The power of „three“

They say that three is the number...

Christianity has three…
God gives you three chances in the mediterranean.
If I am right, there is a joke about Moses having three tablets of commandments, but he broke the third, so there were only two tablets left, with the ten commandments…
In competitions, it’s the first three to get a medal…
One scotch, one bourbon and one beer…
That’s a three…

We'll go backwards.

...

Holy third:

Imagine.

You are out from a workplace farewell party on a late August evening, and the booze was free…

You are walking down to the center, the sky is still somewhat light, there is the lovely pink in the sky, and a few clouds, and the autumn smell is flowing to your body…

You are passing by a big open air parking place, watching the sky, the railway station, and the cars parked there…

Then you see two antennas on a car… Two antennas? They are too thick for two antennas… And they have this slight movement… A nice rhythm… Then you notice the shoes.

Women’s shoes on the antennas…

What the bloody hell is that?

You get curious.

...

Holy second:

Imagine.

You are out with this girl.

No matter if she is your girlfriend, or just a pick up out of a bar you went to after school…

A few beers and a nice walk…

Imagine ending up in the middle of the car park…

The girl sits onto the hood of a car, pulls her skirt up.

You, take down her panties, your sweater still on… Your backpack still on your back, you lower your pants, lower your boxers,

A nice sky, out in the open, you are turned on, you are on heat… And she is wet…

Lift her legs up to the sky, and enter…

Dup dup dup… You feel like the energizer bunny.. Dup dup dup…

Then you see this man approaching.. Must be going to his car… Dup dup dup…

The man comes closer, closer .. dup dup… fucking close…

He stands by your side, you still fucking.. Looks at you looks at the girl…

Dup dup… What the fuck is he… dup dup.. whatever.. dup dup…

And the bastard, takes out his hand, slowly moves it towards the girl, caresses her head, and goes “Are you OK?”

...

Holy first:


And…


Now…..


Imagine…..


You …..


Are…..


The….


Girl…..

Women who live in their own world.

Met this girl with a friend of mine two years ago. We were about to leave the place, when he chatted her up. After three minutes of chat which she definitely enjoyed, ego boost wise, and during which I was trying to figure out what was wrong with her other than being an attention ho’, I noticed the ring.

“So you are married.”
“No, I am engaged.”
“When will you marry then?”
“blab la bla…”

I pulled my guy away, as he tends to get stuck with those kind of women and told the girl good nite. She will anyway find a guy who will be drooling over her in the rest of the nite.


A few months later, in Helsinki, we meet this girl again. The same guy goes up to her to have a half hour chat, while I just let out a brief hello, to return to the others.


Maybe, just maybe, there was another hi, sometime ago, can’t recall….


Two months ago, she happens to be in the same club as we. And, the same guy starts a chat with her again. I am enjoying myself with the rest of the pack, a few meters away. Something pops up, and I have to say a few words to the guy. Rude and preoccupied as I am, I do not acknowledge her, so say my three words to my guy, and go on with my business…

Later I learn about this conversation:

“Why is your friend angry at me?”
“He is not.. Why you say so?”
“It makes sense if he is angry. I badly shot him down; three times”

Why do I get a feeling that there is a parallel universe in some women’s head?

What are the odds?

It is road trip time.. Changed the town to get a friend out of his worries.

The Friday was heavy drinking, heavy smoking.

The Saturday, a hangover, with a lost voice…

Its raining so we enter this place.. Nevertheless, one of the favorite spots of the town…

Just after I ordered my drink…., the head bartender happens to pass by, and he has two letters on his nametag.

JJ…

“Hey, what does JJ stand for?”

“Jens Jorge”

“Does not sound Finnish”

“Not quite” – This I understood as Norway..

“Norwegian?”

“No, how come?”

“You just said Norway..”

“I said not quite..”

“Ah..”

“That’s German”

“A-ha, bist auch Deutscher…” - “A- ha, you also German…”

“Du auch? – “You too?”

“Ja…”

“Haha…”

“Aber, du bist nicht ganz Deutsch.. Was ist deine andere hälfte?“ – „But you are not fully German. What’s the other half?” I ask…

“Turke” – “Turkish” – My buddies at the bar let out a loud laugh…

“Yapma ya” I say… - “Don’t you say” I continue in Turkish…


What are the odds?? In another town… In Finland…

Indeed open mindedness...

Finns do have a broad view of the term „black man“

Lastly, a white Caucasian European with black hair was called “Vitun neekeri”….

The master... The bastard...

It was a night of limoncello and raki..

Then we moved to Onnela…

And there she was.

Somewhere between thirty to forty…

And extreme interest into me…

And there I was talking to my friends.

She comes in from the side, smiles at me, and before I can turn to see who is standing besides me, she looses the balance, and falls back…

There I was, putting my hand forward to lift her up.

Lifted her up, and with a commanding voice, and a serious face, showed her a bar stool, pointed at it,, and said “Istu.” – “sit”

She looked at me like a puppy looks at the master, and went to the stool looking at me with her jaw open.

I continue chatting with my friends, apparently something she did not expect.

Half a minute later she is up by my side, smiling and blabbering something, while I was saying in finnsih “me talk friends with”, and the people around me starting to laugh loudly, she lost her balance…

And there I was again, putting my hand forward, lifting her up..

