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Category: Storytelling NL

Storytelling: Revenge (3/4)

WOW! Superlang geleden! Ik kom hier even deel DRIE van mijn revenge-story neerpennen! Mocht je deel één niet hebben gelezen, klik dan hier. Mocht je ook deel twee niet hebben geleden, klik dan hier. #StoryTimeAlert

Maar nu komt het wraakplan en dit blijft een staatsgeheim (#NotReally), want ergens schaam ik mij dat we dit hebben gedaan. Er is zo iets als de privacywet, maar in zulke situaties kent wraak geen justitie of wet. #NoodBreektWet? 

Na avondenlang chatten met M. hadden we beiden door dat Dickhead een kikkererwt in plaats van een brein heeft. Daardoor was hij ook makkelijk te manipuleren, en wat maakt het nog makkelijker om iemand in de val te lokken die al in eerste instantie dom is? Wel, een paar tetten. #TettenWerkenAltijd

Het eerste idee kwam van M., want hij was niet alleen actief op Facebook maar ook op VK, de Russische variant. Aangezien daar miljoenen Sovjet chicks stonden met verleidelijke foto’s die ook verleidelijk waren om ze te (mis/ge)bruiken…

Het duurde niet lang voor M. een hele fotoalbum van een bepaalde Oekraïense chick te pakken had. Hij opende een Facebookaccount, verzon een Russiche naam, postte al die foto’s op dat profiel, voegde een hele rij aan mannen toe – die haar met plezier accepteerden –  en liet dat profiel wat likes en comments krijgen. Ik weet niet meer hoe we haar hebben genoemd, maar laten we haar Mascha noemen. “Mascha” woonde zogenaamd in Den Haag, studeerde aan de universiteit, werkte in een beach club in Scheveningen en was niet op haar mondje gevallen. Het type dat Dickhead verrukkelijk vond. #OnceADickheadAlwaysADickhead

De tijd was aangebroken om hem eindelijk toe te voegen aan Mascha’s Facebookvrienden. Mascha (a.k.a M. en mezelf, afwisselend) hadden niet veel moeite om Dicky aan de praat te krijgen want hij startte spontaan de conversatie. Al snel kwam het ter sprake dat hij wou afspreken, want jaah, veel had hij niet te vertellen, onze goede oude Dicky. Mascha stelde voor dat hij naar haar toe moest komen op een zaterdagavond, na haar shift in de beach club in Scheveningen. Zo konden ze de hele avond “samen” zijn. Natuurlijk vroeg Dickhead naar welke beach club, en dan hebben we er ééntje snel gegoogeld, het adres doorgegeven, en klaar was Kees. We kozen bewust voor een zaterdagavond, zodat hij daar zou wachten tot Mascha er aan kwam, maar Mascha zou natuurlijk niet komen. Dicky zou er ook niet meteen aan denken dat het laat is, er geen treinen meer naar Antwerpen zijn en hij dan zou beseffen dat hij werd opgelicht.

Dicky was een man van zijn woord. Zo gezegd, zo gedaan. Dicky stond om 22u30 aan de beach club in Scheveningen. Hij bestelde een cocktailtje, stuurde een PM’mpje van “Hey, I’m here at the beach club, where are you?” Uiteraard waren wij niet van plan te antwoorden. We lieten hem sudderen. Na een uur  wachten was hij het beu en stuurde hij opnieuw: “Hey, waar ben je nou? Ik vroeg aan je baas en collega waar je bent en ze wisten het niet! Antwoord a.u.b.!!!”. Het grappigste is dat over heel de avond, er niemand is die zei: “Hier werkt helemaal geen Mascha, waar heb je het nou over?” Dus Dicky had helemaal niet door dat hij werd opgelicht. de volgende dag besloten M. en ik, toch te antwoorden op de hopeloze berichten van Mr. Dickhead.

Dicky was heel erg boos, want jaah, hoe zou je zelf zijn als iemand zijn kat stuurt op een date, niet antwoordt op jouw berichtjes op Facebook, en je ‘s nachts voor lul achterlaat over de grens in Nederland? Ik zou voor minder. We besloten alles te wagen om hem te kalmeren, want jaah, hij is toch dom genoeg om naar een fake date te komen zonder het achteraf te beseffen, we kunnen hem toch nog eens in de maling nemen, of niet?

Mascha: “Oh, het spijt me zo, zo, zo! Ik had thuis een familiaal probleem, ik kon daarom niet naar m’n werk komen en had ook geen 3G meer om Facebookmeldingen te ontvangen! Please, vergeef het mij! :'(“. Je raadt het nooit? Bij dicky was het snel “zand erover” want jaah, Dickhead dacht maar aan één ding! En dat bracht ons op een nieuw ideetje… #GroetenUitDenHaag


Zoals ik eerder liet weten op mijn blog, zal ik voortaan verder in het Engels. Enkel de storytelling blijft in het Nederlands. Wil je meer storytelling in het Nederlands? klik dan hier, of onder het balkje “Storytelling → Storytelling NL” in het menu. 

