Transgender Crush Update...
Her Husband looked familiar because I knew him almost thirty years ago...or knew his big/tall twin intimately. We were at a Ski Resort in Colorado. Someone set up a Ski slalom run in celebration orfir tge Winter Olympics. They were having “mock” Olympic games. I signed up for the women’s downhill slalom. I’d already competed in the half-pike placing 2nd. The 1st place Winner was a braggy bitch from UCLA who kept trying to steal my new Boyfriend, a 6’5” Russian Man. He claimed he had swam the Bearing Strait to enter the USA 🇺🇸 when the USSR collapsed. Nobody believed him until he swam The English Channel with all of us cheering him from a boat! He was USSR Military held under partial guard by the Airforce. They let him out to Ski and play Hockey. He claimed to be the King of Norway too.
I studied the course on a tiny 3D map inside the lodge but I’d never skied the course. I plotted my ski run or rather HE did. I was a less skilled skier than the UCLA Woman but built better with a runners figure and fearlessness. “AMY listen to me! The end of the course is TOO SHORT, YOU MUST break your speed before you get to the bottom or you’ll go over a 200 foot sheer cliff.” “If I break my speed, I chance falling. I’ve only been skiing for four years. I can’t guarantee I won’t fall in the snow if I take the curves. Look. This course lets me FLY straight down, straight dien lije the crow flies!” “You have to break your speed at this curve, everything else is keeping your balance going straight down. I’ll catch you. I’ll be at the bottom and there to catch you. I swear it.” “Good. I’m going to win Gold.” “I know. Nobody else is foolhardy enough to go strait down without slowing down. Who are you skiing for?” “Switzerland. I’m partially Swiss. I’ll Ski for Switzerland. You?” “I only Ski for Norway.”
I was scared at the top of the slope jump. I’d never skied like this with a timer and a gunshot start. I was scared. His brother knew it. He picked up a large snowball and threw it at me shouting...”Avalanche!” right as the gun fired. I jumped in startlement onto the ski ramp, too late to back out!
Straight down as the crow flies... keep my balance...lower my body to be more aerodynamic...keep my ski poles up...count curves...inside that curve outside this curve keeps me straight down...next curve...next curve...gotta curve...gotta curve...don’t fall...FLY...don’t let the snow touch you...curving...Jesus don’t let me fall...curving...through the curve! ...thank you God I didn’t fall! ...straight down as the crow flies...crouch down...ski poles up...straight down...there’s the finish!...through the finish! They’re cheering!...slow down...OMG I can’t slow down...oh Jesus they’re running to block the cliff...OMG where is he? OMG there he is!...OMG I’m going to go past him...he’s running...he’s not going to make it...OMG! I’m going to go over the cliff...Oh Dear God- BOOM 💥! Thank God! There he is! Blackness.
I’m not sure how long I was comatose. The last thing I saw was the big Russian jumping across the snow with his arm out like an NFL blocker! He went airborne in that jump. He flew just far enough to catch me with his arm about 10-20 feet from the cliff edge. My speed was still so fast that the impact broke his arm. Someone said he carried me off the course with that broken arm. I don’t remember, I was unconscious from the impact.
When I finally woke up, I’d won the Gold in the fake games. But the USA Airforce Colonel who was the time keeper grinned from ear to ear excitedly. I had broken the existing downhill slalom World Record. “You’re going in the Record books!” I don’t remember if they entered my name as Amy McGuyer or Amy Fox, 1991 or 1992 World Record holder in skiing. I was terrified to ski after that. Three people tried to break my record on that course. Two of them went over the cliff dying. They closed the ski run after the deaths, then hid the location after a third person attempted to break my record. Sports World Record is a challenge to be broken! It was a year or two after this that I was attacked in my home and stabbed multiple times, 26 or 46 times. Two stabs with an icepick to my head left me unable to speak for a few months and a few years with a speech impediment. Mengenitis from healing stab wounds left me with huge memory blanks.
