WILD BITCH SEASON 03 (English draft): Things will never be the same again

2010-12-05 19:27:12; book, english, Wild Bitch Season (Draft), Rogger Dojh, Wild Bitch Season (English), Rogger Dojh

Wild Bitch Season
by Rogger Dojh

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     (  )         0          It was a dark and stormy night...
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        /  \-'~;    /~~~(O)
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     =(  _____| (_________|
Things Will Never Be the Same Again (translation early alpha)
Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, as well as to real events and localities, is purely coincidental and unintended.  
... If you want to get a girl, one of best/most effective[B1] ways is to start hitting on her best girlfriend...
December 2000.
A few days before the end of the month.
Mila is lying sick at home. Damn rotten flu! Runny nose, cough … and 39.5 degrees Celsius[B2] . The girl is throwing up and feeling so bad she could hardly spell out her own name.
It’s around 10 PM. Her husband is not home. She has curled up in bed and can’t settle[B3] – every touch of the cool sheets sends painful signals into her brain. Her muscles are severely aching, her mind plays the same visions over and over again; the air she breathes feels icy against her fiery, dried up throat... The minutes are passing disturbingly slow and even the covers she is hugging with the hope to receive some warmth [B4] cannot comfort her.
It’s 11 PM. Mila gets up with a great effort to try and find aspirin, amidofen, paracetamol[B5] or whatever else to bring the fever down. She starts wandering around the apartment, swaying; finally goes to the bathroom to throw up again – the movement has turned out to be too much of a challenge for her wretched stomach. Poor thing, how sick she is! She is going back to bed and stays put.
12 AM. Mila is lying amidst feverish visions[B6] .
1 AM.
A key is inserted at the front door, it turns...
Mila shoots a Hi back. She’s talking fast, in order to shorten the moments of agony of speaking.
“Where have you been?” she adds. She keeps thinking[B7] that the place of her husband in tough moments like this is right beside her.
Annoyed by the sharp tone and the insistence of the question[D8] , Gesha sits on one of the chairs around the table and states:
“I was out with Geri. And I think you should know about what happened.”
Mila is overcome with the feeling[B9] that she actually doesn’t want to know what in hell’s name happened. On the contrary, she wants someone to take care of her, to spoil her a bit in order to somehow compensate for the bloody sickness.
“I slept with her,” her husband informs her[B10] . “I didn’t mean for this to happen, we sorta drifted into it...”
Mila’s throat has its own idea of how to react at the news. It says “Yuck” and for a few seconds refuses to swallow.
And in the silence comes the story of the unfaithful husband:
He went to see Geri, they had a few drinks and talked. Here they are, talking; but they’re both horny as rabbits, can’t sit still; finally the girl gets a little bit closer, he starts stroking her knee, then his hand slides up...
Mila doesn’t want to listen anymore. For God’s sake, Gergana is her best friend!!! Mila reacts sharply. For a moment the high fever and the disposition[B11] temporarily remain in the background. Damn it, how can you come home at 1 in the morning, considering I’m so ill – you didn’t even call to see how I am, knowing that I’m sick – and after that, come up with the excuse that you were actually busy screwing my best friend!!!
Her husband is sincerely outraged. He is being so honest, trusting her completely by confiding this secret of his with her... And how could she treat him like this! This is preposterous!
Mila lets herself slide back into the grip of the flu as it seems a bit more pleasant than the family atmosphere.
August 2000. Nelly is still hanging like a black storm cloud above the horizon, but that cloud has lost its power. A cloud being chased off by the winds, far away, towards unknown cursed lands, leaving above me a clear, washed by the rain, starry sky[B12] … deep and exciting…
That summer I met three Aquarian girls. Here’s what happened with each of them.
The first one, Jeni, came up in IRC accidentally. I liked her nick, we started a chat and from one word to another, we exchanged phone numbers and... well it was a very romantic telephone love. She probably didn’t see it exactly that way, but I really loved staying in my dark room in the evening and talking to her for hours. Actually I believe she too was into this a little bit. But after all she was only 15. There couldn’t be anything serious.
Here’s a story Jeni had come up, together with a friend:
Once upon the time, there was the Evil Princess, driving along through the park with her car. There she saw the Beautiful Lamia and her buddies, playing Chinese jump rope[D13] . The princess decided to spoil their game – she was pissed that they were keeping in shape. She put the pedal to the metal and – no sooner said than done[D14] .
The Beautiful Lamia ran away upset, trying to hide her tears. However, the Evil Princess had an enchanted prince, whom she ruthlessly ordered around.
The Evil Princess forced the prince capture the Beautiful Lamia. He had no other choice but to obey. He chased her, caught her by the throat, but the lamia was well-trained to withstand serious challenges[D15] .
The Evil Princess ordered the prince to turn the Beautiful Lamia into a lion. As he was holding the lamia, he started hitting her against the sidewalk with the only hope that she would admit that she is a lion.
In the meantime the mother of the Beautiful Lamia arrived and poured out her rage on the prince.
The old lamia mother beat up the poor prince, who wasn’t actually a prince, but a shepherd, forced by the Evil Princess to pretend to be a prince. Basically the shepherd didn’t have much more to live. But he had a secret potion given to him by the local witch. In fact, that witch was the wet-nurse of the Beautiful Lamia, but since she had abused LSD a bit when she was young she had gone mad and didn’t remember that fact.
So the shepherd took the potion and poured it on the head of the Evil Princess. She turned into a very, very, very evil princess.
So that Very Evil Princess got really pissed and took on the shepherd, dragons, nurse…
… made them think themselves to be cats in boots. She totally shattered their family values.
The End
The other two girls came in as a pair: Mila and Svetla.
I met Svetla F2F and on the next morning she left for L.A.
I met Mila F2F and five months after we started seeing each other.
The whole affair started one warm August evening.
Date: August 4th, 2000
Time: 8:00 PM
Venue: in front of Bilkova Apteka
15 minutes earlier and 50 meters away from Bilkova, I’m sitting in my office, tired, in a shitty mood and in a state of corrections resistance (in my military psychological profile there were many more similar horrid definitions of my character…). I.e. I don’t want to go anywhere and see anyone. However… it will be really retarded of me to stand them up – Mila and Svetla will be there any minute.
I keep sitting in front of the PC. My bitter experience so far hardly motivates me to go on a blind date. You imagine one thing, and what it turns to be in reality is[D16] ... The chat was so smooth and nice on the IRC; then, all of a sudden, when both of you have taken place around the table, you feel your head is empty, and the silence is kinda awkward...
I pull myself together and stand up – I should really go now. We exchanged 3 mails and a phone call until we set this up, I’d be an asshole to miss it. Even if the Gorgons personally came to visit me at Bilka, I’d survive somehow.
I put on my jacket and get out of the office. While I’m going down the stairs, my brain is trying to form a picture of the future encounter. Here’s what it has to work with: two girls from DMI (Department of Mathematics and Informatics in SU), one is a year older than me the other one is my age. The first one corresponds to the following description: “I’m relatively tall, relatively skinny (these two are constants for now), with short blonde hair and glasses. I’m wearing a white dress (country singer style :)) – well, short, straight white dress, doubt that there will be too many people wearing one…(My brain is giving the following interpretation: “A tall Somalian girl, wrapped in a white sheet, with a David Bowie hair style and heavy horn-rimmed glasses.”)
The other chick is “…1.68 m (slightly shorter than me), skinny, with long wavy hair (most probably tied at the back). Respectively I imagine an emaciated girl with hair like black dandelion. I automatically put a pair of heavy horn-rimmed glasses on her too.
I really, really don’t feel like going to this thing.
I go out in the street and head for Bilkova. I turn round the corner and at that point I spot Kiro in front of the bar – a guy I know, who’s also a friend of Mum’s[D17] . I go to him and we say ‘Hello’. At the same time a freak of a woman passes by, dressed in some drooping rags, ugly as hell and – with the following type of personality:
“Do you have a smoke?” it asks Kiro. Kiro doesn’t have cigarettes. The creature keeps on asking everyone else around Kiro and finally I take out mine and offer her one. The thing takes the cigarette with a sulk and gets lost without even looking at me.
“What a freak!” I exclaim so that the freak can also hear me. “This one’s character is total crap. I can’t imagine that a woman would behave like that.” At that point I look around and notice two fancy slim chicks walking down the street in the company of some mousy billy goat[D18] .
“That’s real babes!” I add only to Kiro, with respect in my voice.
Weirdly enough the girl’s trajectory turns in my direction. I look at them and they look at me. I smile slightly and they smile in turn. Finally they get to me and the blonder one says:
“Hi, you are Dojh, right?”
“Yep,” I reply. “And you must be Mila and Svetla.”
At that point I realize what a negative effect on my imagination has mentioning the DMI. The two girls are thin indeed, but that makes them look good. Mila truly has short blonde hair, but in her case ‘short’ means it is trimmed in a neat line under the ears, and ‘blonde’ – that it is in darker and lighter blond locks[D19] [D20] . She truly wears glasses, but they’re really fancy and look great on her. And at the place where the white dress ends (somewhere near the heinie) starts a pair of slender, tanned thighs.
Svetla in turn is a shy/bashful creature[D21] with a really long and wavy hair, tied at the back in a way, so that a lock of hair playfully falls on her face. Her clothes are light-colored[D22] and joyful and emphasize her tall slender[D23] figure.
I won’t spend time describing the guy as his role in this story is precisely naught. At around 10 PM that same night he leaves and disappears from my life forever.
“Do you want to go to Balley Club?” Mila suggests and I readily agree as the place is nice and is just across the street.
We take a seat. We throw in a line or two while we wait for our order. The situation is tense and artificial[D24] – the conversation is definitely going nowhere. 5 or 10 minutes pass like that. Finally I get fed up and say:
“I’ve noticed that usually at such IRC meetings, as opposed to IRC, the conversation is dragging and it seems people have nothing to say to each other, while online you can’t shut them up. I think that at the moment this is the case[D25] . Unfortunately for me, this will be another failure in that area[D26] .”
The girls took it personally. They pulled up their sleeves and… well they [B27] started chatting and in about 20 minutes we were all relaxed, telling insane stories from the department[B28] (Mum and me had survived two years in DMI[B29] ). The time until 10 PM went by [B30] very pleasantly[B31] and quickly. After that we had to get up.[B32]
Silence fell around the table.
“I have a suggestion,” I started, led by a sudden impulse[B33] . “As I really don’t want to go home[B34] , let’s get a bottle of red and go drink at Baba Yaga.