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Storytelling: Revenge (2/4)

WOW! Superlang geleden! Ik kom hier even deel twee van mijn revenge-story neerpennen! Mocht je deel één niet hebben gelezen, klik dan hier. #StoryTimeAlert

Waar waren wij gebleven? Ah ja! Ik vertelde hoe ik Dickhead heb leren kennen. Je weet wel, Dickhead heb ik even gedatet, en neem “even” niet met een korreltje zout, maar LETTERLIJK “even”! Ik ontdekte hoe hij de gehele vrouwen bevolking in Antwerpen en omstreken heeft kunnen foppen om ze gewoon in bed te krijgen. Ik leerde later “M” kennen die ook Dickhead kende en Dickhead moest hem geld, en we besloten gewoon lekker wraak te nemen want het was zomer, we hadden niets beters te doen, we vonden dat hij het verdiende en wij vonden dat ook gewoonweg #H-I-L-A-R-I-S-C-H!

Blijkbaar een hit op Aliexpress voor Carnaval/Purim, but don’t you worry Dickhead, you won’t need a costum EVER!

Elke avond chatte ik en M op Facebook en op een warme zomerse avond, was dat weer het geval. Ik weet oprecht niet meer hoe wij over Dickhead zijn begonnen, maar M zag hem blijkbaar liever dood dan levend. Hij vertelde ook dat Dickhead hem altijd ontweek wanneer hij hem op de Keyserlei zag wandelen (niet zo moeilijk aangezien M 2 meter groot is en praktisch in de fitnesszaal woont! Ik zou voor minder…). Ik lachte me dood bij de gedachte dat Dickhead ineens een ietsiepietsie kleine bek had in plaats van zijn alom befaamde grote mond. #Loser

Alle nare gebeurtenissen kwamen naar boven: wanneer hij mijn GSM nam om dick pics te sturen naar mijn vriendinnen op WhatsApp of BBM! (SAY WHAT? JA! Dat deed hij dus echt!)  Meneer dacht namelijk dat heel de wereld op de hoogte moest zijn van zijn dikke l*l (het was enkel dik, en stelde voor de rest niets voor), gelukkig dat er in die tijd bijna niemand WhatsApp en BBM had! #Oef. Hij werd ook RAZEND toen hij gedumpt wed door een Erasmus studente die toch in haar vaderland een vriend had. Maar zij dumpte hem om de reden dat ze zijn spelletje doorhad (You know, die zogenaamde dure juwelen maar die uiteindelijk brol bleken te zijn). #DoubleLoser

Maar nu komt het wraakplan en dit blijft een staatsgeheim (#NotReally), want ergens schaam ik mij dat we dit hebben gedaan. Er is zo iets als de privacywet, maar in zulke situaties kent wraak geen justitie of wet. #NoodBreektWet? 

Na avondenlang chatten met M hadden we beiden door dat Dickhead een kikkererwt in plaats van een brein had. Daardoor was hij ook makkelijk te manipuleren, en wat maakt het nog makkelijker om iemand in de val te lokken die al in eerste instantie dom is? Wel, een paar tetten. #TettenWerkenAltijd

Het eerste idee kwam van M, want hij was niet enkel actief op Facebook maar ook op VK, de Russische variant. Daar stonden miljoenen Sovjet chicks met verleidelijke foto’s die ook verleidelijk waren om ze te (mis/ge)bruiken…

(2/4)


Zoals ik eerder liet weten op mijn blog, zal ik voortaan verder in het Engels. Enkel de storytelling blijft in het Nederlands. Wil je meer storytelling in het Nederlands? klik dan hier, of onder het balkje “Storytelling → Storytelling NL” in het menu. 

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Storytelling: Revenge (1/3)

Ooit eens aan wraak gedacht? Tot over een paar jaar geleden, niet echt. Tot ik iemand leerde kennen, M, die dezelfde gevoelens had tegenover een persoon die ik absoluut niet meer kon uitstaan.

Ondertussen weet ik niet meer hoe die persoon, laten wij hem Dickhead noemen, ter sprake kwam, maar héél snel kwam ik te weten dat Dickhead met geld van M was gaan lopen. Dickhead moest mij geen geld, verre van, maar hij was een rasechte klootzak geweest. Niet zozeer tegenover mij, maar met de hele vrouwenbevolking. And you wanna know why?