I don’t remember everything right after that. What I remember is jumbled. He was on trial as a possible Russian Spy with the other Russian Men who had crossed the Bearing Straight with him. I had given some testimony prior to the trial. I was scheduled to testify. My testimony would have helped him & his Men. I was attacked and stabbed a week or two before testifying. I was considered a key witness. Someone told me they counted it in his favor that he had saved my life. He was not considered a Russian terrorist but was charged with rape. His Country worked out a deal with the USA having him serve part of a jail sentence in the USA and part of his year he spent free in his country like Persephone for several years. All the American Military guys liked him and admired him. I suspect the jail sentence was to make sure he didn’t disappear back into interior Russia. I was told he wrote me a song while in jail and apparently made me a leather jacket and carved a phenomenal log sculpture. When his sentence was complete, he returned to the jail to finish his carving apparently. I didn’t see him again for a long time. With memory intact, I would not have left him in jail. When my memory began returning after being prescribed an Altheimerz drug, I went and visited a restaurant bar in Colorado and ordered his weird brand of Vodka and drank it in one gulp like he did. I looked around but he didn’t show up. I did him the only favor I could think of as an absentee friend. I pulled my niece aside and told her his outrageous story and I told her to “trust the big Russian Man if he visits here and be honest about who you are!” She looks a lot like me but was born shortly after I was stabbed. “Don’t pretend to be me. Be yourself and be honest. He killed someone once with a single punch to the face. Caved there head in. Everyone always thinks that big men are stupid men and can’t see a lie for what it is. Don’t lie. Be yourself but say who you are and what I told you. He won’t hurt his child nor his brother’s child. Don’t give “them” the chance to trick any of you into hurting someone you ought to love!
The Transgender Woman was his little Brother or his son. I don’t know which. She’s how I met him. He was not cross-dressing when I met him. I blindly walked into a hostage “Taken” situation helping a female University friend carry groceries to her boyfriend’s house. Her boyfriend was a KGB Agent in the USA in 1990. He was “taking” University students in our GOP Private University and making satellite KGB spies of them. He had already converted three or four female students. The Transgender XY Woman was Norwegian Special Forces working with the USA Airforce to find a Norwegian Male Royal who had also been “taken.” My University called these kidnappings “The Meals on Wheels Rapes.” The Norwegian Transgender Woman spoke fluent Russian with a Russian accent and posed as a Russian Man to find us. She was possibly the most beautiful Man any of the American women had ever laid eyes on. I ran into her & spoke for a while at the Oslo Airport after visiting Swandog, she helped me pick out a souvenir for my charm bracelet. I recognized her but did not know from where. So, here she is here and I understand something about LOVE.
Back in 1990, She posed as a recently immigrated Russian student. She entered the Apartment where we were being held. The USA Women decided that the Norwegian Royal was NOT going to be raped and turned into a gay man as his FIRST sexual experience. I decided it was my Christian Duty to make him straight or bi-sexual. He was still a Virgin and handsome the way Norwegian Men are handsome, elvish. That’s what human beings do when males are talking about raping another male, especially when the intended victim is handsome. We could hear the other USA woman being raped screaming in the next room. We weren’t sure what they were going to do to the male among us. I was dragged into the room where she had been raped for at least an hour. She was lying comatose and naked on the floor. A group of about five Men sat and smirked around the room. Three more Men entered the room from outside bringing the Norwegian with them. He/she played it like Bilbo rescuing friends from Trolls. “You already had that other woman, I want the new woman!” They capitulated to his demands and pushed me toward him. He grabbed me and raped me. I found out later that is the official Norwegian policy when Norwegians are kidnapped and taken, make sure the Norwegians are raped by other Norwegians. I have mixed feelings about this policy. Turns out the Norwegian Special Forces him/her was also a Virgin and the brother to the kidnapped Norwegian Royal. He refused to stop raping me when the Russian’s demanded him to. I did NOT end up gang raped or sodomized or anything worse than extreme humiliation. His American orders were to get close to the hostages and keep us from being murdered when the Special Forces stormed the Apartment. They threw in a smoke bomb and he whispered in my ear telling me not to get up and covered me with himself. The USA troops entered with machine guns and captured the KGB Agent and his followers. The second the Norwegian let me up, I ran out the door and kept running. I saw him again in Colorado guarding the big tall Russian Man who swam the Bering Straight! I’d sneak off and sleep with the Norwegian Elven Man everyone thought was female because of his beauty. It’s a complicated story. It’s the true story of what happens when Russians and Americans mix too much. Everybody starts sleeping with everyone else, Transgender’s go straight, Gay men go bi, Lesbians get pregnant and straight Men go Transgender. That’s the real reason the USA & USSR did not fraternize during the Cold War. The big tall Russian Man left three babies to three different women behind. Those were girlfriends. He was accused of raping me. I was given a choice. Say he raped me and he went to jail, or say it was consensual and I would spend time in Military jail. I had decided to say exactly what happened in my testimony. The Russian Man had some weird Viking sex ritual that he was required by his Country’s law to perform if he married a foreign bride. He proposed marriage then explained his Viking sex ritual. I was thinking about it over the dinner where the ritual was discussed. Apparently, the Viking sex ritual granted you Citizenship in Norway or something. I thought that might be worth voluntarily participating. He upped the ante by claiming a castle and a jet and a pony and stables and a tennis court and an indoor swimming pool and a Medieval Library with unread Medieval books!!! Then he did something that American Men don’t do with new lovers and new girlfriends. American Men date beautiful women and try to get sex but they withhold there wealth when they’re proposing marriage to a less wealthy woman. I have dated several milionaies or CEO Heirs but only TWO American Men have been upfront about there wealth with me a “beautiful poor woman,” Kurt Cobain and Donald Trump Jr. The big tall Russian Man looked me in the eyes probably taking me by the hand and said “I will give you half of my Kingdom if you will marry me, and I will crown you with me as my Queen when I am crowned King.” Of course I said “Yes.” That’s what I intended to testify to. Did he lie or tell the truth? Does it matter? He was a wild man a bit like the Dothraki King in “Game of Thrones.” But he offered half his Kingdom for the promise of Love and Marriage and children like a King out of a Fairytale, no prenup requested.
