Philos, Eros, Agape (Juniors in general)

Member Name: Cammij

Product:	Juniors in general
Date:	24/02/03 (235 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: learn a lot, learn to feel and give, experience

Disadvantages: pain, hurt, loss of passion

Hello, I use Dooyoo as a tool of my own introspection and right now I am going through a very nasty divorce and have pondered "love" quite heavily. I am forced to think about all the love lost in my life, and wonder what I did wrong. Unfortunately Englisch is a very lacking language when it comes to love, linguistically we are quite impoverished when it comes to love, you hear the eskimos have like 27 words for snow, yet us unromantic Saxons have one solitary word for the concept of love. It doesn't seem right.

I remember the first girl I was totally fascinated with. I was 12 years old and her name was Katrina. I had this girlfriend at school named Mindy. She had an older sister and that older sister had the friend Katrina. I would go and see Mindy at the skating rink and we would hold hands and skate together during the couples skates. But my favorite part of these dates was that Katrina was invariably there. She was 17. She wore tight black jeans and had short brown hair. I was just fascinated by her. She was also a mud shark. I don't know if that was part of her appeal or not. But I loved her so much, just to look at her at watch her was so exciting. Then she got killed in a car wreck. It was the first experience I had with death, except my Great Grandfather. I cried myself to sleep for weeks, unable to accept that she was dead.

My next infatuation was with my friend Tim's sister. Her name was Amy. Tall slender, short blond hair, perfectly waif slim. She was about 2 years older than me. I remember going over to Tim's house and just clinging to each and every word she uttered. She was such a doll. I secretly hoped that someday I could grow up and she would see me and fall in love with me. I especially liked how she looked when she rode her moped around. I just remember that. I have never seen a girl more beautiful than her, ever. I remember one summer night, staying at Tim's house and out of boredom she was hang
ing out with us and playing borad games and what not with us along with Tim's mom. We ended up playing that quasi occult game "Light as a feather stiff as a board" where you try to do levitation. I actually got to touch her. It was the best moment of my life, laying my hands on this perfectly cut gem of a female, albeit just my fingertips. We talked about a lo0t of morbid stuff that night, funerals, death, dying and all that. she went to a party the next night and stepped out on the road and got hit by a car and killed.

Sadly enough this wasn't my last loss. When I was in Bosnia in 1992 a distant cousin of mine, a true angel, the most beautiful girl ever named Dina took her own life. I loved her but never had tried to hook up with her. She was so hot in her way, most people would call her scarwny, but I thought of her as delicate. She was so charming, I remembered her from when we were 5 years old at Vacation Bible School. I always loved her. Then while I was off saving the Serbs I wasn't there to save one of my own people and she had been through a bad breaqkup and took her own life. I wondered what would have happened if I could have been there for her. If I could have been there to be her friend and more. If I could have had my head on straight enough to give her hope and strength. But i wasn't I was playing some macho juvenile games to punish my family for not paying for my tuition and I let the most wonderful girl die alone.

I never opened my heart again for 5 years after Amy got killed. I had my share of fun and girlfriends but nothing normal. I began my dark odyssey of discovery about sexual relations. I found that poor girls and girls from bad families were much more likely to try to please a man sexually and were far more giving and needing of love and an affirmation of self worth that they derived by sex. I became trapped in a mind set of only dating poor girls or immigrants. It was so much less of a hassle
than dealing with girls from nice homes, the type that were in my academic track. I think at an early age those girls learned at home, from their mothers or step mothers that sex is some kind of tool to use to manipulate and control men. They don't watch porno and try to please men.

