We Apologize for any Technical Difficulties.

They were experiencing some technical problems at the theater. The audience To Be but now Are Not, were not amused and demanded refunds and vouchers. There was a lot of shoving and elbowing, and people were speaking in really angry voices. I spoke in an angry voice, I didn’t know why I did it, because I wasn’t angry. I just wanted my money back and a voucher. But maybe I thought I had to sound angry, to get what I wanted, so I did. Actually it is unnecessary. One can smile and demand one’s rights in this town, this I know. (yeah right)

“What a disappointment” I told my partner. “Technical difficulties… Pah! It’s like being about to fuck your girlfriend and then saying ‘Sorry luv, I’m just experiencing some technical difficulties at the moment, now, hold on’ turning around, grabbing your limp dick and trying to coax it to life with durex Tingling Sensation lubricant but realizing you forgot to wash your hands properly after you helped chop up the ingredients for Tom Yum soup.”

We went to another cinema and got tickets for a later show. He asked the girl at the counter if she was absolutely sure there would not be any technical difficulties. “If they do have it” I said, “you’re going to have to take your pants off this time and start making a point that you are also experiencing technical problems with your dick at this moment and start swinging it around.”

Thankfully, there were no technical problems.

It reminded me of the time the ex took off his pants on MAS in the 40 min before departure (actually it was Heathrow so it is likely this waiting time was significantly longer). He wanted to make a point about what lousy cunts they were, not turning on the air-conditioning before take-off because they were being cheap arse.

“Please put your pants back on sir.” Said the stewardess, trying not to laugh. “It’s hot. It’s unhealthy for the certain anatomical details that males are fortunately or unfortunately endowed with. You miss, do not have such a problem. It is easy for you to say.”

He finally did put his pants back on, when they fired up the air-conditioner. Surprisingly, other passengers found it most amusing.

I did visit him on Sunday. It was quite nice to see the old dog again. We talked about a couple of things we never did talk about since we broke up because most of the time our drinking sessions were filled with stories of new found depravity, like the Celing Penis and other adventures. I won’t say I was the best girlfriend ever, but he did realize there were a lot of things he gave me a hard time for that he shouldn’t have. At least I didn’t compel him to start wearing latex gloves everytime he cooked, or to use chopsticks to hold his cigs when he wanted a fag. And I never demanded or will ever demand that any man I date should be something straight out of Sex and the City because life would be quite boring them. I think even if I were to meet such a man, the story would turn out different anyway. If I have fantasies, it’s tuned more towards Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, not cocktails and multi-speed vibrators in New York. I mean, that’s nice, but just a bit ordinary to be a fantasy. Fantasies should ideally be dangerous.

He told me that there was a certain kind of girl called a checklist girl. A checklist girl is a type of girl that has a list in her head for what she would like a man to be, and reads Twilight… without barfing. I know many of those girls. It’s not that awesome men that are intelligent, good-looking, rich and have a big dick and know how to use it do not exist. They do, and in significant quantities. Like Pokemon, you’ve gotta catch ‘em all. But everyone has some stupid shit that makes them not 100% perfect. If you know how to accept it and deal with it, you can have a lot of fun because the road of the beaten track is the fun bit when you’re driving.

Shake of the glitter and climb out of th epyre of broken glass and religious monuments.

Merry fucking Christmas. I hope y’all had a good time. because I know I did. There was not a moment of sobriety to be had from Thursday till Monday morning, and it was just the way I liked it.

My Christmas prep was absolutely haphazard. But whatever, all I had to do was get some books for Tom and a couple of other nerdy friends after my own heart. I was talking with a friend about vibrators and presents for his girl, and I told him that he absolutely had to get her one because sex without a vibrator is like coffee without caffeine. Or like mash potatoes without celeriac. Mince pies without brandy butter. Apple pie without ice-cream. A g-spot without fingers. Etc.

Tom kicked off the lunch at around 1. I missed the popping of the first champagne, which is a pity. Apparently the cork flew out, knocked the red lantern above the dining table off it’s hook, causing it to fall quite spectacularly on Mark W’s head(while he was accusing people of being racist…he’s Welsh… apparently this fact is important) before launching itself onto an empty champagne glass in front of him and breaking it. This made his fairly pissed off and did nothing for his headache, and he accused C (who popped all the champagne that afternoon. 15 bottles of Piper and M & C) of flashing her left nork at some point while she was hogging one of the bottles.