Het begon allemaal in de lente van 2010. Ik kwam een kennis tegen in de straten van Antwerpen, en ging. Die kennis stond daar met iemand te praten, die persoon was Dickhead. Dickhead stelde zich supergay voor, want tot zover ik wist, was hij dat ook. Niet veel later had Dickhead al research gedaan en voegde mij toe op Facebook, gepaard met een zeer, zéér melige PM.

Ik bespaar je de exacte tekst. In zijn bericht stond er grofweg dat hij eigenlijk niet gay was en dat hij me wel zag zitten. #Mindblown. Hoeveel *ish kan een persoon wel verkopen? Enfin, ik geloofde er niet veel van, maar aangezien ik toen als negentienjarig meisje nog nooit verder was geweest dan flirts and kisses, dacht ik dat ik er ineens maar van zijn bullsh¨t kon profiteren.

Bla bla bla, hij vroeg me op “date”. Het woord “date” stoorde me, dus ik bedacht dat ik de bioscooptickets ging betalen zodat hij al ziet dat ik niet voor zijn crap val. Ik ging dan ook bewust in mijn meest onflatterende strand, jawel STRANDKLEED op “date”, maar eerst gingen we iets drinken. Van het moment dat we daar aankwamen tot het moment dat mijn flesje cola light op was, ging de conversatie er zo aan toe: ‘Me, me, me. Moi, moi, moi. Ik, ik, ik.’. Plezant, dus. #Not

Enfin, een rasechte dickhead. Het was oninteressant, de film F&F 5 daarentegen, was leuk. We hielde contact, even later voor het eerst gekust, wat ik verschrikkelijk vond, want ik voelde me alles behalve aangetrokken tot hem. (mijn type is de stereotype van de Israeli dude van middenoosterse origine met bruine ogen en donkere krullen, terwijl hij de karikatuur was van een Scandinavische trol), just sayin’. Ik stopte zelfs de kus om mijn verhaal verder te vertellen, die hij had onderbroken door mij te kussen, How dare he??? #Rude

Na een tijd kwam er een eind aan dat verhaal. Hij had gekregen wat hij wou, en toen was zijn interesse in mij verdwenen. Enfin, ik was wel gekwetst omdat dat echt een dickhead move was, maar ging er heel snel over, want hij interesseerde mij toch niet. #NotInterested

Later kwam ik te weten wat hij allemaal uitspookte met het vrouwenbevolking, en toen sloeg ik tilt! Hij gebruikte vrouwen, maar hij wikkelde dat in een zéér onoriginele verpakking! Hij deed bijvoorbeeld altijd alsof hij rijk was, en dat een bepaalde auto van een vriend, eigenlijk van hem was, dat hij een eigen bedrijf runde, en hij zogenaamd dure cadeau’s kocht voor de vrouwen die hij datete, terwijl het eigenlijk ‘plastiek’ was die hij dan inpakte in een mooi en duur doosje! You name it, hij had alle klotemoves die er maar konden bestaan. #Klootzak

Wraak nemen stond niet direct op de planning, maar toen ik M leerde kennen en hij uitlegde wat voor dickmove hij wel had meegemaakt met Dickhead, en ik uitlegde dat hij op alles wat bewoog sprong, bedachten we dat wij zijn klein breintje wel heel snel konden foppen. #Revenge

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Singlehood: About Halloween Night!

Column Singlehood - Banner3 years ago, on October 31st I became single, after a 9-month toxic relationship. You know about that if you read my previous columns. Zozo and I decided to go out and dress up a bit on Halloween. She went as a Playboy Bunny and I went as Minnie Mouse. We found a party to go to in a latin bar and decided to have fun.

I didn’t know if being single that day was a curse or a blessing. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to be single as I’m not confronted to a stupid man I’m killing my time with. But, on the other hand, I obviously miss dating a guy.

For some reason, that night we met a bunch of guys, and we were okay with that, as we like to observe people. HAHA! First off, we started the night at a bar we didn’t know. As we were dressed up, we got free shots. That was pretty cool and the bartender did look cute (even though it is hard to tell as he had the joker makeup all over his face, so maybe he could have been an ugly beast, once make up removed!). The party there wasn’t our jam, the people were much older, and we kind off got stalked by some drunken dude. We decided to move to that Halloween party in Cuba Bella, our local latin club across the street.

We were dancing in the middle of the dancefloor, all by ourselves, without being interrupted by anyone, until Zozo got to talk to a guy who wanted to dance with her. She had met hem previously and promised to dance with him “next time”, and I guess “next time” was this time. His friend asked me to dance, and I couldn’t say no because Zozo was dancing and it would be awkward if I said no. Even though the guy wasn’t my thing, and he was walking around in a tank top; yes, a freaking TANK TOP! Oh my lord, please! Once we started to dance, I really felt bad, I didn’t feel comfortable with him. It really annoyed me. Because, let’s face it, Mr. Tank Top wasn’t the ideal dance partner. This song couldn’t come to an end, and I was fully ignoring the guy I was dancing with. Awkward level 1555! Finally! We were done! ‘Come Zozo, let’s see what the other side of the bar has to offer.’ And off we went!