Then we had a senior class trip with the international relations club to a Model United Nations in Washington DC. We were from a small school in the Midwest so we got countries like Rwanda and Djibouti to represent while the rich Seaboard schools got to be CCCP or USA and boss people around. I was on drugs and would get up in this conference about Chemical warfare and try to make speeches but I couldn't talk because I was so high. All the slackers thought this was funny so they gave me their placards (like the Soviets made Poland hand over their placard at one point and the moderator, a Gergetown grad student enforced this) so I could vote for them. I made
Bart Simpson a diety and furthermore had UNESCO build him a temple in Jerusalem to rule the world from. This angered a lot of the rich kids who actually got a grade for this program that they needed top get into a great Uni. Some of them got so frustrated that they cried and I liked that. I went to the dinner they had and gave the Keynote Speaker, the German ambassador Karl von Stattin a hard time. We had a shouting match in German in front of everyone when he denounced all claims to German territory East of the Oder. It was funny. I gave him hell. My Grandma would have been proud. Then there was the dance after the dinner.

I saw her coming towards me during the AC/DC song "Highway to Hell", a prettied up little Southern Belle named Kristin. Absolutely stunning, and she spoke with that enchanting musically honey coated Southern Drawl and I was gone with hello. It became the most passionate and deep romance I could ever imagine, and even 13 years later I can't imagine a person ever e
ntering so deeply into every facet of my life. I shared every little detail of my young existance with her, every thought, every ambition, every dream. We talked for hours on the phone every night, mailed letters to each other before and after school every day. I never cared so much about what about person thought, wanted and dreamed. We picked out names for the 4 kids that we would have and made all sorts of grandoise plans.They day of my graduation I flew down to see her for a week, the best week of my life. It would take me a zillion tonnes of viagra to repeat the feats I accomplished with that Averil Lavigne-looking hottie today. I never felt so connected and secure in such a time of confusion for me. I had absolutey no plans in my life. I had to wait another month to turn 18 so I could join the army since my mom would not sign for me and I had nothing on my mind except love.

Our distance relationship went on with as much fervor and passion while my world went crazy. I started college but joined the territorials. Then Saddam took Kuwait and my ass got sent to Texas and then Iraq and I could not write to her and call her all the time. Her parents got to her and convinced her that I was a pervert and bad person (it was true) she left me for a guy who drove a tow motor in a carpet mill. That hurt. I never got over her. I still have everything that she ever sent me. All her pictures, all the letters. I think about her all the time and I send postcards to her from every place I visit. But I never call. I know that I will never love anyone as totally, purely and openly as I loved her. Maybe it was naive and stupid to think at age 17 I could have known true love, but she supported my writing, my music, my ideas, something I never found again, a bitch who doesn't try to change me. Still to this day when I hear certain songs, "Cheap Tricks 'the Flame', or some Moody Blues 'Once upon a Time' I know these songs are about me and her. I wa
s able to seriously burn some bridges and get some closure in my next relationship, my Eros love.

I had this unhealthy obsession with a Dutch Porn Star that I discovered in Mark Long's Hustler magazine he had our first year of college. She was so hot. And she was Dutch. What could have been more perfect? I spent all my time thinking about this porn star and going all over town to all the dirty book stores to look for magazines with her in them. I never saw any of her movies, I didn't want to, I feared that it would somehow confuse and taint my image of her. I had to get newspapers from all over the state and Michigan and Indiana every week to see if she was coming to feature at any of the strip clubs in a 200 mile radius. She finally did. I showed up with a stack of great poems in hand, all in Dutch. I left with a kiss and a phone number and a one way ticket to insanity and a loss of my frail grip on reality. I remember that my boss was with me at the club, his last words as he left that night was "This is the shit we have always dreamed about, don't worry about coming back to work until you are ready". It was insane. I was sort of engaged to another girl, a nice enough girl but she had the potential to end up fat so I was leary and my mom and sister rode her and me unmercifully about her weight. But she was in The British Virgin Islands taking some stupid summer program so it wasn't cheating. It was awesome. I was so madly in love. the Dutch girl was going through a divorce at the time and had some other bad things come up in her life at the time due to the fact that her famous porno hubby was a coke head and had cancer. I helped her through all that and waited on her hand and foot when we were together. I was 21. Damn it was awesome. I took my little sister out with us one time, she was 14 and I took her out with a couple pronstars to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and my sister did the girls nails and hair for them.