C: I did not flash it.
M: Yes you did. I saw it.
C: There’s a tattoo there, what is it?
M: A nipple.

The turkey was awesome, the mash had loads of celeriac, the stuffing had everything that was called for in it, and…uh… the brussel sprouts were buttered. Then it was time to exchange presents and I went under the tree and got something that felt like a DVD. “Gee… I wonder what are the chances of this being a porn movie I’ve been in?” It was the Hangover. Whatever, I changed it for a box of Macaroons, which then got exchanged for a pair of M and S striped nighties, which are just cute but unfortunately came with L sized men underpants which just won’t go away now. The idea was that if I somehow managed to get all my clothes off again as I did last Christmas, I would have spare pants lying around so someone could put me back into clothes without problems.

B called me to wish me a Merry Christmas, which was really nice.

Me: How’s the woman situation? You know I always want to know this about you.
B: It’s good man. I have a lover in Vienna now. A Chinese girl.
Me: Haha yeah I know you like them.
B: Also one in Budapest. It’s just good.
Me: Sounds awesome. I didn’t think you could have only just one anyway…

He’s a dog but I love him. Although I still sometimes feel pissed that he told Ash I wasn’t his girlfriend when I was there this summer and she was hanging out with us. But I probably have a more liberal definition of what it means to be someone’s girl/boy. Anyway it’s just really nice to know I’m kind of special to him in some way. Friends are harder to find and make then lovers, and a relationship that is both is even harder to come by. The best thing you can find is a kindred spirit….

On Boxing day I went to catch Infected Mushroom with Joris. Elizabeth was supposed to be there, but she sent me a text later saying “Thank Goodness you didn’t come, some rock trance band was playing and too many people”. I went huh? Damn girl… I spazzed out, foamed at the mouth and had a religious experience. How can you not love Isreali hard house. Man! It was awesomeness.

J and I stumbled out drunk after the club closed and I bumped into LR who introduced herself to J and explained how we both knew each other (basically, “We slept with the same guy”). We were both completely off our tits on the music and soaking in our own sweat and wandering around the area talking shit and laughing and shouting at random things and cabs that wouldn’t pick us up. We did this for a bit… then we passed a little chapel with the nativity in cheap plastic in front of it. The gates were open and I thought… “Oh no… do we dare…?”

“Let’s go in.” I suggested. J said okay so we went past the gates and poked around in the manger with the plastic mannequins of the holy family, wise men, sheep and other assorted hobos.

We then went on into the chapel. The doors were not locked. There were a few benches and a small alter on a podium, and a cross that filled up the entire wall behind it.

“I’ve always wanted to fuck in a church.” I said.

“Yeah?” He looked at me with the kind of look that said I’m up for that and serious about it.

I laughed with just a llllittle bit of nervousness… “Should we?” I asked.

Me: Oh no… this is sooo bad…
Him: Why is it bad? Be rational. You don’t believe in God.
Me: No you’re right. Anyway religion is evil.
Him: That has nothing to do with it.
Me: Do you want to?
Him: Why not.
Me: Oh man. Nah, no… Oh… I don’t know. Oh

It was kind of weird. I don’t know why I was hesitating. Probably because we were trespassing… Because I don’t normally have an issue with fucking in public places. We ended up going back out to get a beer. He asked me if I wanted to go back, and I said yes, and so we went. He put me on the alter and we fucked. It was ridiculously good. I was also very drunk and could not come properly, and seriously the thought “shit, God is punishing me for this… I will never be able to have an orgasm ever again…” actually crossed my mind. But soon left (and was soon disproved anyway). It was really exhilarating just to do something so so naughty. It’s just one of those damn things I’ve always wanted to do… possibly to get back at all the painful, deluded moments I had when I was growing up Christian and in fear of so many imaginary things.

The light in the chapel was lovely. Really dark, with some shafts of silver through the roof… I was really thrilled, and at first I was anxious about getting caught, but after awhile a switch turned itself off, and I just got into it.

Boo yeah.

I will carry on in another post….

