Bock & Urinals

I had no problems with urinals whatsoever until the summer when I was 22 years old. Up until then I thought of it as extremely convenient fixture. You go in, take a broad manly stance in front of the fixture (so as not to cramp the flow), pull down your zipper, haul out your tackle and just let it flow.

However, the summer I was 22 I was out backpacking through Europe for a month. On the evening before the last day of the trip I was at "Gare du Nord" in Paris and was going to take the night train to Copenhagen.

While waiting to board the train, I felt an insistent need to relieve myself and knew I wouldn't be able to wait until I got on the train, so I went looking for a restroom.

I soon found a huge "Gentlemen's" in the cellar of the railway station. The first part of the room consisted of two lines of 15 urinals on the opposing walls. Almost all the slots were filled, except one almost at the end to the right, so I went there and started doing my business.

Just as I had started, I felt a nudge on my right shoulder from the man standing next to me. I looked at him, wondering what he wanted. He looked me in the eyes, then looked downwards. As I followed his gaze I saw that he was masturbating. Not only that, but all the other occupants were also erect and playing with themselves and looking towards me. Not only that, but as I looked over my shoulder I noticed that the row of men behind us were also jacking off and looking at me.

To this day I'm not sure why, but my external urethral sphincter - which supposedly controls the voluntary peeing - immediately cramped shut and my body started shaking as I felt more than 25 men looking lustfully at me.

Although I was gay, by no means a virgin and in my best shape ever, 5'8" (172 cm), 132 lb (60 kg) and fit, my mind started screaming "Danger! Danger! Get your ass out of this place - NOW!"

Maybe I thought I was going to get gang-raped or otherwise molested, but whatever I rushed out of there, without even tucking in before. I did that outside the room, luckily before anyone had seen anything.

Anyway, since that evening I am not able to use the bloody contraptions without getting feelings of panic and my sphincter shutting off, except when I am very, very drunk or very certain that I will be alone.

Acquiring a Habit

I know exactly when, where and why I started smoking and whom I was with at the time.

For a long time I was the only non-smoker in my immediate family. My parents, both my two sisters and their boyfriends (later husbands) were all smokers. When they lit up their cigarettes after dinners I used to run around frantically, open up windows and complain loudly about the smoke and the smell and how I couldn't breathe.

The summer when I was 26 years old, I decided to travel a month around Europe on Interrail. I was studying law at the university at the time and had suddenly discovered that I had an opening of four weeks after the term ended and my summer job started. As a young man with an overprotective father, I knew I could not tell my parents my decision too long in advance because that would give my father too much time to launch a campaign of trying to persuade me to travel in a "safer" way.

I broke the news to my parents the evening before I was going to leave. All hell temporarily broke lose and I was fed with images of myself laying murdered, slaughtered, violated, raped, maimed, brutalized etc. in every street, town square or hotel room in Europe by my poor father. When he calmed down, I promised to phone at least once a week and "if ever anything bad happened, however minor I may think it was". After making this deal with my devil father, I was graciously "allowed" to travel.

The morning after I left started with a short trip to Copenhagen to catch the "North Express" at one o'clock in the afternoon. The Nord Express is (or was) a daily railway connection  between Copenhagen and Paris and viceversa.

I was early, so I could choose where to sit and found a nice compartment with eight seats and settled in before the other passengers started arriving. The last one to arrive just before the train departed, was a tall and husky blond guy with trembling hands, amazing blue eyes and a dazzling smile. He sat down opposite me.

At first there was this usual awkward silence in the compartment but after awhile we all started talking a little and introducing ourselves and sharing our travel plans. The guy said his name was Andrew and that he was a Canadian from Newfoundland on vacation in Europe. He was on his way to Paris for a few days before he was joining an archeological excavation at some place outside the city.

Andy was a smoker, he smoked Marlboro's. I didn't mind a bit when he lit up a cigarette, strangely enough. When we had travelled together a while, he offered me to come with him for a cigarette in the corridor. I gladly went along with him and accepted the cigarette and puffed on it, carefully at first so as not to reveal that I was a beginner. We had a great time together and the smoke pauses repeated themselves during the trip until we settled in for the night. Andy stretched out his unshod feet towards my side and I did the same and in that way we went to sleep resting our heads on the others feet.

When we arrived in Paris we decided to get a room at a hotel together, until it was time for him to continue to his damn excavation. We had four wonderful days together in Paris. I had fallen in love and was sad to part. We stayed in touch the first six months after, but then with time and distance and other men the letters and cards swindled and finally ended. The only thing I was left with was my newly acquired habit of smoking.

To this day I still smoke Marlboro's and I think of Andy when I see a man with more than usual tremor in his hands.

Beauty Is...

Photo quoted from Associated Press/AP

The blooming of a single rare flower caused a minor botanical sensation yesterday in Botaniske Have (The Botanical Garden) in Copenhagen, Denmark.

After several days of waiting a flower named Amorphophallus Titanum (which means "giant deformed penis") started blooming at 7 PM local time. Within 20 minutes after that long lines of interested spectators had formed to look at the plant. The smell this flower emits from it´s interior is a foul stench, which is said to resemble that of rotten meat or a carrion.

"I was very proud. At the same time I was overwhelmed by the flower, it was more beautiful than I imagined. It is something else when you see it in reality", said the gardener Mr. Rasmus N. Kloster, when interviewed by my local paper Sydsvenskan yesterday. Mr. Kloster has been taking care of the flower for nine years for a few hours of pleasure as the is short lived and most of the plant will start to wither already today.
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As always an old saying seems to hold some truth, "Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder", because this must surely be one of the most hideous looking plants I have ever laid eyes on.

My Plans for Halloween

I have been mulling, tossing and turning what to do for Halloween in SecondLife. Now I - for the first time - can safely say that my real life solved my problems in SecondLife.

Instead of spending my Halloween-weekend with you, my lovelies, I will be going to Copenhagen tomorrow with two old friends and their spouses.

We are going to wine and dine at the great - and still extremely affordable - wonderful little restaurant called "Den lille fede" ("The little fat guy").

The five of us have been there together a few times before, but this will be my first night on the town since Ars passed away.

We have already preordered the five courses menu with wine. I am so looking forward to this outing into real life with these nice friends.

Let me show you pictures of four of the courses, I found the pictures on the restaurants site.

Absolutely mouth watering, don´t you think so too?