I was talking and at the same time was looking at the two dressed up girls (I had a semi-formal attire too – black jeans, black jacket and a white shirt underneath – but at least I had no concern over the black jeans and was ready to sit at any type of curbs and lawns) and was thinking, how inadequate was to offer THEM to lie around[B35] the ground in their bright clothing. But, woe and behold, Mila looked at Svetla and said:
“I like the idea a lot, what do you think[B36] ?”
Svetla, who had been acting weird all evening – somewhat playfully, somewhat passively – again muttered something which could be interpreted as an agreement.[B37]
‘Well, yeah, but what are we to do with you and those clothes?’ I inquired. ‘We usually sit at the stones around the lake and it’s pretty dirty.’
‘You think that since I’m wearing a dress, I can’t sit on the ground?’ Mila replied. ‘If I was so particular about keeping my clothes, it would have been better not to wear them at all!’
Svetla expressed her agreement through silence. When I come to think about it now, she must have been in a really weird state – just before leaving. A person blocks/freezes up, trying to assimilate the fact that on the next day they will be somewhere far away, at another place, with other people, and the return ticket costs $200-$300 plus an enormous amount of effort spent in vain…
We paid the bill, went out of Balley Club and I suggested we go through the office first. We went upstairs and found Groove, Tato, He, whose Name is not now Spoken, and Corny (Зрънчо).
‘Wine?’ I threw the idea in the air. It was caught before it fell on the ground. So when we headed for Baba Yaga we were already 6 people and One, whose Name is not now Spoken (i.e. around 7 creatures) (*It’s not right to create a circle of mysticism around He, whose Name is not now Spoken, so I will venture a couple of words about him: a rarely unpleasant, slimy, retarded piece of a faggot with checkered pants and shaved ass.) Amidst the scented summer air, under the warm starry sky, on the soft grass and the company of a few wine bottles … the evening went by in a flash неусетно. I was flirting with Svetla (…Mila was married…) and felt great. We spent two more hours together, after which the chicks decided to leave (Svetla had a flight to catch the next morning). Everyone dispersed and I decided to walk the girls to Eagle’s Bridge.
We found two benches facing each other and Mila and Svetla sat on the back-rests??  облегалките. I was standing – didn’t feel like sitting down.
‘Are you in a hurry?’ I asked.
‘Not particularly’ Mila replied. ‘But we need to go some time.’
We went on chattering – and I was definitely pointing my attention towards Svetla more and more. I don’t remember how long we had stood there. Finally my secret idea that Svetla would invite me home for the night died and we separated.
Pleasantly intoxicated I went back to the office, folded myself on one of the couches and fell asleep. The Blue Bird was going to have to wait until the next morning when I was going to be sober enough to take her home.
December 2000.
What are the follow-ups to the story up to here.
A lot of innocent meetings with Mila for coffee or beer and 134 e-mails for 5 months. But Mila is married! Nooo, there’s nothing between us, we’re just friends. Well, ok, but do you like her. Well, I do! But does she like you?
‘Look, if she’s married I’m gonna have to pass.
‘Ok, Denushko, don’t get all nervous, I’m just asking’ Mimi is cooing, cause I’ve obviously bristled up.
‘Do you see her often?’
‘Well, occasionally.’
‘When did you see her last?’
Mimi, Mimi, if you weren’t like a sister to me, I would have never let you question me like that.
‘So you are seeing each other.’ – she concluded.
‘Well, yeah.’
‘What does her husband think about it?’
‘I’ve no idea what her husband thinks. I don’t know the guy and I don’t intend to meet him’
‘Alright, alright.’
Mimi asks the good questions actually, even if I play dumb. I’m not that much of an angel at all…
A bit back in time, 8th-9th of November 2000. Snapshot from a few exchanged angelic writings.
<Rogger Dojh> ... Mila, you specifically are one of the people, at whom I can hardly get really mad. Since I’ve permanently assigned you to the group of my female friends (i.e. with whom there will be no hitting it off and whom I believe will never play me off), I don’t expect anything from you so there is no moment/element of disappointment...
<Мила> ... About the group of female friends (he-he, that sounds a bit comical/funny as an expression :P) – I am very proud and pleased :))…
<Rogger Dojh> ... P.S. Don’t make any assumptions; if you weren’t married there wouldn’t have been any group of female friends for you :))) ...
<Мила> ... Hey, watch it ­ I’ll pretend I didn’t read that last one :P
<Мила> :))) ...
And here is how the translation of this conversation reads:
<Rogger Dojh> ... Mila, I am (fucking) pissed but at the moment I’m trying to play it cool, so you will never find out about it. And since I’ve permanently assigned you to the group of my female friends, expect us to hit it off any moment ...
<Мила> ... About the group of female friends (he-he, that sounds a bit comical/funny as an expression :P) – I am very proud and pleased (hmm, if you’re being serious, you are a real faggot but I don’t believe you anyway. Hey, are you serious – just friends…? As far as I remember you had suggested something about getting drunk together…)
<Rogger Dojh> ... P.S. Don’t make any assumptions; the fact that you are married is of no importance, and there are no female friends. I’m just talking like that so that it sounds more challenging/provocative :)))
<Мила>  ... Hey, watch it ­ I’ll pretend I didn’t read that last one :P
<Мила> Or at least I am supposed to say that, and actually… WHEN ARE WE GOING TO SEE EACH OTHER AGAIN? …
This is how Mila and I wrote to each other and played it dumb. And in the meantime…
... The truth came out at one cold and snowless December night.
That wretched/cursed Veliko Turnovo – as if it was making fun of me. How did it happen that Mila just like Nelly was born in that town, even graduated from the same high school? And her husband? Following Muriel’s footsteps he was also raised in that famous town. And, to stay close to tradition, he went there occasionally leaving his wife to graze/browse freely…
The idea to watch a movie at their place in Studgard was Mila’s
That same day, a bit earlier.
‘Ooo, Dojh, what’s up; you haven’t called lately?’ Twin Ivo’s voice drooled out of the receiver.
‘Nothing much, same old shit. Why, what are you up to?’
‘My brother is trying to reproduce some bug. And I’m writing the tool for the chart.’
‘Aah’ I politely demonstrate the minimal interest that good manners oblige me to show.
‘What are you doing tonight?’ Ivo inquires.
‘I’m going out. Why, you got anything in mind?’
‘We’re going clubbing and we’ll get thrashed!’ the Twin says and laughs happily over the fact that he is going to do the same he’s been doing every other day for a year now ‘Come with us!’
‘Well, I can’t.’
‘Come on, don’t be such a party pooper, it’ll be fun!’
‘No dude, I’m going out too.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘A friend of mine has invited me to watch a movie at her place.’
‘Ahaaaaa!’ Twin Ivo’s curiosity is woken right away ‘Who are you going to be with?’
‘Well, we’ll be alone.’
‘Is it that married girl?’
‘Mila’ I clarify ‘Yep.’
‘And where will her husband be?’
‘In Turnovo.’
‘Duuude, I don’t know you if you don’t score tonight!’
‘Are you insane? With a married chick? There is nothing of the sort going on, we’ll just watch a movie and that’s it.
‘Are you insane; this is a chance you can’t miss!’
‘No, I’m not insane – this is why I don’t intend on doing anything stupid.’
‘Don’t be a jackass, duuude, to invite you alone at their place in the evening!’
‘Look, I’m telling you, I don’t intend to do anything about it.’
‘Honestly, you are a total idiot if …’
‘Ivoooo!’ I really don’t want to listen to him. My brain is looking for a way to stop his pro-sexual promotion. ‘Where will you be?’
‘The meeting is in Bilka and I don’t really know where we’ll go to next. Maybe at the Lemon.’
‘Aha. Well, k then – say hi to your brother and I gotta drop, cause I need to go out.’
‘OK, bye and have a good time’ these are his words. His intonation is actually saying something else (‘I know what you’re up to, she adds, I know you.’) And me, being the naïve soul that I am, believe what I’m saying ... No sex, kein Sex, мы только друзья ...
Date: December 28th 2000
Time: some time after 9:00 pm
Place: the market in Studgard
‘What are we going to get’ Mila asks while we are walking from her place to the 24 hour store to buy some things.
‘Well, I don’t know. I need to get home after that. I won’t have money for a cab if I drink.’
And God, I need a drink; I’m dying for some red wine. The circumstances are definitely not in my favor/on my side.
‘If you want to we can get wine and I’ll give you cash for a cab.’
‘Yeah right, but I’ll have to give it back later on. Either I’m going home with the car, or not going home at all.’
We’re getting closer to the store.
‘Actually, do you have room to put me up for the night?’
‘There’s only one bed upstairs. But I definitely don’t intend us to push each other around on it all night.’
I don’t intend that too. But I want a drink.
‘Look, let’s get the wine and we’ll improvise later.’
‘Come on.’
Why did I let Mila choose the wine? One of my weird features is that I always buy good wine. If I like a bottle, then it’s a guarantee.
But in this case she made the choice and when after 15 minutes we were again at her place it turned out that the wine was sour. So we went and bought another bottle.
Each of us picked one movie – Mila insisted on Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and I requested Devil’s Advocate. Three lit scented candles appeared on the table, some plates with treats materialized on the floor (we both really loved drinking sitting on the ground), we sat down around them, the wine sloshed in the glasses…
We turned on the VCR.
Hmm. We should have taken Sex, Lies and Video???. But how were we to know beforehand where it all would go to?
Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels. The film was interesting but somehow too original. So original that even after the end I hadn’t figured out what it was about; neither who the good guys were, nor who the bad guys were. Anyways, that didn’t really matter anyway.
Devil’s Advocate. We were both watching it for the second time. Till the end Mila has already crawled up in the bed, dizzy and softened by the alcohol and the late time. I was still sitting on the ground – watching the movie and keeping quiet.
The last credits disappeared, something in the VCR clicked, hissed and then … silence.
‘Are you going to sit down there?’ Mila asked me.
‘Well…’ I said and ascended on the bed. I sat in the place of the pillow. The girl was lying on her back, alongside the bed, with her legs slightly bent at the knees. The pillow was actually under her head.
The pillows were the thing that broke the glass wall, which kept us on different sides and made us behave like exemplary puritans. I don’t remember who started the war but after just a little bit we were both in the middle of a fierce pillow fight.