American Men see Women in various ways but the bulk of the wealthy ones ALWAYS call there poor girlfriends “gold diggers” or “whores.” I came from a moderately wealthy family. I was raised with charm classes and finishing school after a childhood marriage proposal from a Saudi Billionaire’s son. The finishing school got me invites to fancy events, especially when other women started asking for manners or etiquette mini-lessons or which fork went with which dinner course. That made some women angry that my Mommy forked out cash to pay an etiquette expert to give me lessons during the summertime. I wasn’t THAT wealthy but I wasn’t THAT poor either. But extremely wealthy kids almost ALWAYS believe there worth lay in there wealth then they resent kids whose worth is in there accomplishments. My year at University before meeting the big tall Russian Man was spent making new friends. I LOVED everyone of my new friends. I was the party and event planner among them. I was 18 years old and allowed “out” for the first time in my life from a family home that was more Convent or Abbey than anything else. I spent that year making our first year at University the most memorable exciting best year anyone could have. I identify with the Disney Repunzal. You get out of that Ivory Tower and life is about love and friendship and fun. My “friends” decided to teach me a lesson. I don’t honestly know what they were trying to teach me. I was the hugger and encouraging card writer and Birthday 🎂 Planner in the group. My University Spouse nicknamed me “Sunshine & Happiness” and “Ray of Light” and felt like I should wear yellow all the time. It was a sweet thing to say.
The friends all planned a Party together to “out” themselves as Fortune 100 CEO Heirs. “Barnes & Noble” was the most hurtful. My BFF was Barnes. I thought the little New York bookstore was a quaint boutique shop with an apron wearing shop-keeper. “IKEA” was the second most hurtful. What was hurtful was that it mattered to them. Kurt Cobain found out about there mean weirdo party. His statement to me was “I hate most of the women I take everywhere with me. I don’t want to take the only woman I actually LIKE to a cheap Pizza joint for a date. Let’s take a weekend somewhere nice for a date? The Carribean? Snow skiing?” I don’t know what those “friends” we’re trying to teach? Nobody is perfect at 17 & 18. I planned a wake for my friends pet that died and located hard to find bagpipe dirges to play as we buried the pet. I guess that mean spirited University Party was trying to teach free spirited people not to care enough to think up fun parties or creative gatherings. Most of the women in the social group were raised on English Romance novels like “Jane Eyire,””Pride and Prejudice,””Little Women.” My favorite was “Ivanhoe” with the tragic romance between the Jewess and the Knight Templar my favorite. If you’re Daddy is CEO you get raised on extremely expensive bile in many cases!
I felt like Cinderella having her handmade dress ripped to shreds by the StepSisters at that mean spirited University party. I had two extremely lovely 1940’s dresses from my Grandmother I used to lend out to my University girlfriends to wear on dates like “Sisterhood of The Traveling Pants.” One was a black silk suit in a Wallace Windsor style and the other a heavy ochre brocade fabric with ornate black lace on it. The black silk suite got one girlfriend a wedding proposal from a reluctant boyfriend. The ochre dress got me a University Spouse until I was asked where I got the dress. “It’s a hand-me-down from my Grandmother! They made it a crime to be middle class and accomplished and finished. Then they made it a crime to be beautiful and marry wealthy. That’s the romance in English romance novels. The vicars daughter falls in love with the incognito Duke of Northumbria who cringes at her muddy shoes and overly friendly kindness to his servants. He’s an arrogant snobbish man who has trouble being polite to her annoying chatterbox Mother. But he eventually succumbs to the tiny sparkle of love in his heart and they marry and live happily ever after! The CEO’s kid’s response to English Romance Novels is “The Duchess.” I’ve watched “The Duchess” a few times. The Duke is pretty typical of very wealthy Men. The Duchess is STUPID and above all else she’s arrogant for a woman who doesn’t marry for love. Maybe that’s the CEO’s kid’s real problem? There Mother’s didn’t marry for LOVE. That’s what you get from the group, marriages of comfort or convenience or familiarity or to extend a Business Empire. Then one of the males falls for a female outside the group passionately...the current USA culture makes that male a fool and his LOVE a crime. IF he marries the woman he loves, his CEO kid friends do there best to destroy his marriage OR his wealth. It’s vicious. If he does not marry the woman he loves from a lower socioeconomic class the group works at finding him a loveless marriage victim. And they work at destroying the woman he loves by making her s stripper or prostitute. It’s honestly perverse. Stormy Daniels stripper name is based on the name of a CEO’s son she was in love with at our University. He’s a CEO himself now. He friended me on Social Media probably still looking for HER twenty-five years later. Most of the other love-based couples from the school who got ripped apart by a perverse meme lie and cheat and sneak off