Meddling Chicks

How come come chicks who have no clue as how to handle their own love lives attempt to interfere with everyone else's. Tsk. Mine is running very well, thank you very much. A little left of center perhaps, but just the way I like it.

I met M last night after dinner with my mom and sis (oh lord, it's been awhile since I saw my family. Guilt, guilt, guilt). I was seriously pissed before that because I was feeling kind of ill and I just didn't the situation going anywhere or being any fun anymore. But ugh. I don't know what's it with him, but he said hi as I walked past him at the bar and I just went in my head, "Oh lord." I introduced him to MJ as my "pet" and okay, he's not really my pet, that's just a bit ridiculous, but he's got that way of looking and behaving towards me that just makes me feel like it's not an unreasonable description. Besides I can't stay mad at someone I'm meeting, otherwise it'll just be negative utility for everybody's time, and we don't want that, do we.

The thing I was hugely pissed off at was that he actually cared what his girl-friends thought of me. I mean, who gives a shit? They'll complain when their with you, but when they're not, they ain't thinking about it. The one who's gotta live with the shit is you and the other person involved. They have their own lives to deal with, and the more they interfere in other people's biz, the bigger the problems in their own lives. So you know, fuck it.

We're back to just hanging and chillin and having fun... he's great in controlled doses. All men are. You can't spend all your time with one person, then there'll be nothing new to talk about and you kind of... stagnate. Okay, maybe not after a few days, but it's scary how easily you can start to melt into people and how easily they can melt in to you.

Two and a halfsome.

The Christmas season arriving always brings about strange and most entertaining nights and days out. Nic had just gotten back to Sing after a trip around the UK and wanted to meet for a chat about some film stuff on Friday night. I was just back from 2 hours at the gym and coming down Concerta (which is like Ritalin, but better) and wasn’t feeling in top shape to head out straight away, so we hung around for a couple of hours talking shit and chilling out. By the time we got to Clarke Quay at 2 a.m. there wasn’t very much left by way of entertainment … most of the expat population seemed to have left town to spend Christmas with their families and to enjoy a coked out New Years’. We went into Sluttica (always guaranteed amusement) for drinks and I ended up dancing on the electronic floor at 5 in the morning, trying to avoid drunks that looked terrible to start of with and looked even worse while drunk, desperate and dancing. The only thing I was doing was dancing. Nic however was intercepted by a Japanese girl at the bar, and refused to come and dance. Which was possibly a good thing. I wouldn’t know.

The club shut, we left, and there was some talk of where to head down to. The girl asked if we were a couple several times, and no amount of fervent denial would keep her from asking. She stayed with us though, with no intention to leave, that much was obvious. Nobody could suggest anywhere to go, and after a failed attempts to find anywhere sufficiently amusing, we headed back to my place. So we were all having a drink and talking about random things when we came to the topic of the girl’s love life. It turned out to be quite a bad idea, but I guess she wanted to talk about it, and kind of guided the conversation to that direction. I don’t know why most women don’t just go straight to the point. If they want to talk about their love lives, they should just do it.

I watched Fight Club last night, and there was this bit where Marla Singer finishes Edward Norton’s sentence after he says “When people think you’re dying, they really, really listen to you, instead of just.. Marla Singer ” instead of just waiting for their turn to speak.” Conversation with friends and strangers is just personal therapy, and important part of life, and it’s a pity when people can’t speak their minds to the ones they love the most. In fact, it is almost certain that a majority of people never do that, which is why love is a word that doesn’t agree with me.

She did not tell us much, but the basic thing was that her fiancee died. Then she started crying her eyes out. To be honest I don’t know what the fuck was going on. First she was talking about one of them cheating on the other, then she said he died. Whatever, it was weird. Nic said later that he thought it might have seemed a little creepy when we were handing her tissues and saying it was alright. Perhaps, but she started it. She calmed down and then asked if she could kiss Nic. I told her it was him she wanted to kiss, not me, they could do whatever the hell they wanted, I would encourage it. Then I went to the bathroom. When I came back she was on top of him and in her underwear. So they started making out and at some point all her clothes came off and I went into my bedroom to get condoms. I stuck them in Nic’s shirt pocket and gave him a yeah-go-for-it-baby, smile-smile, wink-wink. They started doing it on the couch and the girl asked me to take off my clothes, which I did. Unfortunately at the point I wasn’t particularly interested in getting it off with Nic, and she wasn’t particularly interested in getting off with me, so I went back to my room and decided it would be a good idea to take a photo.