Бой! Бой! We were laughing like freaks and hitting (млатехме) each other will full strength. But there isn’t all that much space on a single bed so there’s no way you could swing the pillow without almost falling over the other person… You’re bumping into her, but she’s gone wild and pulls back, then pushes back; oops, that one was right in the face! Great shot, now you have to pay for it!...
The truce was my initiative; obviously I had less energy to burn than Mila. After a couple of more outbursts we left the pillows alone and this time I offered my services to take their place.
‘This feels really good’ Mila said to me a couple of minutes later. ‘Here with you.’ She lifted herself up, reached out and put on some music – Alanis Morisette. Then she lay back again. I reached out my hand and found hers. She caught it.
‘I’m saying things that I shouldn’t be saying. But I feel so calm with you. And I feel good.’
I must have replied something but I don’t remember. I lay next to the girl and tucked my arm under her neck. She got moved around to get more comfortable and turned facing me. Her head was on my shoulder. I suppose I stated my mind about the romantic atmosphere of the evening – it really was great – warm, cozy, alcoholic, with the scent of the woman next to you … And Mila is no regular woman …
If she had listened to my pulse at that point she would have figured out how insanely the situation affected me – my heart was beating very, very fast.
We were talking quietly and … well… we kissed.
From there on things got out of anybody’s control. A brief thought hopped like a dear through my mind: the Twins, those sleazy, decadent bastards; how did they guess what was going to happen … Well, God bless ‘em. So much with the thoughts.
Late at night. We are lying naked and Mila startles.
‘God, what am I doing?!’ she says. She rolls to the side and stays like that with her back to me. I’m watching the ceiling in the darkness.
‘We both want what is happening.’ I answer. I am not in the mood for games. Not for that kind anyway. Mila senses it in my intonation and she herself is not a fan of theatrical performances.
‘Just wait for a minute.’ She says. ‘I’ll be fine. This concerns me, not you.’
I keep quiet. Mila is reflecting on the moment. It’s really complicated. Her husband is her first and only man. They’ve been together for 10 years, though they’ve been married for only 2. the bed beneath us is the bed they sleep together on every night. This is their place. And this beside her is me – a kind of an incubus coming from some unknown seductive circle of Hell…
Her hesitation does not last long. Mila turns to me and decisively sticks her tongue into my mouth. I don’t require any more invitations …
… It’s 6 in the morning.
‘No more sex after 7 am.’ Mila says.
‘Alright.’ I agree with a smile.
‘Absolutely none.’
‘No sex.’ I confirm. I’m hopelessly happy – I’m high on sleep hormones; the last traces of intoxication are caressing, and singing soft incantations to my conscious; my body is sending pleasure signals to my head which responds with the same … My perceptions are concentrated on this moment, the focus is perfect and all unnecessary concerns and everyday problems are deep in the mud and nobody wants to know about them.
‘I am not sorry about what happened at all. What about you?’ Mila asks me.
‘Me neither. I cannot feel sorry about a night like this.’
‘Despite all the problems it will cause me, I am not sorry.’
‘You shouldn’t give a damn. We both needed this.’
In the twilight we chat quietly and wait for the morning.
The morning welcomes us with snow and coffee at a nearby café. There are university students around, crawling out of their dormitory holes; some of them are watching us but nobody gives a shit. At 24 I feel exactly like a teenager; Mila is co-starring brilliantly: we can’t get our eyes off each other and are holding hands, despite the fact that there is a table between us. We barely speak – we are too tired. Even without communicating verbally, we’re as happy as two full kittens.
This is how December 29th, 2000 starts.
The first snow was flying chaotically around the morning Sofia air. Sitting warm in the Blue Bird, Mila and I were driving along Vitoshka and watched the grey world around us trying to get whiter. Mila was going to look for New Year’s presents (hmm, I think it was a shirt for her husband), and I – well, I was just driving her around, I had no urgent business; it was the holidays after all …
‘I was really surprised to see Death Is a Lonely Business at your place.’ I said while we were waiting for the cars that had backed up the whole street to move a few meters forward. I rarely meet somebody that has read it. Actually, the only person I know of is my dad.’
I was talking about a Ray Bradbury book that I had dug up from her library earlier that morning, while I was waiting for her to get dressed and perform all her rituals before going out.
‘I read it when I was very young and liked it very much. Now I’ll probably read it again.’
‘I had started it’ I went to first gear and moved along with the whole line ‘but I never finished it. I remember that the title and the cover had made quite an impression on me.’
‘I’ve completely forgotten what it’s about.’
‘Me too. I should have stolen it from you.’
‘After new years, when I’m back from Turnovo, I’ll give it to you.’
At that point we stopped for the n-th time. Mila looked around and said.
‘Well, I’ll get off here.’
‘Alright’ I smiled at her ‘Enjoy your holidays!’
‘You too. I hope you have a really good time.’
We gave each other a loving look, then a loving kiss and Mila left the Blue Bird with an emphasized impulsiveness. I locked the door behind her, lay back into the car seat and turned into the first block, to make a circle and head home.
Date: December 31st, 2000. – New Year’s Eve.
Time: some time around 11:59 pm.
Place: Druzhba 1, Mum and Milady’s place.
TV on, table full of food. Mum was standing at the window holding a bottle of champagne, I had lit a bangle fire ???, soc made; Milady … well, she was holding her glass, awaiting Godo (i.e. the champagne). For now this was the whole crew – Mum, Milady and me. That’s how we were going to see the new millennium in.
New Year’s Sofia was banging and booming, fireworks and пиратки were flying around like it was the last day on earth, and amidst all this noise the champagne popped very quietly.
The national anthem followed, then the President’s speech.
… Soon the alcohol had made me seriously dizzy, I couldn’t stay in one place around the table so I started walking around the room, glass in hand.
‘Dojh, why don’t you sit down?’ Milady asked, following the rule that it is better to talk with your 2 meters tall friends when they are situated in a chair.
‘I don’t want to sit.’ I replied. I was pretty nervous. Not nervous! I was really in love and all types of emotions didn’t give me a moment of peace.
‘He seems restless/unsettled’ Mum said to Milady. He did it to provoke me. And he succeeded – I needed to talk about what had happened to me, although I wasn’t feeling particularly chatty at that moment.
I was doing rounds in front of the table and half-muttered some things. I was at Mila’s. When was that? The other day. And were you alone?? Yes. Maaan, and when did you leave? In the morning. Ouch, and what did you do? We watched Devil’s Advocate, what a cool movie, and I didn’t particularly like Lock, Stock, even if it’s one of Mila’s favorite movies… Did you drink? Sure we did. What? Red wine. And there were some candles probably … Yep, there were. Romantic, Milady stated. And then what? What – nothing. Well, ok but where did you sleep there? Well, there was just one bed there, so we both slept on it. And? Nothing. Ok dude, if it was nothing you wouldn’t be so emotional about it. Did you kiss? Yep. So you did hit it off. I guess so. And what did you do all night then? Well, nothing. Did you SLEEP together??? Mum asks totally frustrated already. Hmm… yeah.
Mum and Milady looked at each other. God, until they manage to get something out of me …
‘The way you’re telling it, I can’t really figure out what actually happened.’ Mum изкоментира
‘And why didn’t you bring Mila with you?’ Milady asked me.
‘Because she’s in Turnovo with her husband.’ I answer.
‘A-ha. That explains why you haven’t invited her.’
‘No, I did, but it was pretty clear it won’t happen.’
‘Yep, it’s pretty understandable.’
I was feeling a bit more normal (having shared my troubles with the rest of the world) and time started rolling on with a faster pace. That led to the moment when Ender and a friend of his showed up, supposedly intending to represent Santa and Snow-white (at least there were no other candidates for the parts), but actually looking much more like the two drunken pigs from the fairy tale The Wolf and the Drunken Piglets (* The fairytale about the piglets can be found in the appendix - )
Ender and his buddy came over at 1:30 am, drunk as skunks and equipped with a bottle of Jim Beam which they guzzled down with no respect for the brand. Ender was so sloshed that he managed to fall off his chair. On that account we laughed at him for a long, long time.
So here’s how 2001 started – instead of with one Mila – with two drunken boars.
January 2001.
Winter finally came – snowy and festive. Sofia became pretty for a brief moment. And home it was warm and cozy. The Christmas light were twinkling on one wall, the PC was working quietly …
Date: Saturday, January 6th 2001.
Time: around 5:30 pm.
Place: an apartment in Ivan Vazov.
The phone rang. I reached and picked up the receiver without diverting my attention from the screen.
‘Rogger Dojh’s residence’ I said automatically.
‘Mila!’ my attention instantly dropped the work. ‘Hi! How are you? What’s up?’
I could pick up street sound in the receiver – Mila was calling from outside.
‘Nothing, I went out shopping after work. And how are you?’
‘Working. I just picked up this Internet cards design.’
‘Let’s meet for a bit. I’m at NDK. I want to give you something
I looked at the Christmas lights, puzzled. The twinkled back in response. This meeting proposition was pretty surprising.
‘Well…’ I started, as I had just managed to make myself sit down and work and I didn’t want to interrupt the creative process.
‘Just for a little bit; I have to get home anyway. Or I can drop by your place, if you want to.’
I felt awkward – to make the girl travel all this way, in that cold weather…
‘Where are you right now?’
‘NDK. The phone booths in the subway.’
‘I’ll be at the pylons/piers in 5 minutes.’
‘Ok, I’ll be waiting.’
I screwed the stupid Internet cards, jumped in my pants and shot off with the Blue Bird. At NDK it was full of cars, but just in front of the piers I found some improvised parking spot. I stopped sideways, put on the аварийните светлини and ran to the meeting point.
Mila was turning around restlessly under the flying/hovering snow amidst the people passing by. As soon as she saw me, she smiled uneasily.
‘Hello!’ she said, turning something in her hands at the same time. I looked closely and saw it was Death Is a Lonely Business.
‘While I was walking around I saw it at a bookstall. I was really pleased and I bought it for you!’
‘How much is it?’
‘Nonsense! It’s a gift!’
Mila was acting like a little girl that they put out on a stage for the first time. And she was looking at me really strange.
Actually, there was nothing strange in the whole thing – we were both head over heels like some six graders. But the official story, for now, was that after the other night at her place everything was back to the way it used to be. The presence of a husband made all other regulations impossible.
On the other hand, while I was still controlling myself and at least in front of her made some efforts to appear as I didn’t really care, she obviously didn’t realize how blatantly she was emitting love waves.