Showing her another bar stool, and this time, serious hard voice, “Instu … nyt” - “sit… now”

Obeyed again, with that look on her face. Sat down, made a move telling me to come there..

I did not, continued chatting with people, who by this time were red in the face…

Ten seconds later she gets up, and this time finds herself a railing to hold on so she would not fall…

I go over to the bar, as I do not want to shout to women,

“Hey look, “ I told the barmaid.. “there is this one woman there troubling me, pissed drunk, unable to stand.. What do I need to do to get her out the place?” – If guys act like it, they get kicked out, but I suppose a woman is seen as free pussy, so she is seen as community service and has the right to stay…

“Is it the woman with the funny hair” she says.. What else can I say?
Go back to the buddies, and tell her once more

“Istu!!”

She sits… only three breaths long… Gets up, gets to the dance floor…

Then I get a slap on my shoulder, and an angry shout,

“BASTARD”

It never felt so good to hear the words “Bastard….”

Later she hooked a handsome man in his late twenties… Some men are born desperate.

Shouldn’t principles be standard?

So, Finland announced the number of traffic violations the foreign diplomatic agencies had received, but had not paid. And due to the diplomatic immunity, these fines cannot be forced to payment. So, I assume, a solution was found, in publicly announcing these numbers, causing humiliation and shame in the diplomatic circles, resulting in payment.

In those, Turkey ranked fifth, with 30 unpaid fines.

And this made it to the public papers.

The downside is: the diplomatic institution of the same country, imposing honesty and rule abidance to its visitors, Finland, has received 546 fines in Turkey, of which 45% are parking violations, and only 8% have been paid.

The unpaid number is higher than 500… You do the math.

For me, this is not a big thing, but it also shows that principles are bendable.

Dangerous liasions...

Finished a coffee and two cigarettes before I could even start this story... Had no clue how to start or what to write… Still have not, but I guess sometimes you gotta step into the unknown to see light at the end of the darkness.

The story evolves around the cute boy, lets name him Mr. Blue. Then we have the intermediate boy, the joker, Mr. brown. And the relationship abuser, Mr. Yello. He is the only Finnish boy in this story. We have me, and the cutie.

For some background:

Mr. Blue shagged the cutie on the same afternoon of the night in question.

Mr. Brown does not know who Mr. Blue shagged, though he knows the existence of a friend with benefits. A note to keep in mind is that, a few months back, he was kind of downed when he learned that a nice butt standing at the bar facing him, that he had been talking about violently passionately, was the butt of a girl I saw intimately a few times, about two years before that incident.

Mr. Yello, is in a relationship, and abuses the fact by telling women that he has a girlfriend, activating the women’s “Oh he is taken. He must be a valuable man!! I need to fuck him!!” switch. Then he walks the women to their homes, with the women having the intention of screwing him, and then he tells them goodnite at their doorsteps, goes home to shag his girlfriend.

This by the way, is a nice way to show the “inexistence” of dignity for the nightlife locals, that we foreigners, on the other hand, are required to have… “You are disgusting if you are talking to me and you have a girlfriend…” Etc etc….And also explains the reason why some men use fake marriage rings in a hunting night. Women with high dignity… Yup yup…

Third person is me.. The usual me.

The fourth person,, we name her Cutie, as according to the other three men, she is a nice girl, witty, gorgeous, and fun. I can say she is good looking, but as I do not know her, that is all I can say.


------------------

The evening:

Mr. Yello has chatted up the Cutie with the usual tactics. Mr Brown is showing me these two and telling me to look at the gorgeous girl who Mr. Yello is talking to. And how much he adores her ass…

I do not say a thing…

Mr. Yello takes Cutie to a seat to isolate her. And they continue their chat.

Sometime later, the Cutie sees Mr. Blue who is sitting beside me, comes to him, and sits on his lap. Mr. Brown freaks out, “Fuck. Is that Cutie?” I laugh… Remembering my own similar story…

Mr. Yello angry faced, goes to Mr. Blue and tells to his ear, “Don’t destroy my chances”… As if these “chances” are of any use for the girl…

Then, Mr. Yello turns to me and says, “I think she is a player..”

“So?”

“I think she is using Mr. Blue…”

“So?”

“That is bad… She is bad…” oh. Shut the fuck up…

“Mr. Yello, look at them, how cute they are, and how much fun they have…” I say…

Mr. Yello gets pissed and leaves… His body in full tension, fists clenched.

Mr. Blue has been observing and has this smile on his face, knowing that he defeated at least one boy…

The Cutie and Mr. Blue leave the bar, while Mr. Yello goes back to his long term girlfriend, with collar of defeat on his neck….

A man’s downfall.

On Friday, in a club, chatting with my friends, an old man, fifty something, homely dressed, beige corduroy pants, checkered shirt, and a red pullover. Some hair loss and sadly, drunk.

With my broken Finnish, we had a conversation like this:

“How’s your evening?”
“Good, thank you. And yours.”

“……” – did not understand this part.
“Enjoy the evening.”

“My wife is a beautiful woman”
“Your wife must be the best woman on earth”
“No. She likes young guys”
“….”
“She is not here?”
“No. She likes man of twenty five, big and young.”
“Sorry to hear that”
“She likes men like you”
“….”

I had to leave.