This feels scary. I used to be the guy that gives people drugs. I sold speed. I quit once for a girlfriend, after 2 years. Then when I wanted to get back in the game after she dumped me I never got the same quality and the same amount of customers. It didn’t last long until I quit for ever. We are now 8 years further and instead of selling people drugs I now sell them vaginas. I quit after 2 years because I wanted to be free from RSD’s shackles to make my own money. And now I disbanded the masterclass for my own healing work. I see a pattern here and it scares me.

I have my eyes closed and try to focus on that feeling. It’s no Friday morning 5:25 and I just ran outside for 2 minutes and now going into my meditation session after sitting with this feeling.

I get the urge of just pulling down my pants and stroke the ham but I’m strong and resist the urge. It’s a drug to run away from this fear. It’s based on me being superstitious but according to Jung it’s quite abnormal not to be, if I understood well. And surely there are cycles that repeat themselves in my life. I even made just as much monthly income with dating coaching then with drug dealing when I quit both.

I almost pray for the strength to be able to get back into coaching this next level stuff to others but I must let go of that desire too.
I don’t believe in God. I just let go and trust in the universe and in my subconscious mind. I believe that we are the sole cause of all our problems.

So many people that don’t understand me, my landlord, a roommate, a college, a former coach that I looked up to and some of my students even tried to stop me from disbanding. They will probably continue without me. Making it into a mastermind again. I cannot interfere with that. It hurts. It took me all my strength to build it up.

All the infields I shot in three years time. Half of them still need editing but for now it seems that I won’t be using all that anymore. It’s probably for the best if comparing this to being a drug dealer is a hunch that I get when I sit here and notice the logo on my folder with pink and light-blue, peeking at me through my leather bag’s opening that I would carry around it in every week.

It’s now 5:40 and I should get my cold shower. When I get home I’ll write about my date with me, I had 2 days ago.

It’s now Saturday. I couldn’t write yesterday. I was too confused. I had listened to a book about feminism at work and got later shut down by a roommate and former student. He told me with good arguments that what I had read was bullshit.
Normally I’m his teacher.

I felt small.
It’s good to get confused. I switched between Jung and Dawkins before my fasting period. My coach John told me that reading books is an ego fulfilling activity many times. If they are self help.

When later that day I told my landlord that I disbanded the masterclass he told me I was a fool. I finally got money from it and I should have someone else lead it. He even told me who. My friend Nicolò, which he doesn’t even like.

I tried to call Nicolò but he didn’t reply. I numbed myself down for the rest of the evening by watching half a season of Game of Thrones. In between the episodes I had sweaty palms and pain in my heart. Thinking of what I had done.

 

A couple days later:
This morning I woke up fresh and decided to run outside for a bit. I took a box of clothes that I didn’t need to my new citybox around the corner and told myself that this is really amazing. It’s a cheap citybox, at five minutes walking distance from my house. We have a steam cabin in the house, the Amstelpark is at five minutes walking too. My landlord is amazing and I kind of like the company in the house. I think we are made to live in small communities.

I decide to run an alternate way. It’s just a 10 minutes run around a small pond and an old windmill but the faces and memories…

Wow I’ve really been running away from myself. I can clearly see it now.
I remember an aupair that lived next door, a girl I had sex with on a bench, I remember I really liked her and I compare her to another ex-girlfriend with the same vibe.

 

I run a bit more and see the face of a girl that I’m still seeing, some faces that I only remember from pictures, like the other day. I remember the first one three years ago and sometimes I remember situations without faces.
I know it’s time to write down my story about my date with myself when I come home.

 

Later that day:
Three days ago I decided to walk in the Amstelpark, alone. I biked there the day before and didn’t feel at ease at all. It reminded me of the time I walked in Goes to try have sex with a girl that I connected with in my youth. I decided that she should be the 100th notch on my bed post because I desired her when I was nine or ten years old. Had a short thing with her when I was sixteen. And two years ago I was in her house but screwed up by not going easy enough. That was the event that ingrained the two steps forward one step back method in my mind. I failed myself that day but had Christmas with another girl instead that would kill herself a couple days later.

Maybe I’ll write about that some day.

I guess she didn’t have the possibilities to run away like I did.

I kept running away.

 

This year, I failed again with my youth youth desire.

She flaked on me and I wandered around in Goes. When I got back I had sex with a Spanish aupair the same week even without having a date. Just coerced her to come to my place for food when I picked her up from the station. That’s the mindset that I had. I loved it and used it to run away from me.
So when I was walking around in Goes I felt terrible. Memories of my young me trying to get around in this hellhole.

In the Amstelpark I have nothing to blame my feeling of worthlessness to myself. I love this park. Great memories. Great pain when I’m alone there though.
I need to do this. I walk in there with my paint clothes and some bread that I have left from my lunch. I decide to feed the ducks but I walk slowly around the same route that I took all the girls on too. Starting and ending at the southern entrance. Where my house is closest to.

The park is big and beautiful and I found the most romantic way of walking through it. Not deliberately but just habitually. I have no idea how many girls I took there. I could count it some day because I have pictures of most of them but that would be an ego activity as well.

I walk and start crying a bit. I see faces of a couple girls. I recall the memories. How we failed to connect. I judge myself for trying to get something from them. I judge myself for trying to shove my lifestyle down their throats. I wanted to keep them around but would have sex first so they would get invested emotionally.
I walk past some places where I even had sex in the park but usually I would wait until my home to undress them or order them to undress themselves for me, if it felt good.

I recall how I got one of them filmed by walking the same route as always. I had shown my cameraman how to walk and it worked out perfectly. He was one step ahead of us all the time. The girl didn’t notice a thing. I’m feeling bad for having done that.
It’s only possible to do that if you fool yourself greatly that what you do is for some greater good. The irony about it is that if the end justifies the means, but what you teach are the means, then the end is near.

Don’t get me wrong though. I still believe that manipulating someone to give them a chance to discover themselves sexually is not a bad thing to do. It just takes great responsibility.
I wouldn’t want to do that anymore though, but I probably will, unconsciously.
I have a lot to unlearn but I think I still have a head start over my nearest competitor. It’s egoistic to coerce people into your own pleasure.
And that’s why I’m working on my ego now.

As I walk through the park and already think of myself writing this down and I notice a small tear again… this is a red flag and scared me again. If I’m going to write this all down I shouldn’t make it an ego fulfilling activity. Two rules for me now. No numbing down and no ego enhancement. They are probably the same in the long run, the running away from my pure self.
I invite you to follow me on my journey.