It looks quite artistic when severely cropped and placed under Photoshop’s cut-out filter. Like the photo that was evidence of the time I got nuts and made Drake paint random shit from my tits to my crotch, the message was “MY EDEN” in psychedelic red , orange and yellow. with arrows and circles. It was like… Tasteful…man… In a way only contemporary, post-society, post-everything type of art can possibly be.

She left at 7, and we went to the sauna. It made me feel really good. Especially after dipping into the pool. I don’t get to see early mornings that often, so it was a treat.

To be continued in another post…..

I Tell You That I Love You Today

Your body is all angles and veins,
Face, Perfection, in Dual Tone.
Your Reason defined in discrete steps,
I feel I understand.

You ignore my subtle deviances,
And make love to me,
For the greater good.

My Precious Heart,
You shatter into little bits,
Sprinkle on a Dadaist collage,
As I make my stand on a cabaret stage.

Where liberal values devour a naked audience of voluptuous flesh,
Over-fed by the prices of prints,
That mock them and extol them.

Baby tell me that the demise of society,
Should be welcomed with the acceptance of over-abundance,
In this surreal fantasy of corn-fed violence.
That is our bedroom, our apartment,
Our phallic projectile of glass and steel and concrete,
Inserted deep into the bowels of Mother Earth,
(The adulterous bitch to bring forth life of such variety).

Let us drive across the continent of Europe,
That is so wide, mien Herr,
Which I promise you is not the case,
With the space between my legs,
My dear.

Hurtle down a highway,
Between politics and aesthetics,
Into a tunnel where at the end, there is no light,
And we fling ourselves into the singularity.

The Significance of Philip's goatee...

Phillip shaved his goatee off for November. His post here.

I had just shaved off my goatee but she didn’t say anything. That’s right. She looked at me for a second trying not to feel uncomfortable, then she looked away, and then I had to TELL her I had shaved and then she leaped into the air screaming in laughter, realizing what it was that was freaking her out…

I’m not very good at noticing details in everyday situations and things around me. I can get obsessed with them if it’s a particular thing or subject I’m interested in, but not without a conscious effort.

I was talking to Tom yesterday about this (everyone I know has problems with their hair… and you don’t want to know mine. Ugh. Wax on, wax off). I was reminded of this book I read years ago titled “On Intelligence” by Jeff Hawkins, founder of Palm Pilots and inventor of handwriting recognition software (someone else was there first, but he made a better, cheaper one). The book was about the difference between computers and the human brain and the difference in how we perceived and responded to the external world.

Basically, robots take in visual information about the object and then compare it to its database of stored objects. After which they then they tell you if it’s a table, toy car, an reconstituted beef burger or your late buddy Bruce. You can help a robot better refine it’s comparing skills, and soon it will be able to tell the difference between a table and chair, a toy car and a toy truck, it might one day be able to tell a beef kebab from a mutton one and that your friend Bruce with a goatee and without a goatee, is still the same person. (I know there is sophisticated software in CCTVs that can measure eye span, face width, nose bridge etc up to a very accurate degree, despite arbitrary disguises like beards, mustaches and facial tattoos). But it will not think like a higher order mammal.

The thing is, human beings are obnoxious, and a lot of what we ’see’ as being ‘the external world’ is what we assume it to be from past experiences. We only ever register the differences. It makes things simpler. That way we don’t have to compare every point of a particular object with the memory of another object like it in order to determine what it is.

When I look at Phillip, I expect him to look a certain way and I simply assume that he does. I have already established in my head that this is the way he looks, and it is not necessary to re-evaluate how he looks every time in order to have a conversation about other people’s beliefs (economic, spiritual or otherwise). However when there is a mismatch between what is assumed and expected and the visual stimuli actually received, something in our brains go “… hang on a second…” Now if it was a huge tash he had grown, I would probably have noticed it, but no sensible man in the 21st century would find it fashionable to have his facial hair dominate his features…

I think the first reaction we have to most things that contradict our internalized model of the world is indignation. It’s “What’s wrong with you? Why don’t you fit into my mental model?” From there, we then try and figure out what this difference is, and recalibrate this view of the world. Basically, we project our views on the world and then take in the external stimuli and compare the two if there is a mismatch. Robots take in the information, and then compare it with previous ‘experience’. We predict, they don’t.

