys who looked at it later, they too then or what?”

“They seem to be into to me as something to believe in as if I had been promising them to be extravagant for their sake! Some even try to contact me, and expect me to assume there is no fallback to their pursuit of me!”

Christine looked at her. “Cecilia,” she said, “I don't have it men are into that just because they've been watching you – or other, voluntary or not, porn stars – that they must be horny enough to always ask for it. But I assume that it can be awkward to deal with them, since they assume your open for it.”

Cecilia looked back at her and said: “I assume they are all assholes for the sake of pretending it's masculine to be into sex as an indulgence for me to have for their sake!”

“Well, then,” Jasmine answered, “Perhaps I can take that stands too. ... That would help me, I guess, to find myself responsible enough not to be a token of their pretensions and at the same time fanciable enough to be aspired for as the type of woman who is really into what many of their kind ask for.”

“But,” Sharlene inquired, “how about that perhaps they can't then find it in you to be sensible enough to care about points of view that aren't exactly theirs, but which have been imposed upon them by media or so?”

“I don't find it in them to actually care. Instead I find it in them to be foolish enough not to be dealt with as actual fellow human beings.”

“Uh, ah! I see!” Jasmine responded. “Is it worth it never to give them a moment of appreciation, whether or no they ask for it, then?”

Cecilia giggled. “I know it's not true that they all are assholes! But I find it in them that they can be treated as such. So it is, whether or not they are bad enough to have to be taken that way, I still can see to it that they seem to be getting what they deserve, if they are simple enough to believe they can actually try to get me to do those things for them!”

Can one ever Know who is Behind what?

Marmsbrook retreat for psychological rehabilitation was situated in a fairly large forest, with only a private road that led there. There was a high fence around its yard, with a gate in it, which virtually always locked. There was also a garage (that was continuous with the fence) on one side, for staff members – and occasionally one or two of the patients – to park their cars. It could be entered by foot from the yard – by those who had keys. On the other side, though outside the fence, there was a small pond fairly nearby. In it some of the patients occasionally were allowed to go swimming or fishing, usually with at least one escorting staff member.

The rehabilitation was specialized on patients that apparently had become dangerous because of abuse. With this in mind the staff were discussing who was how much of a hidden abuser in their different patients. An old nurse, named Eva, said that for at least some – and perhaps many – of them such hidden abuse evidently came first and foremost from their mothers. She talked especially about two siblings (a brother and a sister), both of whom she had known for more than five years. “I know that both of them are so obnoxious that one would believe there's a father behind it. But, firstly, they have different fathers, but their behaviors are alike. Secondly neither of the fathers had very much to do with that child of his.”

The manager, a fairly chubby old man, hardly seemed agree. “But in that case,” he responded, “ she, the mother, would have to have been abusive in the sense that she didn't care about them – but she evidently has cared. Wouldn't it be more likely that they both felt drawn others, who mislead them? Because, there's no sign, in either one of them, of caring to acknowledge it when someone else has a stressful situation. It is they who don't care in that sense, who usually have been abused by either a father or some other male authority. Are you implying that these two are telling examples of the opposite?”

Eva looked thoughtful. “Yeah! I need to see them as telling examples of that it really must have been their mom. Because neither of them has really had much of any male authority about them. Didn't you know that?”

He cleared his throat. “In a sense,” he said after a while, “the abuse can be partly their mothers. In an other, the main abusers must have been more capable than she is of domination and callous brutality.”

“I have,” Eva objected, “investigated those possibilities, and it seems that neither of them can have been abused so much by anyone that it can compete with their mother's influence.”

Another nurse, Carla, said: “The sister seems to be into that her abuse was about being manipulated! She has had it there was no escaping mom's tricky make-believe about her that she is abusive herself. Thereby she cannot escape the notion of there being no moral to associate to.”