When her unconscious messages finally reached my incredibly slow in such cases brain, I suddenly felt really great. The feeling of a woman being so openly in love with you is incredible. And if you’re just as hot for her …
Snowflakes were falling off the grey sky, it was getting dark, and the cars had started to turn on their headlights. People were rushing through the square in front of the piers, passing around us. I has just taken the book from Mila’s hands and was turning it over. Death Is a Lonely Business. The cover had on it a dead fly, under a glass. Man, was this going to become the symbol of the romance between us. It was completely insane and totally my style; obviously it was Mila’s style too. Death Is a Lonely Business. It sounded like a mantra.
‘Thank you!’ I said. I was thanking her not just for the book, but for the fact that she had thought of me; that she paid attention to what we had talked about, and that she wanted to please me. And for the fact that she had managed to.
Mila kept smiling and being quiet. If she had started tugging on her skirt (not that she had one to tug on, but figuratively speaking) and turning her right foot around the tip of her shoe, she would have looked totally natural at that moment. She didn’t.
‘Well…’ she said.
‘We can sit somewhere if you’d like to.’ I interrupted her.
‘No, I really need to go.’
‘Alright then.’
Mila turned around and hurried for the 94 bus stop. I shrugged my shoulders mentally, gave the book I was holding another look, and went to the Blue Bird, which was waiting for me to take me home.
Death Is a Lonely Business.
Date: After a bit more than a week and a lot more dates… January 15th 2001.
Time: somewhere around 7 pm.
Venue: The South park.
Snow. Soft, fluffy snow, that has covered Sofia’s entire nastiness and has turned the cursed city into a fairy tale. The kind of fairy tale that usually includes/incorporates Snow Whites, Snow Queens and rain deer with bells. In this case however, the only ones walking in the South park were a web designer and an actuary (* Актюер ­ човек, който оценява риска; до колкото знам, работи в застрахователния бизнес. ­ Б.а.)
There really wasn’t anyone. The heavy clouds and thick snowfall were reflecting the light from the street lamps, spreading a cover of orange glow everywhere. The air was cold, but a mild kind of cold, as it usually is in such weather.
Already substantially covered with snow, we were treading through and talked about everyday stuff. Actually neither of us cared what we would talk about.
The idea for a snowball fight was Mila’s, as usual. I can’t deny that the girl was pretty playful. Unlike me – I was aware that I’d have to hop like an idiot, roll in the snow, run around and laugh aloud throwing snowballs, when my whole being insisted on a comfortable chair in a warm place with a glass of cognac, for instance.
Mila was so happy about it all that I braced myself and tried to get into the part. (Not that it was that unpleasant. It’s just that I suddenly thought of a bunch of other, much more pleasant things we could do.)
A bit later we were walking back. Freezing, covered in snow, and wet .
‘I am soaked’ I shared.
‘Me too’ Mila noted.
‘Why don’t you come over to warm up. You’ll die if you have to wait for a bus like this and in this weather.’ I lived a 3 minute walk from the park.
‘You know, that’s not such a bad idea.’
At home it was light, warm and cozy. I settled in the spinning chair in front of the computer and without negotiating pulled Mila to sit in my lap. She slightly resisted, but very slightly in fact.
‘We shouldn’t’ she said.
In response I hugged her more tightly, pulled her in and started kissing her.
‘What we’re doing is wrong (Вършим глупости!)’ the girl exclaimed when she could speak again.
‘I don’t really care’ I replied.
She thought for a bit watching my face intensely.
‘Me neither.’
This time she took the initiative.
‘I know that what we are doing is insane, but I cannot stop myself’ Mila went on after a while.
I didn’t answer – I completely agreed with her.
‘It was like that the morning at my place. I couldn’t keep myself away from you.’
‘You can stay here for the night I you want to.’ I suggested innocently.
Mila startled. Probably the idea seemed too appealing to her for her to keep her calm.
‘No, no, I should get home. The situation at home is horrible as it is. If I am late it will become totally unbearable.’
‘Why, what’s going on?’
‘Gesha is behaving really mean. He’s cold and we’re fighting all the time, when we speak at all. And by the way I think he has telepathic abilities. Last night when I came home I found Death is a Lonely Business shredded to pieces all over the room.’
There was nothing I could say. Well, there was but I preferred to stay out of it.
‘I really should go.’
‘Did you warm up?’ I asked with a small hope she’d say no.
‘Yeah. Don’t worry, I’ll get home fine.’
Mila got up and got dressed. At the door we exchanged a long kiss and she ran off to catch a cab. I got back into my lair.
Date: The day after, January 16th, 2001.
Time: Afternoon (after I got/hatched out of bed).
Venue: Outlook Express. (* Това не е фирма за куриерски услуги :P Б. а.)
Note: What happens when the Scorpio gets involved (to clarify, Scorpio is Gesha’s sign, and a TRIPLE Scorpio at that)
Email message
From:   Mila
Sent:    January 16th 2001 10:47
To:       Rogger Dojh
Subject:           No subject ­ a horrible explanation
Even after the first sentence you will get the idea of what this is about, but please read the whole thing. The only thing I don’t want to happen is that you start hating me. I already hate myself enough for the mess I cooked up. And despite the fact that I deserve to be hated by you. I feel terrible. You have to pay for every happy moment, whether it was 1hr or 1 year. (For the record – I was quite happy the last few days, from Christmas on in fact). And every lie is charged/paid for. But I had to pay up too soon. I don’t know how I imagined things could be – no way probably. I just wanted them to work themselves out with time into the right direction (exactly because I don’t know what that direction is). It came too early that I had to make decisions. That’s like comparing your warm house with a fantasy castle under the water, to which you don’t know whether you’ll be able to swim, if you’ll have enough air or if there’ll be a place for you there. Seems I don’t love you enough. Or I’m too much of a coward. An indecisive coward. So when he pressed the issue (damn him, the clever bastard; and I was so happy yesterday, that I said things that I shouldn’t have said – at least not now.) to chose – either discontinue all communication with the evil demon (i.e. you) or he’ll make me sorry I was born (или света ще ми се види черен). Guess what I chose (not just because of the threat). I shouldn’t be making excuses, but I’ll do it anyway. I.e. I will try to tell you where things stand so that you would understand. So that you wouldn’t think that I’m a mean, disoriented hypocritical liar. We negotiated all night. Of course, I can’t just tell him to go and fuck himself; that I’m gonna do whatever I want. (Besides, I didn’t just find him on the street and I didn’t get married because I had to, but because I thought – he’s the one.) And I’m that not good at negotiations either – I offered him a free pass to fuck whomever he wants as long as he doesn’t try to keep track of my emails and meetings with you. He didn’t bite. It seemed like he almost agreed, but he’s not that stupid. The offer was a direct demo on how much I care about my relationship with you.
I haven’t slept and am pretty confused… but I don’t want you to write to me anymore and I don’t want us to see each other. Not that I don’t want to, we just shouldn’t. And I don’t want to lie anymore. But when I said that you’re the coolest person I know, I wasn’t pretending, so when I say I Don’t want to, I don’t specifically mean I don’t want to. I don’t want you to write me but you can send me those cartoons/images you’re making. I don’t want us to see each other except when Gesha is in VT. (Here you SHOULD NOT agree. That wouldn’t make sense.)
Find yourself a nice smart woman that is good in bed. Forget about everything that was and that could have been. Stuff we said and stuff we could have said. Whomever you find I’ll probably think she doesn’t deserve you. On the other hand you could find someone that deserves you. You’re not that perfect :P
If you want to, if you don’t hate me, and if you think you can stand me being all whimpering and slimy, call me so I can tell you all of this f2f. But that would really be our last such meeting. I don’t want to go on lying.
The decision is the following – no mails, no dates. And it’s final.
I’m keeping my fingers crossed for the deal today. You have to get it. You have to convince Stefan Ivanov to accept you prices and conditions. At least one of us needs to succeed with the negotiations.
And I hope you keep some good memories, despite the whole mess that I managed to create/stir up.
End of message
To be honest, I could tell what the letter would be about from the first three words. The more I read along, the angrier I became. When I got to the passage ‘I want – I don’t want (this is the right thing)” I was furious. The romantic fantasies about the Woman that deserves me, caused a rage attack, and the mentioning of the Good memories, sent me into a state of silent resentment (злоба).
Well, as a background process somewhere in my brain something was registering very subtle signals that carried a whole different message. But there was no way I could be sure. And I really didn’t want to think in that direction.
So I just swallowed, took a deep breath, clenched my teeth (стиснах зъби) and took to the work that was waiting for me.
In the next two days I got three more mails from Mila. Attached to them was a date – a result from the sentence “If you want to, if you don’t hate me, and if you think you can stand me being all whimpering and slimy, call me so I can tell you all of this f2f.”
I wanted to.
Most likely things hadn’t really improved for her at home, after the negotiations with her husband. In the letters and when we met she did everything possible to smooth things out. As she had formulated in the last email from the series, “…We didn’t separate on very good terms yesterday. I won’t try to analyze, etc. etc., cause I’ll mess things up again :P What I didn’t tell you straight yesterday is that I want to undo my last three mails, as much as that’s possible. ( I am 100% sure it can’t, the record in the registry is there and cannot be cleaned so easily)”.
Though she didn’t realize it, Mila had no problems with the undo function. True, I was pretty pissed at her for the bullshit she wrote but on the other hand I could imagine very well what she was going through… Not to mention that after the Bitch in white similar dramatic turns to me were like saying ‘Hi’…
After a short meeting at a café near her work, in one of the following evenings, I got back to my place and the girl went home to her husband. I logged on to the dial up net and started working on the site I was developing at the time. Along with that I was chatting a little bit. Time was passing by, it was 11, then 12… then my pager started vibrating dismally on the table and peeping hysterically.
“PLEASE LOG OFF THE INTERNET. Mila”, the message read.
Wahh. I looked at my watch once again, just in case. Yes, it was indeed past midnight. Mila did not have a phone at home, so what was she doing out at this time?
I dropped and after less than a minute the phone rang.
‘Rogger Dojh here’ I spoke into the receiver.
‘Hi’ Mila said. ‘Do you want to meet and go for a drink somewhere?’
She sounded bad. She was in a lousy state – quite upset actually. Without asking about any details, I replied:
‘Yes, where are you now?’
‘In Student town. In front of the J’N’B.’
‘Where should I pick you up from?’
‘I’ll wait here.’
‘Nonsense, go somewhere warm. Just tell me where you’ll be.’
‘No, no, come here. I’ll wait for you.’