to be with the Man or Woman they loved at University. The USA doesn’t have many arraigned marriages. It’s got a bizarre meme that criminalizes passionate Love marriages. My family wanted me to marry a Preacher or a Military General but they never put comfort or convenience before true love. That’s the sadness of my generation X in the USA. The younger you are the more likely you are to FALL IN LOVE with whomever you date. The CEOs’ sons never understood that. They never understood that there Fathers’ sent them to a GOP Private Religious University to find a FIRST WIFE who loved them passionately so they could have the marriage everyone dreams of. Many of the poorer religious female students were virgins and that’s the big Geisha sex key. Virgin females almost always fall in love with whomever they have sex with first. Some fool in the group talked all the swines into whoring the BEAUTIFUL virgins there Father’s paid scholarships to get the pretty virgins into University. I was the virgin Bride of the Man I married at University. Social Media gives a clear picture of the reality of the Men who married for any reason besides passionate love. They’re miserable and it shows. Are they even still Married after twenty years? But I digress.
That big tall Russian Man proposed marriage like some Fairytale King straight out of “Ivanhoe.” I was Rebecca the Jewess in that moment with the Knight Templar begging her to marry him. He wasn’t hiding himself and forcing me to chase him. He proposed marriage like a King not a player. I loved him in that moment. I loved him for tackling me and keeping me from plunging off a cliff. But I loved him for his honest proposal, his honest offer of love and marriage.
That’s a big difference between cultures. In every dating relationship I have been in, the big tall Russian Man has been the only relationship where male-female roles are clearly defined without talking about them. I’m not talking about male female chores or work. I’m talking about relationship interaction roles. Some Men exude manliness and make it easy for Females to exude gentler female behaviors. I’m not criticizing other types of relationship interactions. There is a reason why those big tall Russian Men get surrounded by beautiful skinny models. Those Men create a space where women are appreciated for being beautiful & skinny & a model.
That’s another cultural difference. Younger USA Males want “multi-tasking” Wives. They want the beautiful skinny Model Wife but they also want the domestic servant wrapped up in the Wife package. The TRUTH of what USA Men want is this. The more you use your Wife as a Domestic Servant to cook and clean and babysit for you the uglier and fatter she gets. If you expect her to support the family with a second income AND be your domestic Servant, you are shortening her lifespan by years if not decades. And they aren’t pretty years with her walking around in a 1950’s dress twinkling her nose magically at housework. The kinds of schedules working Wives keep kills beauty and kills kindness. Those schedules create sexless worker bees. They have been statistically proven repeatedly to cause obesity, difficulty becoming pregnant, decreased sex drive, health issues related to stress and exhaustion etc. The average lifespan decrease of the working wife is about 10 years due to stress induced illness. If she divorces and remarries supporting herself, her life expectancy goes back up. The American Male EXPECTS a Domestic Servant, a Sex Slave, and a co-worker all packaged in a Supermodel face & figure. The beautiful model will retain her beauty for a couple of decades but it’s dramatically decreased with added work. The merely youthfully pretty lose beauty and figure dramatically quickly trying to meet unrealistic expectations. It’s what these men deserve. But a fair number just don’t know how deadly overwork actually is. If you ever live on a farm where you use horses to plow a field, you have to be careful of your horses. During plowing & planting season they work hard. If you don’t tend to them with food and water and brushing or you try to work 10 hour days, your plow horse will fall over dead. THAT is the new American Male with a Wife. They expect a beautiful shiny coat on a plow horse they’re working 10-12 hours a day AND they aren’t feeding the horse or providing drinking water after the work day ends. Those horses treated that way have a life expectancy of a week. And frankly the horse is happier dead. The Men beautiful skinny models gravitate towards WANT a kind sweet beautiful feminine Wife. They hire cleaning staff or a man Servant to do there Domestic Servant Jobs, OR they IGNORE the dirt and messy household. The dirtiest houses are Amish houses during planting season. A layer of dirt covers everything in the house, there’s mud on the floor, dishes in the sink. They smell like body odor and sweat because they have no time to draw a bath even. If the Wife helps in the field, they’re eating raw carrots or cold canned food for dinner. If you see an Amish Wife in the Field with her husband, you might think about dropping off a sackful of store bought canned food. The only time those women are in the field working like a man is when there Family is in danger of starving to death if there Field doesn’t get planted or harvested. Put that expectancy on your Wife not the expectancy that she be some sort of magical genie.
