1. The beauty and the beast :: A very Eastern European tale…

I was sitting on a couch in Panta Rhei -a book shop- the other day and I could overlook the café that’s connected to this very mainstream book store. Facing me was what you’d call a hot looking girl. Or a barbie doll. There are usually two camps in this sort of situation. Anyway, lately I’m not good at rating a woman’s beauty since two women in particular cloud my vision.

Sitting next to her was a completely bald, dumpling of fat in a light blue, expensive looking costume. I was sitting a bit too far away to actually overhear the conversation, but it was obvious from her gestures that she was bending over backwards to make a good impression on him. She clearly wanted something from him. A job? Money? Some sort of opportunity? Perhaps she just happened to like the dude for his irresistible personality and impeccable taste in golden watches?? I kinda doubt that. She was wildly overdressed and had overdone the make-up. Her hair was ok, but it was so overly styled that it lost all appeal. Quite a feat to pull off, because I’m notoriously bad at determining whether a woman is wearing make-up or not.

The only sentence I caught the woman saying was: ‘I only go to Instagram to look at the outfits’. Was she applying for a job at some modeling agency? I have no idea. From the look of it money was involved. When they stood up to leave, the guy’s huge belly was bulging over his pants. He had some kind of limp as well. And no neck. Maybe I’m prejudiced, but even though she was trying so painstakingly to make a good impression on the guy I couldn’t shake off the idea that she didn’t care about him, but about some kind of advantage. He was very unresponsive, I’m guessing because he wasn’t an idiot and knew she wasn’t into him but into something he had to offer. His stoic unresponsiveness made her try all the harder to curry favor.

I was smiling the whole time and trying to lock eyes with her to make her nervous and to see if she could tell from my face that I thought it was a farcical performance. Women always know when you are looking and she made an effort not to look in my direction, because she didn’t want anything to distract her from gaining whatever it was she hoped to gained there.

Neither of the two looked happy.

2. What can a woman do to make you fall in love with her?

Nothing. It’s purely about chemistry. Some punch to her feromones.


The eyes need to beam with razor-sharp intelligence.

Play with me a little. Playfulness is necessary.

And being very flirtatious, but in a clever, subtle, witty way. Yes, being witty will certainly multiply her chances.

And self-confidence. Lots of that. Not the arrogant, insecure kind, but real self-confidence. Just knowing what she wants and being almost 100 percent sure she can get it if she sets her mind to it.

A certain ‘je ne sais quoi’ in her movements.

A nonchalance about not even trying to impress me.

Not taking any of my bullshit.

Going right for the jugular, when it comes to unmasking me.

Challenging me. Almost fighting with me in a way.

A certain kind of jewelry helps. Lately I’ve discovered that big round earrings have a particular appeal to me if combined with self-confidence.

Long hair helps. As does a sandmill figure and shapely thighs.

I don’t give a fvck about breast size.

3. When is business slow for prostitutes?

I got this from Quora. Prostitutes are twiddling their thumbs during school holidays. The clients are spending time at home with their wife and kids…

Makes you think, doesn’t it?

4. The imperfections are what make something perfect

Sometimes. Often enough. It tends to be true that what drives a friendship, a connection, a fling, an affair, or whatever kind of human interaction, is not just what is easy about it, but also what is hard about it, what doesn’t go smoothly.

War is the source of all things, said some Greek dude after just the right amount of wine to know things.

5. A psychology lesson from World War II that kinda haunts me :: the Albert Speer principle

You could also call it the Hess principle or the Rosenberg principle. Irvin Yalom’s book ‘The Spinoza problem’ covers this, among other things.

What drove people to serve Hitler was that he made them feel like they were somebody.

To me the best and most fascinating case is that of Albert Speer, one of Hitler’s architects, who became his minister of armements and almost single-handedly prolonged the war by two years.

If that guy hadn’t had such a needy ego he wouldn’t have needed Hitler to feel like he was somebody.

It’s uncanny what drive it can give a person if they want to impress or please someone of great willpower that they look up to.

I used to pull all nighters to write self-invented homework to please my professor of Slovene.

And I used to go running for 12 kms right after such an all nighter to make a favorable impression on my father.

It’s a whole other thing to find the same sort of motivation inside one’s self. So far I haven’t found it yet, not in those kind of quantities anyway, but I’m close to finding it.

Find something you love and let it kill you.

But let it not be a Hitler.

Let it be a woman for example.

Or writing.

My father prophesied that writing would end up killing me.

Or solving the homelessness crisis. Something like that.

Please don’t let it be smoking.

That’s just sad.