Party at Home Club

Last night was fun. I kind of told myself I didn't really want to go to anymore of the parties for exchange students, but it was cheap, and the guy was selling the tickets at Raffles City, so there was no reason not to.

Liz came over for dinner (late as usual), and then I got a call from Thomas who is this Finn I met through a random add on facebook (his profile pic showed of a nice body... six pack, nice arms, yeah) asking if he could come over for a shower, because the shower at his gym in Cairnhill was out of service. This is quite a bit more random then it seems. I had only met him once before at Zouk, and he was there with some chick, and I had just come by from a somewhat frustrating, threesome with a Norwegian guy I sure as hell wasn't supposed to fuck. He was a weird one, anyway that was weeks and weeks back.

So Thomas calling me was pretty damn random, but anyway I was glad to have him over and I made them all tequila shots and the I got dressed and we went to Home Club. Everyone there was pretty young, the oldest kids were my age, the rest were younger. They kind of behaved really young too. But I love boys and some of them were really cute. There was this blonde Dane that was totally adorable! Like oh my god. With pink cheeks. Haha!

Sven was there (oh man). I swear to god, I still have this thing for him, but yeah he doesn't really like me and he's so young and German (I never understand Germans, unless they're from Bavaria). Anyway I got up this morning (finding a huge bruise on my knee, broken glass on the floor, and thinking, "Shit. I slapped Sven". I certainly remember hitting someone. I texted him and apparently I did hit him, but... whatever. He didn't take it personally. I find it quite funny actually, but what else is a spoilt little girl supposed to do in a situation like this? Haha, it was the second time I hit a guy I reckon, the first time was in Budapest when Barna and I stopped seeing each other for 10 days (because he made me angry) and he turned up at a random flat party, and I administed a roundhouse kick onto his hip. My friend had to break up the fight, but I wasn't really angry and I think he knew it. It was just my strange way of having fun.

Notes on the Personal User Manual.

From my other site: Babelogic.net which has other stuff.

There are a few sites I visit regularly for pure entertainment value. Apart from Facebook, which is kind of lame because no one except me ever posts really cool stuff on a regular basis, okCupid is another one. It’s got a good algorithm that matches people really well on the cerebral interests front, and it has got fun tests that you can learn absolutely random facts from, like which planet rotates clockwise (Venus). Sometimes you also come across really funny profiles. I have copied and pasted the profile of some random cute nerd that had decided to put his selling points and his warning signs all into one funny “User Manual”. I think it’s a good idea because it makes really mundane and tedious things light-hearted and fun. If he had put it in another way, it would have just made for a rather obnoxious profile (IMHO).

Also, it is interesting to me because I have been reading quite a lot of experimental fiction lately, and different ways to string a narrative is an obsession. Of course this is someone’s dating profile, so it is not art, but it is a good idea. The other 2 instances of experimental narrative I have been thinking about are the description of someone’s personal space over a length of time (which has been used before, but the only one I know of is a poem), and the index of someone’s biography (from Ballard’s Drowned World). I should start thinking harder and keep a collection of different types of ways to tell a story, it could make for an awesome novella. (I have pretty much decided that I don’t ever wish to write a full-length work of fiction because I lack verbosity -blogging is easy! Try writing 60 000 words, which is the lower limit of the average length of a novel… And I also lack sufficient working memory capacity).

Anyway, the pasted profile (he apparently also rides horses for a hobby, which I find quite charming.):

USER MANUAL read carefully!