I studied the course on a tiny 3D map inside the lodge but I’d never skied the course. I plotted my ski run or rather HE did. I was a less skilled skier than the UCLA Woman but built better with a runners figure and fearlessness. “AMY listen to me! The end of the course is TOO SHORT, YOU MUST break your speed before you get to the bottom or you’ll go over a 200 foot sheer cliff.” “If I break my speed, I chance falling. I’ve only been skiing for four years. I can’t guarantee I won’t fall in the snow if I take the curves. Look. This course lets me FLY straight down, straight dien lije the crow flies!” “You have to break your speed at this curve, everything else is keeping your balance going straight down. I’ll catch you. I’ll be at the bottom and there to catch you. I swear it.” “Good. I’m going to win Gold.” “I know. Nobody else is foolhardy enough to go strait down without slowing down. Who are you skiing for?” “Switzerland. I’m partially Swiss. I’ll Ski for Switzerland. You?” “I only Ski for Norway.”
I was scared at the top of the slope jump. I’d never skied like this with a timer and a gunshot start. I was scared. His brother knew it. He picked up a large snowball and threw it at me shouting...”Avalanche!” right as the gun fired. I jumped in startlement onto the ski ramp, too late to back out!
Straight down as the crow flies... keep my balance...lower my body to be more aerodynamic...keep my ski poles up...count curves...inside that curve outside this curve keeps me straight down...next curve...next curve...gotta curve...gotta curve...don’t fall...FLY...don’t let the snow touch you...curving...Jesus don’t let me fall...curving...through the curve! ...thank you God I didn’t fall! ...straight down as the crow flies...crouch down...ski poles up...straight down...there’s the finish!...through the finish! They’re cheering!...slow down...OMG I can’t slow down...oh Jesus they’re running to block the cliff...OMG where is he? OMG there he is!...OMG I’m going to go past him...he’s running...he’s not going to make it...OMG! I’m going to go over the cliff...Oh Dear God- BOOM 💥! Thank God! There he is! Blackness.
I’m not sure how long I was comatose. The last thing I saw was the big Russian jumping across the snow with his arm out like an NFL blocker! He went airborne in that jump. He flew just far enough to catch me with his arm about 10-20 feet from the cliff edge. My speed was still so fast that the impact broke his arm. Someone said he carried me off the course with that broken arm. I don’t remember, I was unconscious from the impact.
When I finally woke up, I’d won the Gold in the fake games. But the USA Airforce Colonel who was the time keeper grinned from ear to ear excitedly. I had broken the existing downhill slalom World Record. “You’re going in the Record books!” I don’t remember if they entered my name as Amy McGuyer or Amy Fox, 1991 or 1992 World Record holder in skiing. I was terrified to ski after that. Three people tried to break my record on that course. Two of them went over the cliff dying. They closed the ski run after the deaths, then hid the location after a third person attempted to break my record. Sports World Record is a challenge to be broken! It was a year or two after this that I was attacked in my home and stabbed multiple times, 26 or 46 times. Two stabs with an icepick to my head left me unable to speak for a few months and a few years with a speech impediment. Mengenitis from healing stab wounds left me with huge memory blanks.
I don’t remember everything right after that. What I remember is jumbled. He was on trial as a possible Russian Spy with the other Russian Men who had crossed the Bearing Straight with him. I had given some testimony prior to the trial. I was scheduled to testify. My testimony would have helped him & his Men. I was attacked and stabbed a week or two before testifying. I was considered a key witness. Someone told me they counted it in his favor that he had saved my life. He was not considered a Russian terrorist but was charged with rape. His Country worked out a deal with the USA having him serve part of a jail sentence in the USA and part of his year he spent free in his country like Persephone for several years. All the American Military guys liked him and admired him. I suspect the jail sentence was to make sure he didn’t disappear back into interior Russia. I was told he wrote me a song while in jail and apparently made me a leather jacket and carved a phenomenal log sculpture. When his sentence was complete, he returned to the jail to finish his carving apparently. I didn’t see him again for a long time. With memory intact, I would not have left him in jail. When my memory began returning after being prescribed an Altheimerz drug, I went and visited a restaurant bar in Colorado and ordered his weird brand of Vodka and drank it in one gulp like he did. I looked around but he didn’t show up. I did him the only favor I could think of as an absentee friend. I pulled my niece aside and told her his outrageous story and I told her to “trust the big Russian Man if he visits here and be honest about who you are!” She looks a lot like me but was born shortly after I was stabbed. “Don’t pretend to be me. Be yourself and be honest. He killed someone once with a single punch to the face. Caved there head in. Everyone always thinks that big men are stupid men and can’t see a lie for what it is. Don’t lie. Be yourself but say who you are and what I told you. He won’t hurt his child nor his brother’s child. Don’t give “them” the chance to trick any of you into hurting someone you ought to love!
