Herstory 7 – First love + Polyamory

so i’m skipping the chronological order. going back in time, to the first love. cause i realized that it’s an important part in my development. kind of where my jesus complex started…

this is written to a person i befriended for a while. starting with reflections on love and the twosomeness norm, and polyamory. and then the love letter i wrote.

Note: I would not use the word “fuck” today, since it is offensive and expresses patriarchal violence. I still slip up, when i get really upset though, but i think i will eventually stop using the word in a sex negative way. (in short not using it as in fuck=violence/power but as in fuck=making love)

SUBJECT: about love

and selfishness. the latest thing that has caught my interest in feminist theory is the big sham about the holy “twosomeness”. i.e you’re damned if you do and you’re damned if you don’t.. *

* this twosomeness standard hurts us ’cause:
a) if you’re ‘single’, you have a feeling (or others have a feeling) of you not being ‘complete’
b) if you’re together with someone, you’re not free

i think it’s called ‘parisuhdenormatiivi’ in Finnish. tvåsamhetsnormen in Swedish.

at first when i heard about it i was thinking stuff like: but a relationship with two is difficult enough! i can’t imagine what a relationship with three or four in it would be like!

but now i think i sort of understood what it’s all about. unselfishness. and that there are no relationships with jealousy and fidelity between people.

there’s just people. and the way they feel about each other.

sort of: sex – why deny the others of touching and sharing enjoyment and attraction etc and so forth and so on.

it’s just like sharing a conversation. (wow. these super jealous guys who forbid their girlfriends to even talk to other guys..)

and: why feel like you’re ‘less worth’ if somebody you like is attracted to/enjoy the company of more than just one person on this earth? and why feel bad ’cause you yourself are attracted to/enjoy the company of more than one person? (why not feel guilt over having a really nice conversation about frogs with a stranger on the bus??!)

[i guess this works easier live. but it’s something i’ve been wanting to talk about for a long time. and it’s the latest thing that happened to my mind. the freshest new thought. i had a protu meeting when this was discussed on a femakko [feminist] -get-together at siperia. i really felt i missed out on something. like having your birthday cake taken away from you or something..]

speaking of which. my birthday at mäki kupla in kallio. sitting in the men’s room. sobbing. seeing myself. there at this räkälä [crappy bar]. no friends. and the only thing i had achieved was a stupid love letter to a person who didn’t even bother to read it.

i met him on the street just before new-years. he refused to talk to me. said i should pay somebody to listen to what i had to say.. (fucking nasty bastard. and: WHAT IS this thing with people wanting me to do therapy??! what’s wrong with seeing listening caring for? no money involved?)

i still have a thing for him. cause i’ve never loved a person the way i loved this cocaine-dealing cocaine-snorting drunk sexist stuck-up shithead.

a year ago i was still listening to sappy love songs and crawling and bawling on the floor.

status now: i’m not good. but i’m better.

still a little crazy i guess. not understanding all the madness in the world.

(Xy) is clearly sexist. and his dad showed porn on (??). and his uncle used to live with this woman who he abused and raped and had a kid with. now he lives in estonia with another woman. and has another kid. i assume he’s treating her just as badly as the woman in finland – history repeating. (Xy)‘s grandfather could tear the tablecloth off the table at dinner time.. but i couldn’t see this in him. i couldn’t see the hatred he had for me and all the other women on this planet.

i don’t think i will be that blind again, though. it’s important for me to love myself. the way women love (unselfishly) is not healthy. i wish we could turn our worshipping gaze to each other instead of loving the holy man, who just sits there and takes it for granted.

fuck. (Xy) was so full of self pity. spreading hatred in the things he said and did, and still, he .. aaargh. it’s clear i could go on and on about this.. so i stop now.

anyways: the love i felt for him. broadened my understanding of myself and the whole human race..



I’m sorry if my way of speaking to you offends you.
I’m no mind reader and I ain’t perfect… Ok? Bear with me.
First of all. I love you. (In the imperfect carnal and selfish way.
But what the hey…)
I’m sorry if I hurt you in any way.
Positively sorry that I in my ignorance was hurt by your ignorance.
Would you believe me if I said I know better now?
If I said that I got enlightened ten past six 22.8.2003 in Tapiola!?
That I have the key to happiness and would like to share it with you?
How did all this begin?
For me.
Getting intoxicated by your sweet sweet love.
I’m a junkie for your love
I wanted it so much that it scared me. I just couldn’t handle it.
I had no self-control whatsoever. I wanted to run off somewhere and hide…
Blah blah. Whatever.
When it came to my knowledge that you were, shall we say, “generously
sharing yourself” with others… I felt gutted. Woe was me…
Hanging the motto “Share your love freely.
But not your body!” over your bed was number one on my X-mas list.
Which is completely STOOPID! considering I don’t “have” you _at all_.
The pain I felt was pure selfishness.
It came from what _I_ _wanted_.
_I wanted_ _your_ love.
So I had to think about how much I love you and came to the conclusion
that I love you a lot more than that.
I love you so much that I can be unselfish about it.
What _you_ want and _your_ happiness is what matters. Not mine.
And gone was my pain. And so was my petty self-pity…
And. Ta-daa! I was filled with love!
So finding happiness was a piece of cake… I laughed myself silly
over there at the Stockmann cafeteria in Tapiola…
Just as Buddha must have done under his tree… So simple.
Want for nothing. Give, give, give.
And you _shall_ get!

This love I have for you, I expanded to EVERYONE. That’s sort of the key…
The love you have for (w). (Q). Your mother. Extend that love to EVERYTHING.
My love for you is in the asphalt you’re walking (yeah, yeah – I _know_ it’s sappy…)
It’s in the grumpy girl in the supermarket.
In the drunkard passed out in the street outside…
In all this you have my love for you.
It surrounds you. It embraces you.
All living things around you are love.
We are all sensitive instruments. Play anything else than love on us
and there is no harmony. I.e we feel bad.
Trying to put it to you gently. Let’s say you’re a little bit out of tune? Ok?
I’ve been there myself. The land of anguish and PAIN… 🙂
I too laughed at violence.
I remember going to the movies with my friend Åsa (top-grades in Swedish and a
perfect Beavis and Butt-Head imitator).
Wild at Heart. A guy gets his head shot off. She turns her head trying
to get away from the violence on the screen… while I welcome it. Laughing out loud…
It’s quite clear to me now that I was a sick pup and she was _not_ a softie.
She was actually perfectly NORMAL.
So much to say.
I wish there was a way I could make you trust me. A way I could return
the great gift you’ve given me.
A way out of the madness.
Maybe Edward M Podvoll could help you too? With
The Seduction of Madness.
I know many more but I’m sure you will find your own way once you start on the right track.
Basically it works like this: whatever gives you a “hangover” is bad for you.
And whatever makes you feel good is love. Do love. Speak love
and it will come back to you.
If it makes you feel bad. Stop beating your head against the wall.
Try something new!
You can also call it ‘changing’… And it ain’t as ‘bad’ as you might think…
It saddens me to have to tell you that you probably have a little more
work to do than I did.
You being on top of the food chain… White guy and all…
Your enemy is “otherness”. Thinking anything else than ‘white guy’ is ‘different’.
Books will cure this for you. Books by the “others”.
How do I make you start this journey towards unconditional love?


Man. It’s time to say good bye… I’m like a sulky kid. I don’t want to…

So once more. (I have to. I can’t get enough of it. I love saying it.
This is for all the times I didn’t.) (Xy), I LOVE YOU. Oh, how I do.
Thank you for driving me crazy… Over and out. Milla


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