We sat in front of the bar were Italian tourists were standing too. For some reason, there was a tiny, chubby, blond Italian guy who thought I was pretty with my Minnie Mouse ears. So unfortunate I don’t fall for tiny, chubby and blond Italian men. So, I crossed him off my list. His friend had a thing for Zozo and asked us if we wanted to drink something, but we didn’t want to. To joke I told him the guy I was chitchatting with wanted to drink, and the Italian guy started to laugh and disappeared. 5 minutes later he came back with beer so, I said to the guy: “You should thank me for the drink, ’cause it’s because of me you got it!” We started to laugh, Zozo joined, his friends joined and we started to have a ‘group’ conversation.

I was totally not paying attention to his friend and I was totally not that friendly with him but for some reason, that guy told Zozo we had a connection! Exceezemewhat? A CONNECTION? WHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHHA! The best laugh I ever had. Let’s call him Mr. Rico, because that is the name he gave Zozo. Apparently Mr. Rico had a thing for me. I did not. He told me he was half Algerian, half Portuguese, after I told him I had Algerian roots. What a coincident, don’t you think? He did not speak Portuguese and he had a very Moroccan last name. Another coincident is that when I told him I live in Boho, he apparently lives in the most famous streets of Boho.

That’s why I don’t trust men that much anymore. Too many coincidences at once. He asked for my Facebook, I did not give him. He asked me how he could find me, I told him he would if it was meant to be. At this point, one month later, he still ain’t find me on that damned platform. It’s better like that. But Zozo, gave her number to his friend, which ended being a total disaster…

Each month I am going to tell you a piece of my singlehood story and my last relationship, that will lead us to where I am today. If you are interested in knowing more, stay tuned on my blog, because I will be posting an article each month to tell you more about it. I will not divulge any real names in it, if one day I use a name, I will make sure to change the name to another one, except if that person is okay with being named. 

Until Next Time, 

Love | Sarah K.

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Singlehood V: Miss Detective on a Mission

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I haven’t written a column for a long time because my laptop did an update and erased all the Notes I had, meaning everything I had prepared for my blog. Thank you very much, MacBook! I was so pissed that I didn’t open Notes for a long time, and here I am. Now, I have decided that I wouldn’t update the column weekly because I don’t have enough ‘stories’ to keep on rambling about, on my Singlehood, so I will upload one each month.

Anyway, last time I was talking about Mr. Stalker, whom I have talked to for the first time at the treadmill at my local gym. I didn’t realize he didn’t speak Dutch and his English was basic.

By that time, I had updated all my class maids about him, and a couple of friends. I told this story about the treadmill to a friend of mine, and if you don’t remember the story, here it is: I was running on the treadmill when I saw him walking by the gym. He came in, I was on the cool down mode and no other treadmill was free at that point. He saw me slowing down and came up to me and asked: « Finished? » I nod that I was finished and gave him the treadmill. At that point, I did not realize he didn’t speak Dutch and that his English was pretty basic.

This friend started laughing and told me it could come on handy to know the verb « finish » in other situations. I thought this was pretty hilarious. I like dirty jokes because I have a dirty mind. From that moment on I started to call him Mr. Finished, because that is just plain hilarious! 😉

Mr. Finished kept on eye-stalking me for months, and I kept being shy in his presence. No idea why, though. I don’t look him in the eye, I make sure I’m not too close to him at the gym. Somewhere, I’m scared he starts talking to me while I may not understand him and that is awkward.

But I was still curious to know where he was from. He does not speak Dutch, means he hasn’t been living in Belgium for a very long time. From the English I have heard from him, it’s pretty basic. The only language I know he speaks fluently is Arabic, but he has a weird accent, though. I’m not an expert on Middle Eastern Arabic, but it didn’t sound familiar to me. So, I’m such a curious person (my nickname is Detective), I decided to ask in a Facebook Group called Polyglots, what kind of Arabic it could be. Some gave me ideas but they couldn’t help me with the few information I had.

By that time, Ramadan was on, and I saw him eating and drinking in public. It kind of shocked me, as I expected him to be Muslim. Well, he could be a non-religious Muslim but as he probably just emigrated, most of these people are still pretty religious so I crossed that off my list. That made me think, again. With this whole situation in the Middle East, he could be a refugee (or ex-refugee probably) and where do non-Muslim refugees, from the Middle East come from these days? Iraq and Syria. My conclusion was: He must be a Yezidi. I started looking up information about the Yezidi people and indeed they are not Muslim (that is why they are persecuted) and some of them do speak Arabic at home, but they may have a different dialect from other standard-ish Iraqi Arabic.