The Transgender Woman was his little Brother or his son. I don’t know which. She’s how I met him. He was not cross-dressing when I met him. I blindly walked into a hostage “Taken” situation helping a female University friend carry groceries to her boyfriend’s house. Her boyfriend was a KGB Agent in the USA in 1990. He was “taking” University students in our GOP Private University and making satellite KGB spies of them. He had already converted three or four female students. The Transgender XY Woman was Norwegian Special Forces working with the USA Airforce to find a Norwegian Male Royal who had also been “taken.” My University called these kidnappings “The Meals on Wheels Rapes.” The Norwegian Transgender Woman spoke fluent Russian with a Russian accent and posed as a Russian Man to find us. She was possibly the most beautiful Man any of the American women had ever laid eyes on. I ran into her & spoke for a while at the Oslo Airport after visiting Swandog, she helped me pick out a souvenir for my charm bracelet. I recognized her but did not know from where. So, here she is here and I understand something about LOVE.
Back in 1990, She posed as a recently immigrated Russian student. She entered the Apartment where we were being held. The USA Women decided that the Norwegian Royal was NOT going to be raped and turned into a gay man as his FIRST sexual experience. I decided it was my Christian Duty to make him straight or bi-sexual. He was still a Virgin and handsome the way Norwegian Men are handsome, elvish. That’s what human beings do when males are talking about raping another male, especially when the intended victim is handsome. We could hear the other USA woman being raped screaming in the next room. We weren’t sure what they were going to do to the male among us. I was dragged into the room where she had been raped for at least an hour. She was lying comatose and naked on the floor. A group of about five Men sat and smirked around the room. Three more Men entered the room from outside bringing the Norwegian with them. He/she played it like Bilbo rescuing friends from Trolls. “You already had that other woman, I want the new woman!” They capitulated to his demands and pushed me toward him. He grabbed me and raped me. I found out later that is the official Norwegian policy when Norwegians are kidnapped and taken, make sure the Norwegians are raped by other Norwegians. I have mixed feelings about this policy. Turns out the Norwegian Special Forces him/her was also a Virgin and the brother to the kidnapped Norwegian Royal. He refused to stop raping me when the Russian’s demanded him to. I did NOT end up gang raped or sodomized or anything worse than extreme humiliation. His American orders were to get close to the hostages and keep us from being murdered when the Special Forces stormed the Apartment. They threw in a smoke bomb and he whispered in my ear telling me not to get up and covered me with himself. The USA troops entered with machine guns and captured the KGB Agent and his followers. The second the Norwegian let me up, I ran out the door and kept running. I saw him again in Colorado guarding the big tall Russian Man who swam the Bering Straight! I’d sneak off and sleep with the Norwegian Elven Man everyone thought was female because of his beauty. It’s a complicated story. It’s the true story of what happens when Russians and Americans mix too much. Everybody starts sleeping with everyone else, Transgender’s go straight, Gay men go bi, Lesbians get pregnant and straight Men go Transgender. That’s the real reason the USA & USSR did not fraternize during the Cold War. The big tall Russian Man left three babies to three different women behind. Those were girlfriends. He was accused of raping me. I was given a choice. Say he raped me and he went to jail, or say it was consensual and I would spend time in Military jail. I had decided to say exactly what happened in my testimony. The Russian Man had some weird Viking sex ritual that he was required by his Country’s law to perform if he married a foreign bride. He proposed marriage then explained his Viking sex ritual. I was thinking about it over the dinner where the ritual was discussed. Apparently, the Viking sex ritual granted you Citizenship in Norway or something. I thought that might be worth voluntarily participating. He upped the ante by claiming a castle and a jet and a pony and stables and a tennis court and an indoor swimming pool and a Medieval Library with unread Medieval books!!! Then he did something that American Men don’t do with new lovers and new girlfriends. American Men date beautiful women and try to get sex but they withhold there wealth when they’re proposing marriage to a less wealthy woman. I have dated several milionaies or CEO Heirs but only TWO American Men have been upfront about there wealth with me a “beautiful poor woman,” Kurt Cobain and Donald Trump Jr. The big tall Russian Man looked me in the eyes probably taking me by the hand and said “I will give you half of my Kingdom if you will marry me, and I will crown you with me as my Queen when I am crowned King.” Of course I said “Yes.” That’s what I intended to testify to. Did he lie or tell the truth? Does it matter? He was a wild man a bit like the Dothraki King in “Game of Thrones.” But he offered half his Kingdom for the promise of Love and Marriage and children like a King out of a Fairytale, no prenup requested.
