IG: franckgerardart
SUMMER 2023. I want to kiss her. But I haven’t showered in a week, except for using seawater. I’m sweating from dragging the huge suitcase used on the sailboat under the sun. I had onions for lunch. Basically, I’m in the worst condition to kiss her.
I’ve just entered the hotel room. She’s there, buzzing around the private pool of my room, shaking that seductive butt left and right like a mischievous little girl, happy for daddy’s return. I see her in person for the first time, after a few days of texting, lots of audio messages, and some video calls. She lives in a cold European capital but decided to take a flight and join me in Corfu for 4 days together.
She trots over to me, I kiss her on the cheek and… throw her into the pool. Then I help her up and… back into the pool again. And so on, until we both jump in together. I don’t know why I did it, but with her, I can’t help being physical. You know, touching people is my way of understanding them. But with her, my need for contact is at its peak. While we’re in the water, I put my hands on her hips, caress her legs. “May I?” I ask, as my hands glide over her heavenly, firm yet soft butt. She – aware of her worth – allows it… but I had already done it: never ask questions you don’t already know the answer to.
She’s excited, you can tell. And so am I. I don’t understand why I like her so much. There’s a hint of embarrassment, counterbalanced by the excitement of touching her. Four endless minutes have passed, I can’t not kiss her, who cares about the breath. The first kiss is a distracted lip touch, between one conversation and another. And then, shortly after, more tender kisses until the arrival of the tongue: capricious, childish, a cheerful and bouncy little serpent.
We talk. Damn, we talk a lot. At the speed of light. Opening 4 conversations simultaneously. We devour each other’s information with the same eagerness as those Americans who compete to see who can eat the most hamburgers in 5 minutes. We could spend these 4 days in this pool, just talking, trying to discover everything about each other. But she’s shivering: we’re in the shade, the water is cold. I invite her to get out, grab a towel for her, and we lie on the lounger. I keep caressing her, the contact with her calms me, soothes me, hardens me like cold water on steel to be tempered.
Let me describe her to you, recalling a note I took 3 days later, watching her secretly while we waited for yet another hotel room to be prepared in Corfu.
She’s petite, small but muscular, she calls herself my “portable English translator.” She’s blonde but dyes her hair black, which I find much more fitting for her personality. Her dark hair contrasts with the deep blue of her eyes. God, those eyes!
In her, all the elements coexist, both physically and character-wise. Her gaze is as deep as an ocean (water), clear as the sky. She conveys a great sense of air and freedom, like the endless expanses of a continent to explore. And damn, do I want to explore it! Like wild vines at the edge of an alpine lake, green veins radiate in her celestial iris, like roots growing (earth). Character-wise, she’s like that too: as free as the air, she changes cities as often as my slob of a brother changes socks (every two years). She’s as deep as the ocean, she’s 29 but – listening to her stories – she seems to have lived 92. And in her constant movement with the intensity of a tornado, she manages to stay rooted to her family, her friends. She takes care of everyone, pays for everyone: trips, gifts, help. A little Berlusconi of ours doomed to remain penniless by a very generous heart. Deep down, she secretly hopes that – sooner or later – someone will pay for her, just to express love in the language she knows.
And the fire? There’s no trace of it in her gaze, too kind, but it’s everywhere on her skin. This little mischievous creature is full of tattoos. Each one has a story, sometimes even a love story with the tattoo artist – man or woman – who made them. Hmm, I should learn to tattoo, forget the blog! The second thing that strikes me most about Blue Tornado is the intensity with which she lives. The first is her kindness.
Blue Tornado is in constant motion, arches that butt and shakes it left and right, contorts while talking. And she contorts even more when I touch her where manners require, with awkward and unnatural movements that often make me fear I’ve got the touch, the intensity, or the moment wrong… “you’re not wrong, I enjoy it like this,” she reassures me.
She’s aware of being attractive but without that inflated doll attitude of many Instagram girls. She’s more of a spoiled and seductive child who with false innocence provokes and hits those around her.
Blue Tornado smells of kindness, sweetness, and love. She’s super cuddly like me. She’s the cure for my ailment of having loved too much, of having emptied myself like a leaky bottle.
Okay, sorry, I got lost. Let’s go back to our first meeting, poolside. She lies down next to me. I look at her. I confess: “I don’t know why I like you so much! I don’t get it. I just know it will end badly. Very, very badly for me!” She laughs, happy, kisses me, and says she’s into me too. In short, even though we’re 71 years old together, we’re two teenagers.
I had thought of using not a nickname but her real name, for the first time in the history of this blog. No sweetboobs, no honey eyes, just the name her father gave her. I don’t want her to be just the protagonist of a blog story. She’s not an archetype, an uplifting story to embellish or joke about. She’s a person I have intimately connected with, at a time when I needed it most. A person who cared for me and whom I cared for. A person who might disappear, leaving just a memory. But let the memory carry her real name, for heaven’s sake!