That explained a lot about my thoughts, and I was pretty proud of myself that I had accomplished this whole mystery by myself. Well, I’m still not sure if he’s a Yezidi but he is got a friend at the gym who walks in a tank top and has a tattoo saying Yezidi on his arm so how obvious can it be? They’re always together, speak the same language, so I’m pretty sure this is the answer to my question. And that, made me curious even more…

Each month I am going to tell you a piece of my singlehood story and my last relationship, that will lead us to where I am today. If you are interested in knowing more, stay tuned on my blog, because I will be posting an article each week to tell you more about it. I will not divulge any real names in it, if one day I use a name, I will make sure to change the name to another one, except if that person is okay with being named. 

Until Next Time, 

Love | Sarah K.

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Singlehood IIII: Freakshow of Stalkers!

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2014 went by and somehow wanted to make friends in my class, and so I did. I became friends with Zoë and Ines. By that time in 2015, I was still very much single. I wanted to retire from the department of Singlehood, but things started to change a bit in that department.

March 2015, last week of school before Spring break. My girls and I decide to have cocktails at a student bar in the basement of our faculty. Having fun with a couple of girls was refreshing. I haven’t done that in a long time and made me nostalgic of the good old days, when I would have drinks with one of my girlfriends in a famous cocktail bar called Absithbar/Appelmans, and we would judge the guys in the bar, being flirty with these guys, etc. It made me think that I desperately needed to get rid of my stubborn and faithful job of mine, at the department of Singlehood. 

Not too long before that, on a Saturday afternoon, while working out at the gym with my sister, a guy comes up to me. He isn’t good looking, has no hair, around 30 years old, small and has a heavy accent when speaking Dutch, asks me if the bottle of water on the other elliptical is mine. Like, I would take a whole elliptical next to me, just to put my water bottle on it, because I do not have any space on my elliptical to put my bottle, who by the way, WAS ON my machine and it was very visible. Logical thinking wasn’t his biggest strength. I told him that it wasn’t mine, as I moved that same bottle from the elliptical my sister wanted to use, on the one next to me. Anyway, the guy puts the bottle on the floor next to the elliptical and starts to work out. After 5 minutes, he stops, goes on a treadmill, doesn’t stop looking at me, like a big creep, stops his workout on the treadmill to come back to the elliptical next to me, to ask me: ‘Is this bottle of water laying on the floor yours?’ ARE YOU FREAKISHLY KIDDIN’ ME????? ARE YOU FO’ REALZ? I hold myself from screaming and told him politely: ‘Once more, it isn’t mine!’ I knew at that very moment, I had my very first stalker of the year 2015, in front of me. This situation nerve wrecked my sister. She cannot handle annoying guys, certainly not the ones from the gym. We continued our workout, went straight ahead on strength exercises and somehow the guy was always somewhere near us, watching us. He’d even find an excuse to talk to me, as I dropped my phone and he told me I should buy a case to protect my phone. Like, I know shit about phones and cases, sure! I answered with a very short answer, but he’d still continue talking to me. My sister was on the verge of exploding, and I was too. He suddenly asks me: ‘Can we talk?’ I told him I’d rather not as he can see I was working out with my sister. He answered with: ‘I could try, you know.’ I really, really, wanted to get rid of this dude and my prayers were answered as I saw him talking to another girl, not so long after he was talking to me. STALKER, BAD STALKER, DESPERATE STALKER, BOOHOO! 

The next few days, he kept on looking at me, trying to get with other girls but didn’t talk to me, THANK GOD! Somewhat around the same time, once more at the gym, I was working out on the treadmill and suddenly a guy comes in, looks at me, I looked at him and the way he looked at me, seemed like he had found the love of his life! HAHA! He looks much older than me, he wasn’t my style AT ALL, but somehow, I liked the fact that he had given me a couple of seconds of attention. He looked very shy as he looked away, a couple of seconds after I had looked back. That happened every single day we came across each other at the gym. 