Both the manager and Eva looked thoughtful. For a while there was a silence, then a male nurse, Tony, broke in: “So has the other one – at least perhaps, or in a sense. Because he has confessed to me that there was no means by which he could easily feel that softness actually was trustworthy!”

Eva inhaled audibly. “Exactly!” she asserted. “That's exactly the impression I have. I mean of the both of them! Exactly that!”

“Hm, well, in that case,” the manager muttered, “I'll have to try to reconsider and re-adapt our treatment program a bit. But, as far as I can tell, I cannot, as of yet, assume that there is no actual implications of that the responsibilities of the involved have to be conformed to in any other sense than that I can have it there's no complex issues about this type of situation.” With that he closed the meeting.

Why Don't They Seem Guilty of Pretension?

On a park bench, Nina and Harold discussed an issue they both felt was disturbing. It was about manipulators who seemed to view themselves as attractive even though they weren't what – anyone, probably – wanted.

“As if,” he said, “they don't have to deal with that they are manipulators.”

“yeah, it's weird.” She looked downwards for a second before adding: “Is it really true, that no one would believe their story about them?”

“Hardly,” he answered.

“So how can they get away with it?”

“If you mean Peter, then it's because when he intimidates, they fall for the illusion of his power being an absolute notion of threat against their integrity. Probably they feel they can't oppose him without him being able to seem real about himself, in a sense that doesn't make him feel small. ... Of course some feel threatened simply because he's a macho guy. But that can hardly be the most important aspect of it!”

She looked thoughtful. “That dude! Well he isn't really a nuisance until one finds out that what he really wants is to seem worthy of everyone's sexual interests!”

“No! I know! I could have been wrong about him, for a while, also.”

“Hm. When such people pretend to be worthy of one's attention, they mask sometimes themselves behind that one can make a mistake, occasionally, about one or two others, who don't really want to fake that stuff – but about whom one might imagine it. When he for example pretended I was a someone who didn't know my own interests if I didn't respond they way he wanted, then he also suggested that his kid brother who actually would be there and fake it even worse! But that kid brother of his, ah, he isn't really that much of a fake. He's sort of about it, wants it, but he isn't into enforcing himself upon someone, I think. At least not very easily, that is.”

“Hm, no, I agree. He cares about humility as a virtue, I guess.”

“Who wouldn't with such a big bro?” She giggled.

He looked thoughtful. “How about those two whom you were intimidated by for being callow, Steve and Jenny? They both are siblings of Dan. Ehm, you know, Dan, that tough guy who seems fond of pretending his religion is a call for saying he's innocent even when he can't be. i think they both are younger than he is.”

“That's different! They feel they are secure, probably, with him about and protesting about whatever goes against them as well as himself.”

“I guess being that way is something that makes him feel that he has a right to pretend everyone else is mediocre, and thereby that he should get his dick into anyone who perhaps is into anything of that kind.”

“That's why I feel that these types of fellows are all about trying to be into sex although they shouldn't have it!”

“Exactly that is what either of them could have as the target of their insinuations about themselves as those fellow victims of being unjustly accused!”

She sat and stared for a while. “You know, I would like to cry about this, but I can't because those guys have had it my tears are about me being especially sensitive about not being able to admit that I want them.”

“Have both of them done that?”

“Yeah!”

“Exactly those two, then?”

“One more guy has, and then one woman has done it too, actually.”

He thought for himself, for a while. Then he stood up and proclaimed: “I don't feel any woman is about that trick. If you have it that woman – who is it by the way? – had it in her, then you probably can see it in the way she manipulates for seeming real about love. ...”

“It's old Beatrice. ... She does pretend it!”

“Oh ... her. Yeah, OK!”

“You see! There is one.”

“Hm. Yeah, OK, that's one! ... Strange for me that I didn't realize it! She has actually almost done it to me as well. But, you know what? She simply pretends there's no point in seeming uninterested in her. It's not she, but guys who can seem like they're worthy of it without seeming to pretend they're appreciating themselves for no reason!”