But, nothing, she prefers a nickname. And a nickname it is.
I can’t stand this fact that everything ends. Like with my ex, two and a half super intense years. Swept away, by a gust of wind. While we were breaking up, I asked her “what will we be tomorrow?” And she replied: “everything and nothing. We will be everything and nothing.”
You give your life for something. And the next day it’s gone. What’s the point of loving, then? Or maybe that’s why it makes sense to love, to leave a sweet aftertaste of figs and honey to the cold and relentless devouring of death. Death, I know you’ll win in the end, but until then I’ll fight you with the intensity of my experiences.
And how to exorcise death if not with a blowjob? We’re on the veranda, poolside, clearly visible to anyone on their room’s balcony. I undress her. She’s embarrassed (not an exhibitionist). I position her to be more visible, enjoying her embarrassment, I start touching her, she reciprocates, takes my dick and sucks.
She’s an excellent sucker, I like how she uses her mouth and hands, even more how she moves and positions her body while engaging in the noble art. I like peeking at her little butt, which I’m falling in love with. I’ve been pent up for a week of total abstinence from sailing. Later, on the bed, I’ll fill her as she deserves, fully, feeling completely at home, in a beautiful moment of connection. She has a very cute pussy, which opens like a rose, a pleasure to explore.
In bed she’s good, I don’t feel at my best. Outside of the moment when I fill her, I’m a shadow of myself. I’m fresh from a breakup, I need cuddles more than sex. Normally I crave sex as the peak moment of knowing/dating someone, totally selfish. This time I did it more for her, to tell her I liked her. It’s a shame, because she’s great and I hope soon I can lose myself in her, honoring her submissive nature.
Shower, aperitif in a bathrobe, and off to town, to the end-of-cruise dinner with my sailing companions. We’re beautiful, radiant, the understanding is maximum. I introduce her to the two girls from the next boat and they can’t help but ask “but are you friends?” We look at each other, I ask her “are we friends?” We laugh, embarrassed, like two little kids. The other friend, cold, with a Cruella De Vil expression, declares “well, it’s obvious you’re more like two friends.” And so be it.
The next day we leave Corfu and head to Albania. We manage to miss the hydrofoil, board another one illegally, risk losing the car reservation due to a booking error. In short, there are no shortages of unforeseen events. But she’s supportive, helps, calls, translates, solves. I’m glad to be with her and not with the many ditzy and whiny princesses who want everything perfect.
We head to the Blue Eye (in Albanian “Syri i Kalter”), a natural spring with crystal-clear waters – thanks also to the pristine white limestone rocks – bubbling from the depths over 50 meters deep, in a forest of oaks and sycamores. Which sounds awesome but instead the view is covered by a horde of Italians attracted by the unfulfilled promise of low prices.
We continue to Gjirokastër, a charming UNESCO heritage town, with an important antediluvian castle. I take a thousand photos of her. Day by day I see her more and more smiling, with a more open and happy look. This trip to Albania is doing her good.
Here she confesses the secret to managing her and getting her back if she gets angry: feed her. Every two hours her mouth must be full and never, I say “never!”, allow her to be hungry: she would turn into an angry Gremlin.
This information will be very useful on the last day, as you’ll see.
We finish the tour and return to Saranda, our base.
We’re tired, finally in the hotel, it’s 8:00 PM, come on, this time we’ll go to bed early!
But no, we talk, talk, until 2 in the morning. She tells me about how she lives, how she takes care of the people she cares about, how she tries to protect and defend everyone, how she always demands more from herself.
I sense a pattern I know well, being partly mine too. It’s something I’ve worked on, of which I know well the consequences: inability to relax, need to push, to always give more, risk of being used, etc.
I use Filippo’s Scenario Theory™, a dear friend of mine who developed an innovative framework that could cure part of humanity’s ills, but he prefers to be a programmer and be mistreated by Polish colleagues… so only three of us know this method.
Oversimplifying, to be fully functional you need to be fluid like water, adapting yourself to every scenario. If just thinking about a situation gets you down, meaning it generates a strong emotional reaction, this limits your ability to operate functionally. For example, I was stuck in a finished marriage for many years, unable to leave my wife, because I couldn’t conceive of hurting someone I cared about. Which surely generated more pain and problems. The mere idea made me feel bad, generating a strong emotion. I wasn’t free to choose that path.
Subsequently, in the early months of my relationship with Honey Eyes, I wasn’t able to really treat her badly when she did her nonsense. The absence of sanctioning behaviors didn’t give my girlfriend the right stimulus to evolve and created problems for the couple.
Unlocking a scenario means emptying it of emotions, making it acceptable. In this case, through fairly extreme and macabre visualizations, I unlocked this scenario, eliminating any negative emotion. From that moment I had no problem kicking Honey Eyes out of the house every time she did big nonsense.