American Men see Women in various ways but the bulk of the wealthy ones ALWAYS call there poor girlfriends “gold diggers” or “whores.” I came from a moderately wealthy family. I was raised with charm classes and finishing school after a childhood marriage proposal from a Saudi Billionaire’s son. The finishing school got me invites to fancy events, especially when other women started asking for manners or etiquette mini-lessons or which fork went with which dinner course. That made some women angry that my Mommy forked out cash to pay an etiquette expert to give me lessons during the summertime. I wasn’t THAT wealthy but I wasn’t THAT poor either. But extremely wealthy kids almost ALWAYS believe there worth lay in there wealth then they resent kids whose worth is in there accomplishments. My year at University before meeting the big tall Russian Man was spent making new friends. I LOVED everyone of my new friends. I was the party and event planner among them. I was 18 years old and allowed “out” for the first time in my life from a family home that was more Convent or Abbey than anything else. I spent that year making our first year at University the most memorable exciting best year anyone could have. I identify with the Disney Repunzal. You get out of that Ivory Tower and life is about love and friendship and fun. My “friends” decided to teach me a lesson. I don’t honestly know what they were trying to teach me. I was the hugger and encouraging card writer and Birthday 🎂 Planner in the group. My University Spouse nicknamed me “Sunshine & Happiness” and “Ray of Light” and felt like I should wear yellow all the time. It was a sweet thing to say.
The friends all planned a Party together to “out” themselves as Fortune 100 CEO Heirs. “Barnes & Noble” was the most hurtful. My BFF was Barnes. I thought the little New York bookstore was a quaint boutique shop with an apron wearing shop-keeper. “IKEA” was the second most hurtful. What was hurtful was that it mattered to them. Kurt Cobain found out about there mean weirdo party. His statement to me was “I hate most of the women I take everywhere with me. I don’t want to take the only woman I actually LIKE to a cheap Pizza joint for a date. Let’s take a weekend somewhere nice for a date? The Carribean? Snow skiing?” I don’t know what those “friends” we’re trying to teach? Nobody is perfect at 17 & 18. I planned a wake for my friends pet that died and located hard to find bagpipe dirges to play as we buried the pet. I guess that mean spirited University Party was trying to teach free spirited people not to care enough to think up fun parties or creative gatherings. Most of the women in the social group were raised on English Romance novels like “Jane Eyire,””Pride and Prejudice,””Little Women.” My favorite was “Ivanhoe” with the tragic romance between the Jewess and the Knight Templar my favorite. If you’re Daddy is CEO you get raised on extremely expensive bile in many cases!
I felt like Cinderella having her handmade dress ripped to shreds by the StepSisters at that mean spirited University party. I had two extremely lovely 1940’s dresses from my Grandmother I used to lend out to my University girlfriends to wear on dates like “Sisterhood of The Traveling Pants.” One was a black silk suit in a Wallace Windsor style and the other a heavy ochre brocade fabric with ornate black lace on it. The black silk suite got one girlfriend a wedding proposal from a reluctant boyfriend. The ochre dress got me a University Spouse until I was asked where I got the dress. “It’s a hand-me-down from my Grandmother! They made it a crime to be middle class and accomplished and finished. Then they made it a crime to be beautiful and marry wealthy. That’s the romance in English romance novels. The vicars daughter falls in love with the incognito Duke of Northumbria who cringes at her muddy shoes and overly friendly kindness to his servants. He’s an arrogant snobbish man who has trouble being polite to her annoying chatterbox Mother. But he eventually succumbs to the tiny sparkle of love in his heart and they marry and live happily ever after! The CEO’s kid’s response to English Romance Novels is “The Duchess.” I’ve watched “The Duchess” a few times. The Duke is pretty typical of very wealthy Men. The Duchess is STUPID and above all else she’s arrogant for a woman who doesn’t marry for love. Maybe that’s the CEO’s kid’s real problem? There Mother’s didn’t marry for LOVE. That’s what you get from the group, marriages of comfort or convenience or familiarity or to extend a Business Empire. Then one of the males falls for a female outside the group passionately...the current USA culture makes that male a fool and his LOVE a crime. IF he marries the woman he loves, his CEO kid friends do there best to destroy his marriage OR his wealth. It’s vicious. If he does not marry the woman he loves from a lower socioeconomic class the group works at finding him a loveless marriage victim. And they work at destroying the woman he loves by making her s stripper or prostitute. It’s honestly perverse. Stormy Daniels stripper name is based on the name of a CEO’s son she was in love with at our University. He’s a CEO himself now. He friended me on Social Media probably still looking for HER twenty-five years later. Most of the other love-based couples from the school who got ripped apart by a perverse meme lie and cheat and sneak off to be with the Man or Woman they loved at University. The USA doesn’t have many arraigned marriages. It’s got a bizarre meme that criminalizes passionate Love marriages. My family wanted me to marry a Preacher or a Military General but they never put comfort or convenience before true love. That’s the sadness of my generation X in the USA. The younger you are the more likely you are to FALL IN LOVE with whomever you date. The CEOs’ sons never understood that. They never understood that there Fathers’ sent them to a GOP Private Religious University to find a FIRST WIFE who loved them passionately so they could have the marriage everyone dreams of. Many of the poorer religious female students were virgins and that’s the big Geisha sex key. Virgin females almost always fall in love with whomever they have sex with first. Some fool in the group talked all the swines into whoring the BEAUTIFUL virgins there Father’s paid scholarships to get the pretty virgins into University. I was the virgin Bride of the Man I married at University. Social Media gives a clear picture of the reality of the Men who married for any reason besides passionate love. They’re miserable and it shows. Are they even still Married after twenty years? But I digress.