‘Ok, I’ll be there ASAP.’
The Blue Bird was surprised to see me – I didn’t go out much in the evening at the time – but finally managed to start on propane despite the freezing cold and I rushed it to Student town.
Mila was a lonely, lost figure in the midst of the big parking lot. As soon as she saw the car she started walking toward me. I stopped next to her and got off the car.
‘Hi’ I said ‘how are you?’
After that I hurried to hug her, as the question was stupid and the answer was obvious.
‘What happened?’
‘I got kicked out of the house. Doesn’t matter. Let’s go somewhere.’
I opened the door for her and she got into the Blue Bird. Then she reached out and opened the door on my side. That made me so happy – she had remembered the stuff I had told her about the Bottom Test and she always thought of that.
‘Where to?’ I asked when I got in.
‘Remember, I had told you about this tavern close by. They cook really well.’
‘Ok, let’s go.’
We drove to the tavern, I parked in the front of and we got in. The place really was pleasant. They had tried to create the authentic atmosphere of an old Bulgarian tavern and in certain respects they had succeeded. Besides that there was a trickling fountain/waterworks with rocks.
We settled in close to the water. We order some mean giant шашлъци and started talking. I picked up a totally random issue, trying to take her mind off the troubles that had come upon her. But either way we got to them at some point.
In short – after another family fight with an insignificant cause, a clear reason and big accusations; her husband had told her to get the hell out and she had left.
We ate till we were full as pigs, had a beer and got up to leave.
We were already sitting in the car; I leaned back and turned my head to her.
‘I’ll drive you home.’
‘I don’t really feel like going back. On the other hand, I have nowhere else to go.’
‘Come to my place, if you want to. I would love you to. We can get a bottle of wine for there.’
(Cause of the Blue Bird I hadn’t had a drink in the tavern. Mila didn’t drink out of empathy, and we both really wanted a drink.)
Mila went silent while she was thinking over the offer.
‘It wouldn’t be inconvenient, would it?’
‘No, it wouldn’t. Don’t worry at all.’
‘What about your folks?’
‘They’re sleeping. And my room is my own territory which no one trespasses on.’
‘To my place?’
‘To your place.’
It turned out that every one of the next 5 night Mila came back to my place.
In 3 days Mila started feeling the inconvenience of not sleeping at home – she was missing a bunch of everyday things like hair dryer, clean underwear, socks, etc. On the other hand her husband had told her not to go anywhere near the apartment when he’s at home. That was usually after work hours, when Mila is free as well. Quite frustrating.
So at one point in time the girl came up with the idea to bring over the most necessary things at home.
How it turned out that I gave her a ride, I don’t remember anymore. I guess that not enough time had passed from the Bitch in White story, so the lessons had still not settled in my brain completely. Otherwise I can’t see how I could have let myself be involved in such insanity.
I parked the Blue Bird on the side of the building where they lived. Mila, quire nervous, got off the car and headed to a street phone and I stayed in the car to wait for her.
From the street phone she called her husband’s cell phone, cause he had recently also forbidden her to go into the apartment without his permission. After the conversation Mila disappeared somewhere; she came back a bit later escorted by Gesha. Damn, I’ve always hated the encounters of the third kind.
After they both got into the building, I stayed in the car for a little longer. I couldn’t stand to sit in one place anymore, so I got out of the Blue Bird. It was really cold outside but at that time it didn’t seem to bother me. I walked around then I saw a booth where they were selling Camel.
I bought a pack. Fuck the fact that I’m trying to stop smoking. This wasn’t the right time to demonstrate strong will.
I lit one. The cigarettes where good – they weren’t original, but at least they were an imported imitation.
I puffed/pulled a few times in the open air with distinct pleasure. After that the piercing cold forced me to go back into the car. I started the engine and turned on the heating to the max. That was much better. I was smoking and watching the activity in front of Mila’s entrance. It looked like some weird silent moved.
After about ten minutes Mila walked out. That was the way things were supposed to go and I was looking forward to it. But her husband was walking after her. That was unexpected. And I didn’t like it one bit.
Mila came up to the car, opened the door and threw the bag on the back seat. Gesha stood in front of the car and stared at me. He was smoking too. We were all pretty aggravated/nervous/frustrated.
As we were staring at each other, I decided that the situation was pretty funny. What was he frowning for, when his wife was getting into my car so I can drive her to my place? As much as I tried to suppress the smile creeping to my lips, I couldn’t.
Gesha spread his arms questioningly – what are you laughing for?
I shrugged – I don’t know; you tell me – why are you so ridiculous?
After that silent conversation, Mila had already settled in, so I reared and got out of the parking. I headed home and left the zone for encounters of the third kind far behind me.
‘That was pretty lame.’ I said while we were driving through the streets of Student town.
‘I know’ Mila replied. ‘I’m sorry. He wasn’t supposed to come down with me but there was no way to stop him.’
‘Anyways. I would ask you for such things not to happen anymore.’
‘They won’t. I promise.’
The kid was genuinely sad about what had happened. Me too. I sighed in my head, hummed a tune silently, settled more comfortably in the seat and directed my entire attention to the road. Sometimes it is so pleasant to drive through the overcrowded Sofia… compared to/in the background of all other problems…
Mila felt good at my place. Or at least as good as the awfully tense situation allowed her to – separated from her husband, in a strange apartment… As I was completely aware of what was happening to us, I had decided that if she left Gesha for good, no matter how our relationship would develop, I wouldn’t dump her under any circumstances. We even started making plans to get a place together somewhere close.
And I really wanted this to happen – that she would get divorced that is – and my behavior was based on some distinctly selfish reasons.
Her husband was a real snake – harassing her psychologically and didn’t really feel bad about demonstrating physical supremacy (over her). He was treating her like a serf to a certain extent – she was cooking for him, washing his clothes, cleaning his house, the primary income came from her… The car he was driving was also maintained with her money… To an extent all of that calmed my moral guilt for being involved in breaking up such a family relationship.
Above all, I was head over heels in love and my final goal was to get/nail Mila permanently. I was acting on it will all methods known to me.
For the five days that Mila lived at home we were pretty much living as a married couple. We went everywhere together; at night we went out, then got home to sleep, and on the next morning each one got to their own responsibilities. I drove her to work and picked her up from there.
One of the days we went to visit Mum and Milady. The effect wasn’t the expected one. I had thought that Mila will fit right into our group, but she didn’t get her eyes off of me the whole time and hardly said anything. This made it hard for her to fit anywhere. Finally when at the end of the evening there was a need for some math problems to be solved, she helped Mum out as she was most qualified of all the people in the room.
The fifth day went away. I still didn’t know that it would be our last night together. I presume that Mila didn’t know that either. Her birthday was on the next day and our main task was to figure out how we would celebrate it. We had dinner at home, watched some TV and went to bed. I set my pager to wake me up at 7 am and we went to sleep.
Date: Mila’s birthday, January 23rd, 2001.
Time: 7am
Venue: an apartment in Ivan Vazov
The pager beeped antagonizingly. I got out of my restless sleep and hurried to turn of the squeaking thing before it woke up Mila. She moved around a bit next to me but went on sleeping. I got out of bed carefully, got out of bed and went looking for my dad in the next room.
He was also up; for work.
‘Morning’ I said.
‘Good morning early bird’ he replied. Indeed I had got up around 8 hours earlier than the usual.
‘Can I borrow 10 leva?’ I went straight to the point. That’s one of the advantages when I communicate with my father – I don’t need to make diplomatic tricks. He himself is brutally blunt, but that only allows me to act the same way without worrying about the consequences.
’10 leva?’ he asked with a note of suspicion. Usually, every additional financing on top of the contracted monthly allowance, was unwanted/not recommended. And besides, I was working.
‘It’s Mila’s birthday. I want to buy something more special for breakfast.’
‘Get me my wallet.’
Besides the juice, nuts and croissants, I found some really gorgeous scented candles. They were 6 leva a pop but as soon as I saw them I knew I had to buy one. I got a yellow one – it smelled great (to this day it smells like sex and romantic nights to me, but that’s understandable…)
I put the breakfast in front of the PC screen (which, for functional reasons was put right next to my bed), I covered it so that it doesn’t get dust onto it and lit the candle. I also turned on the blinking Christmas lights on the wall.
I woke the girl up, when the time came for her to get to work. Mila opened her eyes with difficulty and looked around disoriented.
‘Happy birthday!’ I said and I kissed her. She smiled, but I had the sensation that more than half of her conscious was somewhere else at the moment. She was really sleepy.
‘Thanks’ she said with a faint voice.
‘That’s for you’ I pointed at the candle and breakfast. She didn’t pay attention; seems that she didn’t realize there was food under the cover. That’s why when she started getting dressed a bit later and I offered her to have breakfast together before she left, she was really surprised.
We were on the way to her work and we were talking, settled in the Blue Bird. The girl mentioned her husband and I asked her to keep him out of the conversation – at least not now. I was really tired, actually the exact phrase is – I was dying for sleep and felt cranky… Well, we were both extremely inadequate.
I dropped her in front of her office and got home. I threw myself on my sweet родното bed among the scent of the candle and Mila’s perfume on the sheets and fell asleep blissfully.
Around 11 the phone rang.
I picked it up instantaneously, before I had even managed to open my eyes.
‘Hi’ Mila said.
I woke/sobered up right away. Her tone sounded really weird.
‘Hey. What’s up/wrong?’
‘Can you come by the office?’
‘Sure. I’m coming.’
I jumped in my pants and together with the Blue Bird we headed through town, full throttle.
I climbed the stairs to the office, rang the bell just in case and went in. Mila met me in the hallway.
‘Come outside’ she said and we went out to the staircase.
‘Did you see the flowers?’
‘What flowers?’
She used her hands to show me the size of the bouquet– very big.
‘On my desk, right next to the computer.’
‘Gesha had sent it to me this morning. Look’ – and she shoved a picture in my hands.
The picture was cut out; it was of Mila and Gesha on their wedding day.
‘Turn it around.’
There was a message on the back. I don’t remember the whole thing, but the overall content was: Although you are such a wild bitch, I’m ready to take you back and actually today is your last chance; if you don’t come home tonight – it’s over. The word bitch was really there. It had made a strong impression on me. I was even more surprised at the words Mila used to answer my questioning look:
‘I decided to go home tonight.’
I was quiet for a while looking at the soapy artifact in my hands. After that I handed it back to her.
‘Fine. It’s up to you’ I said.
Mila didn’t expect that.