I called him « Mister Stalker » even though he didn’t stalk me at all, but I didn’t know his name, and as the way he looked at me came across as « stalkerish », I called him like that. I would tell the girls in my class each week about what happened with Mister Stalker and they would laugh, as it was pretty funny to have an update on such a situation. A couple of weeks after I ‘met’ him for the first time, nothing had happened yet. I was running on the treadmill when I saw him walking by the gym. He came in, I was on the cool down mode and no other treadmill was free at that point. He saw me slowing down and came up to me and asked: « Finished? » I nod that I was finished and gave him the treadmill. At that point, I did not realize he didn’t speak Dutch and that his English was pretty basic. I was curious to know where he came from… 

Each week I am going to tell you a piece of my singlehood story and last relationship, that will lead us to where I am today. If you are interested in knowing more, stay tuned on my blog, because I will be posting an article each week to tell you more about it. I will not divulge any real names in it, if one day I use a name, I will make sure to change the name to another one, except if that person is okay with being named. Obviously, I am not sharing any specific details about my ex or any involved men. We’ll call him Mister Small Penis.

Until Next Time, 

Love | Sarah K.

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Singlehood, Part III: Lawyered!

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Last time in Singlehood, Part II: I’m over Mister Small Penis:

By that time, I had gained ten kilograms since the relationship started, to April 2014. I did realize I was fat but somehow didn’t want to do anything about it. Dating people was not in my vocabulary. A friend told me about Tinder and I made an account, that wasn’t the best experience to be honest. I had a lot of matches, but all were more into sex and not into dating, the ones who were into dating were straight dumb assholes. This app made me insecure even more. I had gained a lot of weight and wasn’t going to show my naked self to any man on planet earth as long as I was looking like I did. College had gone worst, I had failed almost all my classes and couldn’t pass for them all in the resit period. I didn’t gain the required 50% and wasn’t allowed to study at this university anymore and didn’t see that coming. I had to make a choice ASAP and quickly decided I should go for a language teacher’s program. I came home crying after a week in that college, quit, and started Applied Linguistics all over again, in another university. By October 2014, still single. 

I couldn’t find my marks in here, I wasn’t friends with anyone, still thinking about last year where everything was great friendship wise. October went by, the first year anniversary of my sister’s death. I couldn’t believe it had been a year already. Update on my #YOLO project? Stil not very far, to be honest. I wasn’t in the mood either to yoloing the *ish out of everything. I felt like nothing. But at least, I wasn’t lying to my boyfriend about university, like Mister Small Penis did. About that story, Mister Small Penis told me he was in law school in Rotterdam when we met. At first, as I didn’t know Mister Small Penis, I believed him. You know, giving people the benefit of the doubt, right? After knowing him a bit, I quickly realized that him being in Law School is extremely ambitious. He was a slow minded person. He did speak his first language on a mother tongue level (I guess??) but, his English and Dutch were rotten and the rest of his polygotness, inexistent. He then told me his mom paid 8000 euros for his entire BA at Erasmus University while this is not how tuition goes in Holland. You pay year by year as you do not know if you can actually pass a year in college as you have to gain all credits back in order to pass to BA 2, fully. And back then tuition fee for a year in a Dutch College was around €1700,00 x 3 years in Law School = €5100,00. He also told me that he got a train abonnement from Antwerp to Rotterdam from the university, which after a little research, doesn’t exist. And when I confronted him with all these facts, he didn’t know what to say, as ‘Mommy did all the paperwork for him’. So, who are you trying to impress here, really? No one, indeed. Then, at the end of his so-called First BA in Law School, I asked him if he had any retakes to do (which you expect from a guy who isn’t that clever, I could even say, plain stupid.) and the answer was NO. He also had plenty of time to wake up around 10 during the finals, could study 3 to 4 hours a day and go to the gym at night like it’s all a piece of cake. Oh, oh! And he called me a couple of times during the academic year, telling me he was in class (in Holland, obviously) and hung on the phone for an hour, while I told him he shouldn’t call me as it is very expensive but he’d always tell me ‘Don’t worry, don’t worry, my mom pays the bill’ and as it an international phone call, I’d expect to pay half way through the conversation, but I never had to. And my true detective-self would found this to be strange and check his ‘flag’ on BBM that would tell me if he was in Holland yes or no and as I guessed, never of these times he would suppose to be in Holland, the Dutch flag would come up. NEVER.  

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So Mister Small Penis not only had a small penis, he was a filthy lying prick too. Oh, oh! I was Googling ‘Mister Small Penis’ to see if this term was already in use (but it wasn’t) and I found a picture of sizes of penises and conclusion: we should call him Mister Extra Small Penis, as a ‘small penis’ was bigger than his, but we’re not going to do that, as I like Mister Small Penis as a name. In my case a name, in his case a Lifestyle and fact. For some reason, I’d like to prank him at the moment. Just because I feel like I should give Karma a push in the back. I once told him that one day Karma would take him back and I’d be watching him on the front row, but that day hasn’t come yet, and I’m really in doubt about if that day will ever come. 