Thank you for choosing this model of person. This version includes the advanced feature of Working Module (WM), which guarantees that this person is willing to work and make money for his future family, he enjoys both physical and cerebral works. Note that this person cannot be exposed to extreme emotions, the Empathy Training Module (ETM) is not included. Exposing to high level of emotions may cause malfunctions and stop the valuable feature, thinking algorithm. We are proud to introduce the new and improved Shopping Module, which is capable of spending money in book store, further tests required, but the recent tests show that this person cannot be used for shopping in clothing related stores. Version includes Entertainment Function, which works regularly on better days, also includes optimistic parameters. If the person looks frozen, wave your hands in front of his eyes, to catch his attention, most possibly he is only thinking. If he smiles during this time, that means he found out how to rule the world or maybe he is daydreaming about something. This person includes wide knowledge of random facts and high performance ability of learning. Also runs a well working tennis module.

1. The person can NOT read others’s minds. He won’t find out what is your problem. Voice or written conversation are required to send him a problem, and he will attempt to solve it.

2. The person can NOT reincarnate. Don’t kill him.

3. The person can NOT dance. This feature can be added to his repertoire by teaching him.

4. The person can NOT be fed by fast foods, raw meats, and most snacks.

5. The person requires loyalty, and gives loyalty.

6. The person can NOT watch Hollywood-made romantic movies.

7. The person needs at least 6 hours of sleeping each day.

8. The person won’t go to parties each weekend.

violating these points there is a risk of losing the long life warranty.

Mannerism and the Sex Drive of the Mistress.

From now on, I will be posting links to all my new blog posts here.

My new blog is found at www.babelogic.net

Less sex, more art and admittedly a lot of sex and art.

Mannerism and the Sex Drive of the Mistress.

Finnish Men

Finnish men are a taciturn lot. It's true, they are really fluent at keeping silent in two language. It used to be Finnish and Swedish, now it's Finnish and English. An outgoing Finnish man would be considered introverted anywhere else in the world. I have met talkative Finns, it's when they've had several cases of beer and I have gotten used to the general lack of conversation. Finns believe that silence is golden, and they will inform you of how much you talk when you talk too much. They love their personal space and are good at all sport that does not require other people to play with and is life endangering (with the exception of ice-hockey), these are such things as Formula 1 racing, Cross- country skiing, marathon running in the middle of winter, Motorcross racing etc.

They take everything seriously, even when really drunk, they seldom will say or do something they do not mean. When they get to that point, it is the point of passing out. When you ask them a question, they will think about it for a long time before answering (sometimes as long as 20 minutes in a running conversation) and the answer will be very detailed and accurate -try asking for directions in Finland, you'll see what I mean- or they will simply refuse to answer because they don't have the time to think of the right one.

Finns do not believe there is such a thing as an uncomfortable silence. It is a good thing to learn. It is better to have someone with nothing better to say to shut up and to babble on.

Potential Boyfriend names:

Ari
Aalto
Herkko
Janne
Jukka
Karri
Lasse
Lauri
Pekka
Eetu

Notice anything? They are all 2 syllables, usually with a repetition of one letter. I was joking with a Finnish friend that all the male names sound kind of the same... he smacked me on the head and pointed out that I was always getting the name of the fortress island (Suomilinna) with the name of this special shot (Salmari). Anyway, Finnish is an impossibly difficult language to learn but with very straight forward pronunciation. The syllables sound the way they look.

Four insights into Finnish Culture

Finnish Dogs

They are rather furry, generally well behaved, and do not bark. TBH, I didn't see that many around.

Finnish Driving

Finland has some of the best Formula One drivers in the world. Finnish men know how to drive, they all rode their first moped when they turned 8, and I have heard stories of little boys being made to drive little go carts or motorcycles on a track even when they have barely learnt to walk. If your riding with a Finn, you can trust your life with him. I was half asleep on Jukka's motorbike (the upper half), and I'm still alive. In all Scandinavia, the fines are according to your income, after tax, so the richer you are, the more you are taxed. But it doesn't really matter because no one speeds anyway. They drive at the speed limit because it's the speed limit. They won't cross the road even if there are no cars going by because the light hasn't turned green.

However, all rules go to shit when they are having a race. (I saw this on Top Gear, no shit) A group of Finns, including housewives, teenage girls, a retired old men and a little boy who has just grown tall enough to see over the dashboard take battered old cars from the 70's into the forest and have a race. The teenage girl beat one of the regular English drivers on Top Gear. 