‘Try to understand…’ she started as if I had resisted in some way. But I hadn’t. I felt really lousy, but it was all the same. Let her deal with this – I draw the line here.
‘It’s ok. I’m gonna run.’
‘I’ll see you to your car.’
I sat inside, Mila – as well. We stood silent for a while.
‘I guess there is nothing more to say.’
‘Well, no. There isn’t’
‘Then it’s probably best if I go back to work.’
After she had gone I stayed there at least 10 more minutes. I wanted her to come back. But she didn’t. Finally I started the engine and got myself to my good old room, which had no intention to decide and go back to somebody else. It was mine, the damn thing гадината. Fuck. Everything I had wished and planned for in the last few days went straight into the bucket of shit and sank, bubbling.
That night I didn’t go anywhere – I stayed at home and at 8 pm I was already in bed, covered under the sheets, isolated from the whole disgusting world. Everything and everyone made me want to barf and I didn’t want to have anything to do with them.
At some point I got up to browse around my PC – I couldn’t fall asleep. Even in front of the PC I didn’t do anything, I just sat there. I was staring stupidly at the screen. That was my activity/that’s what I was doing.
The door opened.
My dad came in.
‘We need to talk.’
‘Some other time’ I said.
‘No, it won’t be some other time. Three things. First you need to decide what you are going to do about school. You had told me you intended to go to the classes, but you’ve let that go completely…’
‘Please, leave me alone’ I interrupted. I didn’t give a damn about what he was saying. Fuck school. Fuck everything else too.
‘I will not leave you alone!’ my father raised his voice. I must admit he had an extraordinary gift – to pick the worst moments ever to lecture me. There was no one better than him in that respect. The most perfect tool for measuring peak points from the shitospectrum was in his head. Numero fucking uno. ‘You’re really good in making promises, but you’re even better in not keeping them.’
‘Dad’ I also raised the volume ‘Stop it!’
‘Don’t tell me to stop, cause…’
‘NO, I CAN’T GET OUT CAUSE YOU’VE LET YOURSELF GO AND I’M GIVING MY MONEY SO THAT YOU CAN STUDY AND…’ here my dad went on with stuff I didn’t listen to. I went into ‘cat’ mode – just waiting without reacting. Brrrmmmmm, brrrrmmmm…
Incredibly frustrated, my father finally went out of the room. He had finished his speech pretty hurtfully. I put/relaxed my head back. Damn it. Who cares…
I cared. Actually I heard what he had said. I was very offended. So offended, that if there was somewhere I could go I would have moved. There wasn’t. I stayed there. But I refused to accept money and food from my parents. I went to bed hungry. I didn’t have an appetite anyway.
The next day was unpleasant. My work engagements and meetings with clients took my mind off things temporarily but I hadn’t slept well, and I hadn’t had much of a breakfast (some crappy sandwich from a questionable food stand) …
And all of that in the background of the missing Mila.
We still exchanged a couple of emails. For instance:
From:   Rogger Dojh
To:       Mila
Искам да заплача от безсилна ярост
и от самота
Искам да заплача от любов
и съм полудял
но съм във желанието си окован
безмълвно устни съм прехапал
и мълча
С копнеж изпълнен е деня
Адска и отчаяна ­ нощта
И всичко е напразно
не остана в мен душа
всичко беше само гавра
ти не беше тя.
Just don’t send me a blubbersome email in reply.
There is nothing more you can say to me.
And there are some of your clothes and underwear around the place. I’d rather you pick ‘em up yourself.
From:   Mila
To:       Rogger Dojh
'На любов като на война'. You fight for whatever you want to be yours. You had a choice – you had to say ‘stop’, ‘stay’, ‘I want’. I couldn’t give you a hint. Why did you leave the choice to me? Next time fight, my friend – if you think the other person is worth it. Cause it’s going to be about your life too. And it shouldn’t be decided by somebody else. I had told you that love is a deal, and you didn’t believe me… Perhaps you still don’t believe.
And btw, I really am not ‘Her’ – for no one. I’m nobody’s woman anymore…
When will it be a good time for me to come pick up my things? Write or call, you know where I am. It depends on you.
There really isn’t anything else I can say.
From:   Rogger Dojh
To:       Mila
When was it that I wanted you to be MINE? I wanted us to be together, cause we both want it. I don’t wish for my life to become a struggle to keep you with me. I did enough to change my personality for you anyway. (*Well, I mean that for the first time in my life I had made compromises… and that’s a lot.) If even after this you are willing to back off – the choice is yours. And think about it. If love is a deal, a contract, then besides rights you acquire responsibilities. One of those responsibilities is not to subject the other to the type of torture you so generously applied on me yesterday. Also to be on their side. Otherwise you break the deal. There is no struggle in deals, except for in the court room. Think about it a little.
I have no idea what happened yesterday but stay if you want to. In spite of all principles I am willing to accept you even now. But don’t expect to be tied up with my choice. In this case the choice should be yours.
Maybe all these explanations sound weird, considering the past events. But our relationship was pretty serious. Some of the events changed the factual state of things, but nothing had influenced the thing that connected us/brought us together the most – our friendship. The truth was that we got along so well. It was impossible to just suddenly stop communicating.
Our correspondence went on in the same fashion. There were a few playful tones in some of them – can’t do without those… especially when airheads like us were involved…
The month was almost ending. Naturally, things didn’t stop there, though we saw each other a lot more rarely. Though we wrote a lot. So much that you could get a headache. For example on January 29th 17 letters passed back and forth. Things like that.
Here’s a letter that has nothing to do with the events, but it’s fun.
From:   Мила
To:       Rogger Dojh
Subject:           На урок по биология
Малко биологични факти:
Оргазмът при прасетата трае 30 min (в следващия си живот искам да съм прасе :P)
Хората и делфините са единствените видове, които правят секс за удоволствие (хмм, с развитието на генното инженерство, дано да включат и прасетата :P)
Средностатистически хората се страхуват от паяци и хлебарки повече, отколкото от смъртта.
Като заговорихме за хлебарки ­ една хлебарка може да живее 9 дни без глава, преди да умре (след това да не ми излезе някой да спори, как не са съвършеното в еволюционно отношение животно).
Полярните мечки са леваци (интересно, кой го е доказал и на кого му влиза в работата).
Някои лъвове правят секс по над 50 пъти дневно (като се има пред вид, че по книжките пише, че обикновено спят по 20h на денонощие ­ егати и бързаците ­ 10x).
Мъжката богомолка не може да прави секс, докато има глава. Затова женските започват секса, откъсвайки главата на партньора (много мило, женските хора го правят всеки ден по малко ­ ти какво предпочиташ?).
Слоновете са единствените животни, които не могат да скачат (тук не броим комшийката от долния етаж ­ леля Дочка, която също не може).
Когато някой те подразни, за да се намръщиш, задействаш 42 мускула. За да покажеш среден пръст ­ само 4.
P. S. Коментарите в скобите са мои ­ за автентичността на останалото не отговарям ­ не съм го измислила аз :P
The fight with my father had some totally unexpected consequences: I learned to cook to prevent myself from starving to death.
February 2001.
At home things didn’t go very well for Mila, though they had improved a bit. A bit. At one of our meetings, to which Mila came in a lousy mood, I learned the following story.
She and Gesha are sitting at home again. And they’re discussing their life together. Gesha is getting into the role of a big shot – he’s explaining to Mila what she really represents/is. She is: cheap make up/cosmetics. Just a very regular girl. Hm, why is he with her then? Oh, better a bird in the hand, than two in the bush. He doesn’t want to go after high-maintenance chicks … it’s too complicated.
I’m sitting and listening, and wondering whether Mila has filed for divorce already. But no. She’s just slightly depressed. Damn (ужас). Sometimes I just can understand this girl. She’s taking shit/things that I think is/are unbearable…
That’s probably the reason (“that” being the fact her family problems had not magically disappeared; they had lingered, like an obnoxious цирей that doesn’t disappear after you break the mirror…) out meetings became more frequent again. Mila went to work in a crappy mood, we met some time during the day and her mood got better. It was natural that she liked us to see each other.
I was nagging on her for a longer date. I wanted us to be able to release all the unsaid thoughts (we had no idea what these thoughts were, we just knew they were hiding somewhere in our brains), to relax and communicate like two human beings човешки. Naturally there was no way this could happen while Gesha was in Sofia. But when he is in Turnovo… here’s what arrived in my mail box one day:
From:   Mila
Sent:    February 10, 2001 12:18
To:       Rogger Dojh
First of all – is it important for us to see each other? I’ll call you when I find out how things are with me. Wait for a call till 3 pm at the latest.
I have the following offer:
Offer: Early Sunday morning (10 – 10:30 am) you come home for pancakes. After that, if the weather is the same as today, we go for a Vitosha. Well, I suggest we don’t go for/emphasize on the hiking too much; we can bask (размажем) in the sun like lazy lizards on the first meadow we see instead. From then on: free activities/TBD. Necessary resources: a Swiss army knife, or a compact shotgun (двуцевка), matches or two sharp stones, a good book/s (porn pics are forbidden), a blanked, good spirits (from 11 to 45̊ , participant’s choice), a walkman or a lyrics book, knitting or other kind of entertainment.
Attire: smart casual
Attendance: almost mandatory
Sorry about taking my bad mood out on you yesterday. I will be a lot more careful next time the devils in my head decide to have their sacrifice ritual dances.
Date: Sunday, February 11, 2001
Time: some time after 11:30 am
Venue: the parking lot in front of J’N’B in Student town.
The weather is cold. A little bit of sunshine is peeking through the clouds, but more out of curiosity rather than to do something useful. There’s wind. Up to a few minutes before there was a drizzle. While I am driving into the parking lot I’m thinking that Vitosha is off the plan for the day. But I have a much better plan anyway. It’s called plan “Simeonovo”.
Mila is already in the parking lot.
‘Are you sure you don’t want me to make you pancakes?’
‘Yeah, I have no business at your place.’ I’m being firm about that.
‘I know a sweetshop nearby, where they make really delicious pancakes.’
‘Ok. By the way, I don’t think we’ll be going up Vitosha today.’
‘Me neither. Do you have any other suggestions?’
We’re walking towards the sweetshop.
‘Actually I do. What about going to O-Gosh’s house in Simeonovo? I’ve talked to him, I know he won’t mind.’
‘Will he be there?’
‘No. He has stuff to do in town during the day. There’s nobody there. Besides Zhorko, who’s really cool.’