That big tall Russian Man proposed marriage like some Fairytale King straight out of “Ivanhoe.” I was Rebecca the Jewess in that moment with the Knight Templar begging her to marry him. He wasn’t hiding himself and forcing me to chase him. He proposed marriage like a King not a player. I loved him in that moment. I loved him for tackling me and keeping me from plunging off a cliff. But I loved him for his honest proposal, his honest offer of love and marriage.
That’s a big difference between cultures. In every dating relationship I have been in, the big tall Russian Man has been the only relationship where male-female roles are clearly defined without talking about them. I’m not talking about male female chores or work. I’m talking about relationship interaction roles. Some Men exude manliness and make it easy for Females to exude gentler female behaviors. I’m not criticizing other types of relationship interactions. There is a reason why those big tall Russian Men get surrounded by beautiful skinny models. Those Men create a space where women are appreciated for being beautiful & skinny & a model.
That’s another cultural difference. Younger USA Males want “multi-tasking” Wives. They want the beautiful skinny Model Wife but they also want the domestic servant wrapped up in the Wife package. The TRUTH of what USA Men want is this. The more you use your Wife as a Domestic Servant to cook and clean and babysit for you the uglier and fatter she gets. If you expect her to support the family with a second income AND be your domestic Servant, you are shortening her lifespan by years if not decades. And they aren’t pretty years with her walking around in a 1950’s dress twinkling her nose magically at housework. The kinds of schedules working Wives keep kills beauty and kills kindness. Those schedules create sexless worker bees. They have been statistically proven repeatedly to cause obesity, difficulty becoming pregnant, decreased sex drive, health issues related to stress and exhaustion etc. The average lifespan decrease of the working wife is about 10 years due to stress induced illness. If she divorces and remarries supporting herself, her life expectancy goes back up. The American Male EXPECTS a Domestic Servant, a Sex Slave, and a co-worker all packaged in a Supermodel face & figure. The beautiful model will retain her beauty for a couple of decades but it’s dramatically decreased with added work. The merely youthfully pretty lose beauty and figure dramatically quickly trying to meet unrealistic expectations. It’s what these men deserve. But a fair number just don’t know how deadly overwork actually is. If you ever live on a farm where you use horses to plow a field, you have to be careful of your horses. During plowing & planting season they work hard. If you don’t tend to them with food and water and brushing or you try to work 10 hour days, your plow horse will fall over dead. THAT is the new American Male with a Wife. They expect a beautiful shiny coat on a plow horse they’re working 10-12 hours a day AND they aren’t feeding the horse or providing drinking water after the work day ends. Those horses treated that way have a life expectancy of a week. And frankly the horse is happier dead. The Men beautiful skinny models gravitate towards WANT a kind sweet beautiful feminine Wife. They hire cleaning staff or a man Servant to do there Domestic Servant Jobs, OR they IGNORE the dirt and messy household. The dirtiest houses are Amish houses during planting season. A layer of dirt covers everything in the house, there’s mud on the floor, dishes in the sink. They smell like body odor and sweat because they have no time to draw a bath even. If the Wife helps in the field, they’re eating raw carrots or cold canned food for dinner. If you see an Amish Wife in the Field with her husband, you might think about dropping off a sackful of store bought canned food. The only time those women are in the field working like a man is when there Family is in danger of starving to death if there Field doesn’t get planted or harvested. Put that expectancy on your Wife not the expectancy that she be some sort of magical genie.