Finnish Theft

HUH? You don't even have to be afraid of the homeless drug addict lurking around in the park (unless it's the rapist park... apparently one of them in Helsinki has been dubbed exactly that). In Finland, and actually the rest of Scandinavia, everyone believes in making their own way in life, through honest means. It's so pervasive you start worrying if you are being as equal and honest with them as they are with you. Anyway theft is not necessary, the government is rich enough to take care of everyone, and anyway, Finland is not a materialistic society. Everyone is either comfortable or moderately rich.

How to meet Him.

Good luck! I mean it. Finland, like most rich, atheistic, Western societies has a population with a high rate of casual partners, and you can guess how that happens despite the guys seemingly painful shyness for most of the week, with the exception of Fridays and Saturdays. All men are easy when they are drunk enough not to be self-conscious, and the Finns will drink till they are boderline comatose so they can approach a girl (I met two guys on the boat from Stockholm to Helsinki who told this to me as a reason why Finnish males drink so damn much). But don't worry, he'll buy his own drinks, you just have to wait till 4 a.m. before advancing.

There is also the slow and steady way. Finns really appreciate friendships that will last, and if you have the time, you should take your time to get to know some Finnish guys over an extended period. Just ask them out here and there for a case of beer, or two, and sooner rather than later, you'll get what you want. But you have to look very closely for the signs that show he is interested, because it's subtle. Really fucking subtle. And you will have to make the first move. Don't expect a Finnish guy to call you or ask you out, he won't, even if he really wants to. With the exception of the times when he is drunk, it is 4 in the morning, and you're asleep.

Tips for the date

All Scandinavia is an equal society and everyone pays their own way. The men will buy a drink or two for the girls, but at a dinner, everyone pays their fair share. The women wouldn't have it any other way.

Finns are punctual, a 2 minute delay to them is late, but they are also very patient and well-tempered. And unlike Germany (with the exception of Bavaria, as I have realized) some rules can be broken if it makes everyone happier, or if it makes sense. He will tell you to hurry up, and you should, but nobody will get angry as long as you inform in advance.

A Finn will not hit on you, even when he is really drunk, and even then he might not do so. So if at the end of the date, you would want something more, you have to make it obvious. You know how all French men assume you would sleep with them if you go out on a date? Finns are the exact opposite. The only time he will hit on you is when you are in his bedroom. And even then.

If however you do not make it to that stage, he will give you a detailed description of the most optimal route you should take to get home, along with details of the length of time you will take to walk it. On weekends, this would be a description of the night bus, and he will find out the time table for you on his blackberry.

What you should know about Finland

 Finns love their country and they know a lot of contemporary details about it (especially concerning Formula One racing), but not a great deal of historical stuff. The first thing I learnt about Finland after Nokia was what a fantastic guy Kimi Räikkönen was, this was accompanied by You Tube videos of the guy falling off the roof of his yacht drunk on champagne. The second thing is that the landscape is all lakes and that it is the country that is the world's top supplier of ice-breakers.

In all of Scandinavia, the sale of alcohol is controlled by the state and you can only purchase hard liquor outside bars at the Alko store, but beer and long drinks (a Finnish invention) are sold at supermarkets. No alcohol is sold after nine, and the Alko is closed on weekends.

Impressing his mother

 Finnish moms are cool. They ride motorbikes, cook good food and drink beer. It's an egalitarian society, an on top of that, most Scandinavians don't understand racism. People are people whatever the age, or colour, and you'll be treated like a friend and offered lots of beer.

Finnish girl competition

You're more likely to make friends with one than compete. All the girls will end up hanging around together complaining about how the men never talk, and how to get them to talk. Most likely, all the chicks will gang up to try and get the guys drunk faster. The girls are all feminized (Finland after all has the 2nd female president after New Zealand) and there is a genuine feeling of 'Hey sister' vibe when you hang out.

When you want him to go away.

Finns are practical, and they know it when something is not right. You don't have to do anything, in fact nothing needs to be said. The right solution will happen. Finns think everyone else is talking too much about how they feel and they feel this is unnecessary. Why say something or ask questions to something that is already apparent? In Finland, many things happen without a lot of words being said.

FUEL Party!

Come and play! We'll be partying till dawn!
Darren Emerson and Samantha Ronson at the F1 pit stop!

Xoxo