‘Who’s Zhorko?’
‘O-Gosh’s cat.’
‘Great. Well, I’m up for that.’
We went into the sweetshop. I ate/consummated my pancake in complete silence. After that we went to buy some stuff/shopping.
This time I firmly stated that I’ll be choosing the wine. While I was looking over/through the bottles I stopped on/at a Cabernet Souvignon from the Rosenovo region. As it turned out later on, this was one of the best red wines I had ever tasted.
While we were still hanging around in Sofia the weather went bad (скапа). On the way to Simeonovo there was a slight drizzle and up in the mountain it was dark and wet.  We went into the house and turn the heater on. Mila got comfortable in an armchair and I sat on the bed. I popped a bottle of wine, lit the candle that was left from the birthday and turned on some music. It was/turned out pretty cozy.
About the time the first bottle was finished Mila took off her shoes and tucked her feet under the cover of the bed, which was exactly opposite her. This brought certain thoughts into my head.
A few years before me and Mum worked in Ilienci as software developers (what we did as devs in a wholesale market is a long story…). Our boss there was a weird guy; he stuttered but according to his own words, he had a very rich sexual background. He told quite a few stories about whores, fashion models and folk-singers and they all sounded very plausible. One time he had mentioned something about a rule, that will let you know if a woman wants to do you. Up to this moment, unlike the Bottom Test, this rule has proven correct in 100% of the cases. It sums up in the following: You take a girl home/to your office/villa (it’s important to be your own territory) – if she voluntarily takes off her shoes, that means she’s wet and there’s no point in asking – you take her and you start.
I stalled a bit, talked a bit more BS and finally decided to give it a go.
‘Come here’ I told Mila. These are magic words. Evidently said to a woman they have a magical effect. They are always followed by the question ‘Why’ to which you respond with ‘Because/Cuz’. Then you start kissing. Stuff like that.
Mila didn’t hesitate long and tucked under the covers with me. It was warmer there and there was a guy (from her point of view that was a plus; it wouldn’t have been from mine).
We started enjoying each other and it was just getting interesting when Mila pulled out a piece of paper from somewhere and said:
‘I wrote you a letter.’
“Oh, no you didn’t” my brain replied. “No letters. Why letters. Letters are forbidden today, and in the next 250 years. Letters kaput! Burn all the letters; they are bad for the social culture and the normal sexual relations between people!”
Bu the letter was there, right under my nose, printed out and starting with the sentence: ‘I thought a lot and decided to stay with Gesha.”
“Damn it/sweet mother of mercy(???)” my brain continued “Not again!” it exclaimed a moment later when I read on “I got stuck in a story foaming with laundry detergents again”.
“Laundromats” my brain added, clinging to the thought of washing clothes like a lifeguard to a drowning man with a straw. And somewhere in an isolated section of my brain the information from the letter kept importing.
I read it somehow. Mila was observing me focused. I left the letter aside and lay back again. I crossed my arms under my head. I looked around the ceiling. It was pleasantly empty.
‘So?’ Mila inquired.
‘What So?’ I inquired in turn.
‘Aren’t you going to react?!?!’ Mila was like a little girl in front of an aquarium; she was tapping the glass and was really annoyed that the fish kept on hanging calmly and stupidly looked at her.
‘Oh…’ unuttered bad phrases haunted the dots. I shut up again.
‘Say something!’
‘Something?’ I asked timidly (плахо). Hm, I guess she didn’t have that in mind.
Mila went furious/mad. I didn’t really care. “I decided to stay with Gesha…” Hey, are these panties that are rubbing against my thigh mine? Oh, but it’s yooouuu Mila, wearing only your panties; so that’s how you make ground-braking decisions – only in your underwear…Gesha? The sparrow hunter? Stay wherever you want, just don’t bother me with this bullshit. Ugh.
From that moment on I only waited to get sober so that we can get back with the Blur Bird. We almost didn’t speak – i.e. Mila was explaining some stuff but I didn’t really try to listen. She was just repeating herself anyway. It was way more pleasant when I was lying in the warm bed, the candle flickering on the table, Mila next to me… Oh no, she’s affected/upset. Doesn’t matter, she’s cute like that too. As long as she doesn’t get physical on me. Heeeyyy! Stop it, what did I do to you? Reaction? You want a reaction? YOU WILL GET IT:
‘What the hell do you expect from me? To jump and declare: NO, YOU WILL BE WITH ME!? To challenge Gesha to a duel? To kidnap you? It’s your own business where and with whom you will be! That decision is up to you! I make my own choices but I won’t solve your personal problems! Just decide who it will be already and don’t waste my time with this crap anymore!!!’
Mila looked at me slightly scared. I gave her some good reaction. Emotional, dramatic. Pleased with myself I leaned back again.
After that outburst we calmed down a bit. We went to more neutral subjects. The afternoon was changing into evening, which came early, as it’s supposed to in February…
Around 8 PM I was sober enough to be able to drive.
‘I want us to talk about something before I go home. But I want to have that conversation over a beer’ the offer came from Mila.
‘Ok, but you’ll have to wait till I’m done with a task for tomorrow. If I have a beer before that I’ll feel so sleepy that I won’t be able to do anything after that.
At home it was light, warm and welcoming, as usual. The TV was on, and so was the PC. We ate something quick for dinner and I splashed myself in front of the PC. Mila was getting bored.
In about an hour I was still working.
‘Will you finish soon?’ she crept next to me on the bed with a beer in hand (to work on the PC one had to sit on the bed).
‘Weeeell’ I dragged not too assuredly. I didn’t know either.
‘Come on, leave that stuff. It’s getting late; I want to get home and take a shower before I go to bed.’
In a few minutes Mila’s words managed to seep through the web-shit that was clogging my brain.
‘Ah, right. Ok. Where’s me beer?’
‘Here it is.’
I pulled away from the PC and sat in one side of the bed with my legs crossed underneath me. Mila got accommodated opposite me.
‘Let’s hear it.’
‘You know how much I love you. But I can’t leave Gesha. I …’
‘Oh, please. Don’t start again!’
Mila went silent for a moment.
‘Damn it! You didn’t play your cards well at all!’ she decided to skip the intro.
‘What cards?’ I asked, sincerely lost about what she was trying to say.
‘You had a chance to convince me, to win me over…’
I figured out what cards she was talking about. That made me slightly angry.
‘I wasn’t playing any cards today! You stated in a straight voice what you had decided and I agreed. What did you expect me to do?’
‘I wanted you to react in some way. I wanted you to do something so that … It doesn’t matter.”
So that I’d win her back? How did she not get it? The fact that she sees herself as a trophy to be won automatically excludes her from my aspirations. But on the other hand, it might have been just me. It was like all women sooner or later went insane in that tragic way in my presence. Even the cool ones, like Mila, started behaving bitchy. Whyyyy, why, my dear Dojh?.
I tried explaining that to her. It was difficult. I was having problems formulating my blurry thoughts in a sentence.
We were silent for a little while.
‘How about a casual out-of-marriage relationship?’ Mila suddenly offered. I jumped.
‘That’s absurd, how could you think of it?!?’ I exclaimed, horrified. My brain had managed to assemble scenes/snapshots from that affair. All of them comical, but why is everybody in them crying?
‘I’m offering this because I love you too much! I love you so much that I want to swallow you and carry you with me everywhere!’
If you have ever been waken up with a bucket of cold water then you might, to a certain extent, imagine the effect these words had on me.
I felt like I was passing a stone. Nelly! Word by word, that was exactly what Nelly had said!!! Help! What the hell is going on here!?!  
I pulled back from the girl like I was burned. She looked at me, desperately trying to understand why I had reacted like that. I guess the panic and horror were written on my face, cuz Mila startled.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked?
‘You talk exactly like Nelly’ I explained with a grave voice.
‘I’m sorry!’ short pause. ‘But I love you! It’s just that I need time to make a decision that would work for you!’
Again! It happened again! As if the little barking Nelly had possessed Mila’s body!
Enough, I said. Over. Mila no more. Stop the war in Iraq, etc.
‘Look’ I took a deep breath ‘No more stories like that. I took a firm and clear decision and it’s – everyone goes their own way. We’ll stay friends – that’s a separate issue. But you go back to your husband. I have no more claims on you.
What a great non-love explanation. But with the Bitch in White I had lived through such an emotional shock that my reaction was coming directly from my spinal cord. It wasn’t subject to any discussion or appeal.
Mila turned on the tears.
My brained screamed in the darkness of my skull/cranal box, gripped by a claustrophobic seizure. It wanted to get out, the poor thing.
‘I’m gonna go’ the girl said.
‘It’s better you stay here to sleep and sober up/come to.’ I told her. In the last hour she had fallen into an inadequate state and needed somebody to take care of her. She could realize at least that; or she was just refusing to take any independent decisions, cuz she listened to me. She took her clothes of and crawled under the covers.
I felt incredibly good – the whole package of open questions related to a future where Mila existed came off my shoulders. My brain was signing with happiness; the better part of its CPU load had disappeared, releasing resources for the everyday tasks to start running smoothly with their usual speed. I got comfortable in front of the PC and went on with my work on the site.
That’s how me and Mila broke up. 27 days + one bonus day in the end.
Plus a notable discussion.
Date: Some time early February 2001
Time: Around noon
Venue: In a random coffee place
‘It could be weird for you’ Mila explained over her soda glass ‘but Gesha has the perfect genetic material. If I have kids, they have to be from him. What I do after that doesn’t matter.
‘Are you getting sick or something?’ I asked, sincerely worried (you talk shit like that only with temperature above 39.7 Celsius.)
‘No, I know that you’re looking at things differently…’
‘Of course I do! Your theory is borderline fascist!’
‘Bullshit! And bottom line is, Gesha is my husband, so it’s normal that I want my kids to be from him.’
‘Let’s change the subject cause I’m getting a headache… Perfect genetic material… God almighty…
(In the mail below in [] is the text from Mila’s letter to which I am replying; everything else is mine)
From:   Rogger Dojh
To:       Mila
Subject:           Re:
[ Last night was a very dark one. To tell you the truth, I envy you a little bit and I am a little proud of you for not taking advantage of me when I wanted you to so much. :))) That was the Right thing to do.]
[It would now sound rude and disrespectful to explain to you how dear you are to me and how much I love you. I love you so much that I want you to be happy. But not as much as for me to be the source of that happiness.]
Ok, I get it.
[At least not in the way that you imagine – me leaving Gesha and coming to.]