Going back to Blue Tornado, I practice a scenario reintegration on her. That is, very simply, I show her all the positive aspects of the situation she avoids (e.g., simple and trivial: “if you keep defending your brother, he will never become a man. Not helping him means putting him in a position to develop the ability to defend himself and face life better than having you protect him”). As I speak, her face changes, her expression transforms. A block is nothing more than a series of energies and emotions that, instead of flowing freely, are knotted to prevent that situation from occurring. Unblocking the block means accepting that scenario and thus letting all that blocked energy flow. The result is an immediate and deep relaxation.
“It’s incredible, I’ve never felt so free as now.” “You’re taking care of me like no one ever has, I almost feel guilty for being here.” “Tonight I’ll sleep better than I ever have in my life.” And indeed she fell asleep like a rock. The next day waking her up was problematic. I tried kissing her, touching her, shaking her, tickling her, throwing things at her… nothing. Then I remembered her greatest weakness: food.
I approach her ear, and say:
“frr frr I’m the bacon… sizzling… fragrant… I’m delicious… surely you can’t wait to eat me…“
I notice some movements in her body, but her eyes are still closed. I continue:
“hey! there’s a German eating me! he’s finishing me! If you don’t wake up right now you won’t find me anymore…” not even time to finish the sentence that Blue Tornado is up, washed, dressed, and ironed, pulling me to go down for breakfast.
We go to Ksamil, to a very nice beach. I spot some “VIP” sunbeds in the distance and of course, I take them. I find these round beds, with a mattress, placed on a platform over the sea, complete with a net suspended over the sea, catamaran style.
I tried to capture the place, but Blue Tornado inserts herself into every photo. The typical boyfriend photo session kicks in, with me hanging in the most improbable angles to ensure her great photos. I point out that this is a bonus service, the second after the scenarios, not included in our relationship. I clearly tell her that I should charge, I can propose an arrangement or she must buy the “boyfriend” package. She slyly laughs and pretends not to understand. Nothing, I always tell Filippo: “what can I do if they only want me as a sex toy?”
The day goes by quickly, we return to the hotel, she’s super cute, irons my shirt, I’d say in girlfriend mode.
We go out to eat. Super connection. She’ll deny it to the death, but I know: she’s smitten with me. Maybe it’ll last a moment, maybe tomorrow I’ll be archived, but right now she’s really super into me.
And indeed… the next day the troubles begin.
She’s unwell due to a return of cystitis. She’s nervous. I see something’s wrong. I ask. She denies it. I’m not stupid. I ask again. She denies again. I use the ex weapon, which always works:
Me: “You know, the thing I hated most about HoneyEyes™, which eventually led to our breakup, is that she never told me when something bothered her.”
Her: “No, you didn’t do anything that bothered me.”
Me: “Okay, so it’s something I said.”
Her: “Yes.”
Bingo. I’m pretty good at this game by now, unfortunately.
We talk. We argue, I try to calm her down. It doesn’t work. She keeps to herself, ignoring me. Honestly, I’m tired of this. I don’t know if I want a new girlfriend.
Then I remember: food!
I call the waiter. I order half the menu, texting the hotel via WhatsApp. They reply that I’m contacting the wrong hotel. I point out that this is an emergency, a matter of life and death for my relationship. We eat on the beach loungers.
With claws, she grabs the food, eating frantically. As she eats, the claws retract, the scales turn back into her usual smooth skin, and she becomes cute and cuddly again.
We get a little closer, then she leaves.
It’s no coincidence I decided to call her Blue Tornado, with her everything happens so fast. In just three days, we went through all the stages of an entire relationship: the first day was all about the frenzy of getting to know each other; the second about supporting and helping each other like a mature couple; the third was about fighting and drifting apart. Tomorrow I expect to receive a letter from the divorce lawyer! 🙂
Jokes aside, I think the problem is that she got scared. She didn’t expect this connection, this level of intimacy and emotion. It was supposed to be something light, a vacation in a nice place with a fun guy. The only risk on the horizon was that I might be a serial killer (“I believe it, on dating sites you call yourself The Magnificent!”). And instead… well, I won’t write it because she’ll kill me (and deny everything).
What was she to me?
A safe harbor. A person who took care of me. A good person, from whom I didn’t have to defend myself. A girl who, with her smile, healed some of my wounds. A spark of hope that another happy life is possible. A moment of warmth. A kind gaze to explore, like a prairie and – maybe – live in.
She’s traveling, I’m in my hotel room. She writes to me:
“I’m still in disbelief.
Blue Tornado
I’m very much in disbelief about how the whole situation went.
I still believe that meeting someone is never by chance. It was very nice, I wish I had a time machine to go back…
and also a future machine to see what will happen.”
We kept writing/talking for a few weeks, with the idea of meeting again soon, then suddenly… she stopped responding. Maybe she sensed that HoneyEyes was back and beat me to it just before I could tell her.
PS
This post was written in the summer of 2023, during a “break” with HoneyEyes. Then she came back, we tried again and no more posts… until today.