Karma did somehow hit him after the breakup. A little before the breakup, the gym we went to was going to swap from being a HealthCity (an all inclusive gym) to Basic-Fit (a basic no facilities gym). He obviously wasn’t going to workout in a basic gym, so he was going to switch to HealthCity in Berchem. I would too, as it was the closest to where the other gym was and I fully used the sauna, tanning bed, and other facilities. At that time, we were still together but he started weird conversations about the gym, quite often. Saying it wasn’t a good idea going to that gym in Berchem because all his friends were there, he couldn’t give me any attention, etc. Pure Bull crap, I ruminated about for days. Literally, a day before the final day our gym was a HealthCity, he broke up with me! Don’t you think it’s weird? I did! That’s why he didn’t convince me to swap to another HealthCity in the city. Starting from November 2012, I went to HealthCity Berchem, and he was there too. He’d see me every single day and he’d look down to the ground, as of he was ashamed. He’d better look down, that son of a *****! He somehow became my motivation to go to the gym, this way I’d stay thin. I got quickly over that gym, left it as it was far from where I live and moved to HealthCity Keyserlei, in the city. 

2014 went by and somehow wanted to make friends in my class, and so I did. I became friends with Zoë and Ines. By that time in 2015, I was still very much single. I wanted to retire from the department of Singlehood, but things started to change a bit in that department. 

Each week I am going to tell you a piece of my singlehood story and last relationship, that will lead us to where I am today. If you are interested in knowing more, stay tuned on my blog because I will be posting an article each week to tell you more about it. I will not divulge any real names in it, if one day I use a name, I will make sure to change the name to another one, except if that person is okay with being named. Obviously, I am not sharing any specific details about my ex or any involved men. We’ll call him Mister Small Penis.

Until Next Time, 

Love | Sarah K.

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Singlehood, Part II: I’m over Mister Small Penis!

Column Singlehood - Banner

Last week in Singlehood Part I: Damn it! It just got to me, he was one hell of an asshole and thinking about it made me realize why. I started cyberstalking him, to see what did chance in his life on social media, to see if he had someone else…

I’d gone through his BBM, WhatsApp, and Facebook. Suddenly, I see a girl post things on his wall, a little way too often, with ‘love’ emojis. Even though he stayed cool to all these messages, I knew this was just his way of hiding it. It got in my face like: That small-penised bastard had someone else! I don’t say he ‘cheated on me while we were together’ but to be with me he left his ‘booty call’ so why wouldn’t he leave me to be with this girl, right? I was fierce, I should have known that his leaving-his-bootycall-situation would turn out to be the same situation I’m in. I’m not going to lie, It got me down, but on the other hand, I kind of cyberstalked that girl and I quickly figured out that she has no future with him either. She isn’t religious, not from the same ethnic background and the background she is from, his mother hates the guts out of these people, #Racist. 

All the little things he said once just surfaced up to me. He once told me he was physically into these girls from ‘that ethnic background’. Now, the girl from ‘that ethnic background’ is suddenly pretty active on his Wall. She studies Law at the university, he told me he ‘studied’ law at the university (a lie I will talk about later). They are suddenly at the same parties ALL THE TIME. Come on, how much hints does a girl need to realize he was a sneaky bastard who used her? Oh and by the way, why do people who are overly active on social media with each other, are never on pictures together at these parties they are always at? Do you have something to hide, Mr. Small P.?

Sudden realization: he used me! I was just a past time baby till the next one arrived, but I’m sure she is just a past time baby too, till the next one arrives. It didn’t make me happy, but I thought: hey, I’m not the only one, so go on with your life, girl. That’s what I did. As I told you before, I went out, had too many drinks, great food and suddenly gained much weight. By the time I was completely done with him and wanted to meet new guys, I had gained so much weight that the insecureness got to me. I didn’t want to date any guy, any time soon. 

In the main time, I got my high school degree, went to college and that didn’t work out either. It became a whole mingle of things that gone wrong. I really felt like a piece of shit. I started college in January so I hadn’t had a full academic year. I fully started my first BA in October 2013, I met new people, made new friends and everything started to look like I was going to get a kick in the ass and everything would fall into place. There was a cute boy from abroad in my class and we got along (friendly speaking, bien sûr) but I quickly realized he had a girlfriend, #Bummer.  Okay, he has a girlfriend, so be it. He made me realize or made me make the click that I was 100% over Mister Small Penis. Unfortunately, my big sister died not so long ago, and not wanting to go into details, it didn’t better my situation. As she died very quickly, I decided that #YOLO was the way to go. I promised myself I would say yes to every invitation I got from friends. School was still a misery, I went out almost every single night, I belonged to a group of friends who were younger than I am and it fell good. I went to London with a couple of friends, had a blast all year round. But I forgot that I was single for one year and a half now. Did I care? I think I’ve got into the friend zone with… MYSELF! 