Relax, those visions are in the past.
[At least not now. I don’t know if it’s meant for us to ever be together. What I know is that it will show in the next 5-6 months at the latest. I’m not telling you to wait till then.]
Yeah, that would have been something. (too vague???)
[But I don’t want you pressuring me like you did yesterday – all or nothing.]
After you get some sleep read your email and we’ll see if you won’t get a headache :P Who did I pressure, kiddo? Who dumped two pages of wisdom on me? And after that you go and protest that there’s no reaction. And when there was one, you protested that you didn’t like it. Or maybe it was me explaining to you how I’m gonna live with Gesha but actually, I really want to eat you? You go and stand in front of a cop with a gun in your hand, and we’ll see if they shoot at you. :P
[But if you really insist on this, so be it. (* She means discontinuing any type of ­ Б.а.) If that will make you feel better, and helps you sleep and eat. This is how it’s going to be. Don’t delete the mails if you don’t want to; but if you are planning on that, so will I. But if you reconsider, the one thing I can promise you is that we won’t see each other too often.]
Hang on a minute, I’m just withdrawing (this time emotionally as well) all claims on you. That means that I don’t intend on seeing you often or rarely, just whenever. I don’t care about any plans. I have my own way that I’m following and you have yours and if it happens that our ways cross – well, ok; otherwise – it’s still ok.
[But when we see each other we won’t have to prove anything to each other or be scared.]
The thing with the proving part is your idea. The way I see it, I’m in the game of proving stuff to you, but that’s just because otherwise it will be stupid to just stay quiet and nod understandingly.
[And it will be much more relaxed and I guess very pleasant. Because we will know why we’re doing it and there won’t be a struggle in our relationship.]
What the hell are you talking about, dear girl?
[Give them hell today – those at work and everybody that crosses your way. Have a good one. :)))))]
Oh, 10x. Now I have to explain to Stefan Ivanov why I won’t be going to see him and I won’t send him the contracts – i.e. because I’m so sleepy I can hardly keep my eyes open. Let’s see if I can pull that off. :)
[Btw I want a reply to this mail at least. And the thing that Milady told you about women chasing the guy when he stops paying attention to them is true only for some women in some situations. I think this isn’t the case.]
Now don’t you start thinking this is the reason why I’m putting an end to this. It’s not a pose it’s really serious. It’s not exactly an end but after yesterday I don’t really care. Right now I’m feeling free (i.e. not committed to you in any way). That’s about it.
[One more thing. We’re both not really good at explaining, especially when we are together.]
Because talking sux as I have pointed out a number of times; but nobody listens.
[I want to ask you to be more open with me. Isn’t the better way of communication being completely honest with each other? (hehe, I’m just excusing about hurting you so often.) Anyway, think about that.]
Thinking also sux :P
[:)))Kisses :P:P]
God bless you. And don’t get wrapped up about it. The things between us remain in the past but that doesn’t make them bad. Simeonovo yesterday was great; there was a lot of emotions, serious talk, good wine, love fireworks, sex, everything. It wasn’t so bad, And we were together, which makes it even better. :)
Rogger Dojh
From:   Mila
To:       Rogger Dojh
Subject:           The last question
Btw, one last questions – don’t answer if you don’t feel like it.
Last night, was it just sex?
From:   Rogger Dojh
To:       Mila
Subject:           Re: the last question
What do you think? Sometimes I feel like I’m not talking to you but to the wall :P No, it was love, and it was completely shared at that…
And so:
After the whole story Mila went back to her husband who had obviously lost his firm confidence of a feudal master, got himself together and started behaving like a good husband is supposed to.
At the moment Mila is on a maternity leave. The kid is a boy and is starting to ужасно resemble his father. Well yeah, everyone is worried – it doesn’t miss a chance to pinch Mila’s girlfriends’ butts from the stroller.
But what can you do about it – genetic material!
The winter came and the three piglets decided to build a house to keep their flab warm. They sat and wondered for a while and eventually decided to build a house of fall leaves. Or better to say an igloo of fall leaves. Or to say it straight – a huge heap of fall leaves they started to grub into like real swine.
The wolf, whose balls had already shrunk to hazelnuts of bitter cold, was really pissed off at the piglets for having such a nice house, so he went for a visit. Here he is, sitting in front of the house and talking:
“Yo, swine, let me in to get warm. It’s ass-freezing here outside.”
He wanted to sound scary, but his chattering teeth ruined the impression.
The piglets, cozily nestled together under the fall quilt, were debating over the wolf’s request:
“Let this gay fix himself up in here, and we are as good as eaten.”
“No way we’re letting him in!”
The third piglet directly shouted out:
“Yo, gay, swell gay, go your way with no delay!”
Ооо, как се ядосал Вълкът, зачудил се що да стори и му хрумнала блестяща идея. Надул с все сила дробовете си и като духнал по къщата на прасенцата и тя се разлетяла на сички страни, а прасенцата останали да лежат в снега по корем, захлупили с предните си копитца очи.
Вълкът, отвратен и от прасенцата, и от себе си, и от целия живот, се разкарал.
Седнали прасенцата пак да обсъждат, де да зимуват, но било много студено, та си капнали по малко ракия да се сгреят.
­ Е па я викам по-здрава къща да си построим ­ думало едното прасе.
­ Е па от що ке я правим?
­ От снег ­ рекло третото прасе, дето най-много било пило и вече мозъкът му в извънземен режим заработил.
Е те туй било то едно истинско иглу.
Седи Вълкът на един хълм и вие по луната, дето се не види през облаците, и гледа, на другия край на гората дим се вие. "Скапаните прасета пак къща са построили, рекъл си той, и огън са запалили, бе не ме интересува, ще ходя там, че тука топките ми на грахчета ке станат".
Отишъл Вълчо до иглуто и потропал на вратата.
­ Ей, свини, я да ме пуснете и я да се постоплим малко, че тука вънка си е ебало мамата ­ рекъл той.
­ Я па тоя! ­ дочул се отвътре вик. ­ Къф си ти бе?
­ Бегай се, дорде не сме ти подпалили опашката! ­ викнало второто прасе.
­ Ойлеле, Вълкът цял гей-парад е спретнал! ­ изпискало третото прасе, като надзърнало през прозорчето. Вълчо се огледал озадачено, но не видял никой друг. ­ Ти за десет гея се броиш бе, тъпоумнико! ­ изкискало се прасето на прозореца.
Вълчо направо побеснял, поел ужасно дълбоко въздух и като духнал, нищо не направил. Гадното иглу не помръднало ни на йота (* Йота (yotta) - буква от гръцката азбука, изпълзва се като SI префикс в системата от мерни единици SI и обозначава 10 на 24-та степен или 1 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 000 (един квадрилион). До настоящият момент йота е най-големият потвърден официално SI префикс. Ехх, кога ли ще си купуваме хардове, на които пише 6YB ... Б.а. ). Спрял се, та се замислил що да стори. "Ке се изпикаем на иглуто им и то ке се разтопи!", светнали му очичките и речено ­ сторено.
Мокри и кисели като лимони прасенцата се замъкнали надалеч от препиканото място, а Вълкът се върнал на хълма си, защото нямало вече къща в гората и нямало що да дири из пущинака.
Ууу, този път прасенцата подхванали сериозно бутилката, но не толкоз заради студа, колкото от срам и унижение. Седнали до горския поток, който още не бил замръзнал, и подели такава беседа:
­ Тоа ке му правим главата да роди лепенки ­ разправяло завалено едното прасенце.
­ Ке му избием зъбките, ей! ­ дразнело се другото.
­ Ке му правим лицето трудно за рисуване! ­ канело се третото.
­ Ей с тоя клон ке го потрошим! ­ размахало някакъв клон първото прасенце.
­ Ей, по-леко ма! ­ рекло второто, защото клонът го шибнал по кратуната.
­ Ке му го наврем тоя клон в ... ­ но първото прасенце не могло да довърши, тъй като клонът съборил второто в ледените води на потока и то се разпискало:
­ Помооощ! Помооощ!
­ Олеле, що стори ти ма! ­ провикнало се третото прасенце и се опитало да помогне на второто, но течението вече го било отнесло далееече, далече.
­ Вълкът е виновен ­ заявило първото и, залитайки, тръгнало към хълма, откъдето се чувал самотният вой на Вълчо.
­ Ке го утепем ­ допълнило третото прасенце и двамцата, прегърнати през рамо, се заклатушкали да отмъстят.
Намерили Вълка (премръзнал, та се вкочанил ­ а топките му ­ на ечемик се свили) и като го подбрали, направо го утепали от бой. След това се върнали при поточето да полеят победата. Напили се като кирки и заспали. Напролет, когато Баба Меца най-сетне изпълзяла от бърлогата си, била приятно изненадана от замразеното свинско, което открила да се валя безпризорно в ракитака.
Когато обаче изяла месото, Баба Меца така се напила от високото алкохолно съдържание в него, че си забравила името и накрая си измислила ново, което било 6тата мечка.

[B2]дали се разбира на английски?  
[B3]Не може да си намери място; в главата ми се вътри думата restless  
[B4]Да я стоплят – чисто физически  
[B5]Викам да ги подменим с US popular лекарства за температура и болка в мускулите  
[B7]Все й се върти из главата  
[D8]Нещо не е наред  
[B9]Някаква по-засукана дума за усещане?  
[B10]Не ме кефи повторението на her  
[B12]докато над мен се е ширнало едно измито от дъжда звездно небе  
[D14]eurodict, search for  сторено  
[D16]буквален превод  
[D17]чете се трудно  
[D18]не съм сигурен, дали на английски ще се разбере метафората, но ако ще – много ме кефи как звучи  
[D19]няма начин да няма термин за този вид прическа  
[D21]е едно такова свенливо същество  
[D24]дали тук наистина означава изкуствен в този смисъл?  
[D25]Нещо ми е куцо  
[D26]И това не ме кефи, но не зная точно защо  
[B27]Тук и на български не ми допада, и на английски...  
[B28]Разказвайки ненормални истории от департамента... J  
[B30]Времето до 10 изтече неусетно и приятно. – някак на бълграски звучи много по-леко и приятно  
[B31]nicely? Нещо по-колоритно?  
[B32]То и в българския текст е същото, но нещо не се разбира, защо WE HAD TO  
[B33]Някакъв по-английски словоред?  
[B34]Тъй като изобщо не ми се прибира...  
[B36]трябва ни нещо по-разговорно  
[B37]woe and behold…

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