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By that time, I had gained ten kilograms since the relationship started, to April 2014. I did realize I was fat but somehow didn’t want to do anything about it. Dating people was not in my vocabulary. A friend told me about Tinder and I made an account, that wasn’t the best experience to be honest. I had a lot of matches but all were more into sex and not into dating, the ones who were into dating were straight dumbs assholes. This app made me insecure even more. I had gained a lot of weight and wasn’t going to show my naked self to any man on planet earth as long as I was looking like I did. College had gone worst, I had failed almost all my classes and couldn’t pass for them all in the resit period. I didn’t gain the required 50% and wasn’t allowed to study at this university anymore and didn’t see that coming. I had to make a choice ASAP and quickly decided I should go for a language teacher’s program. I came home crying after a week in that college, quit, and started Applied Linguistics all over again, in another university. By September 2014, still single. 

Each week I am going to tell you a piece of my singlehood story and last relationship, that will lead us to where I am today. If you are interested in knowing more, stay tuned on my blog because I will be posting an article each week to tell you more about it. I will not divulge any real names in it, if one day I use a name, I will make sure to change the name to another one, except if that person is okay with being named. Obviously, I am not sharing any specific details about my ex or any involved men. We’ll call him Mister Small Penis.

Until Next Time, 

Love | Sarah K.

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Column: Singlehood, Part I – Throwback Thursday to three years ago

Column Singlehood - BannerI have been single for a little less than 3 years now, and I feel that I should write about it, because it may be time for me to change that. Before I tell you why I should change my relationship status, I should tell you about my last one: 

Three years ago I was in a toxic relationship with someone I knew, it wouldn’t last forever. We did not share the same religious views (he was more religious than I am) and belongs to a family who looks down on people who are not from the same religious, ethnic and financial background than they are. Lucky him, we didn’t share anything in common on all three points, that was promising! He seemed sweet at first, and I myself didn’t have lots of boyfriends and found this to be the perfect opportunity to date him, even though, we were like ‘best friends’ at first and I knew by dating him, that the friendship would end at some point; I did it anyways. The only thing I gained out of this is the experience of having a 9-months-lasting-relationship, really, nothing else. 

After a six months relationship, the last summer of the relationship (around this time, three years ago), I wasn’t a happy person. It made me realize what we had was toxic and I should end it, ASAP. I did not, because I did not know how. As I was an unhappy person, I made him feel miserable from time to time and one day he just broke up with me (Halloween 2012), BOOM: trick or treat! I thought that this was my opportunity, I was free and felt that I should make him feel as he was the bad guy in this story, ‘cause he really just was, at the end. Me, being a great actress, I showed him what I got; I made him feel as I was madly in love with him, while I was not. We had a talk, face to face, and even though, I have to admit it, I was sad and had a hard time speaking, a part of me was still acting. For instance, when we had that talk, we had it in the apartment of a friend,  at the end we had nothing to say to each other and I decided to leave. As I knew he would follow 5 minutes later, I decided to stay in the elevator and pretend to cry in there, to make the bastard feel guilty. I know, it was evil, but he pretended to be sad too while this was all a joke to him. What a scumbag! I felt bad but still, I was convincing myself that he would regret it, wanted to start fresh and this could be the opportunity for me to break up with HIM! Yes, mam, I’ve got it all planned out! Unfortunately (or not), he was serious about the breakup and it finally got to me. He had someone else! I cried for a week, did not eat for 36 hours, lost 3 kilos and ended up depressed for six months. 

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During these six months, I cried over romantic songs I’m usually not emotional about; cried on the phone to a friend of mine about him ALL THE F-ING TIME; went out so much I gained so much weight that I ended up being disgusting. What I think broke me, was the fact that he broke up with me and not the other way around. I felt like I was the weak person who got broken up with. After six months, the crying ended, the depression: so-so. I was still depressed, but at least I did not cry over him anymore. Because, why would I? I was not even in love with him! He was definitely not my type; the sex was horrible; he literally had the smallest penis I had ever seen and the last six months of the relationship, he barely gave me any attention. Damn it! It just got to me, he was one hell of an asshole and thinking about it made me realize why. I started cyberstalking Mister Small Penis, to see what did chance in his life on social media to see if he had someone else…

Each week I am going to tell you a piece of my singlehood story and last relationship, that will lead us to where I am today. If you are interested in knowing more, stay tuned on my blog because I will be posting an article each week to tell you more about it. I will not divulge any real names in it, if one day I use a name, I will make sure to change the name to another one, except if that person is okay with being named. Obviously, I am not sharing any specific details about my ex or any involved men. We’ll call him Mister Small Penis.

Until Next Time, 

Love | Sarah K.

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