My fiancee accused me of cheating with a K-Mart cashier when she came home from Tortola. She was actually impressed when I told her the truth and showed her some very bad polaroids that we had taken together. She was impressed and happy for me and told me to keep the affair in perspective. But the Ducth girl was kinda wild. I spilled my guts to her one night about Kristin and how she left me for a tow motor operator. So the Dutch porn queen and me made some really cool polaroids for Kristin and she wrote on them, "You like your carpet mill worker as much as Cammie likes me" and stuff like that. It was cool. I wish I had those photos. They rocked, and we mailed them to Kristin the next day. I hope that she was impressed. But my porn star, after totally distorting my perceptions of reality and twisting my expectatctions of life and women moved to Germany after her divorce was final and married a dentist and had two kids. heck this out, what do you tell your wife of 5 years when she asks "Am I the best lover you ever had?". What the hell do you say (mind you this is after she found part of my stash of my porn year momentos and knew about my having banged at least three of the pron stars). What do you tell somebody? How can anyone ever measure up to that standard? So that is why I am so messed up to this day, I peaked and reached my highest possible dreams at age 22, how could I ever be happy again? What else could be better? If anyone thinks I am full of shit I can send you pictures. I even got to be on the set where they made a movie one time and they used so lines that I thought up. There is no higher pinnacle of happiness.

My next first love is Philos. See in my town after the Scissor factory closed and the Meat packing place shut down there is little hopes of a young man getting to experience the finer things in life aside from finding an older male friend to endulge him. I would venture to say that this rampant homosexuality is acce
pted and many of the late teen boys get to see Venice or Miami courtesey of an older gentleman friend. Most parents coldy support it, if it is discreet and they understand. The only other chance to have a decent life is to hire out on the railway, but even there the pressure to couple up with an older mentor is strong, as the railroad is a stereotypical "gay" industry in America. I resisted lll the temptations to become gay for awhile. Most parents support it, as long as the man is a gentleman, a professor, artist, business owner or theater director or something. Then I met Wayne. He was a minimum wage van driver contracted out to the railroad. I just knew when I met him the first time and heard him talk about how him and his friends were going camping in his van that weekend that I wanted to go camping with him in his van and be his servant and slave. He was fat and uneducated and rather oafish but I was blinded by his sensitivity and compassion. He was the first person that ever really seemed to be listening to me and cared what I said. A lot of people got on my case about his income and appearence but true love is blind to such things. I thought my father understood but when I brought Wayne to Christmas and we were opening presents my father put on the new leather gloves that Popeye gave him and Popeye was admiring the tow hitch strap dad had bought for him while Wayne sat curled up in the chair stroking our cat. Suddenly Popeye stepped behind the rocking chair that I was sitting in and bound me with the tow hitch between the slats of the chair and then with me immobile Popeye, my dad and my grandpa began beating up Wayne and calling him names. My grandpa was like 70 but was still in on it jabbing Wayne with a hot fireplace poker. I began to cry and at that point my mom bitch slapped me and called me a sissy and said , "Look at what he has done to you" and went over and gave Wayne a kick. Then my sister chased down the cat and took the cat ov
er to where Wayne was crumpled on the floor and made the cat scratch him. I cried and sobbed and siad, "He didn't even get to eat lunch" and that made my dad take a crock pot of hot barbequed hot dogs and dump them on Waynes head. The last I saw of Wayne was him staggering to his van, the hotdogs sauce steaming in the Crisp Christmas Air, crying. My dad punched me and told me, "This whole faggot thing ends now, its over" so then they made me take a medical leave from work and go to a program from a Church in Columbus that gets you to not be gay no more. And it worked. I went back to women, and I was married and stuff. But never have a loved again.

Until my trip to Spain. I met this girl. Stunning, absolutely an angel. She is a poet too. She was from Iowa but studying in York. She is perfect. I didn't think any women were out there that could really be my eros, philos and agape all together but she is it. I don't really think about banging her. I call her all the time and write to her a lot. She is so hot but that is secondary to the fact that I respect her and consider her an intellectual equal. I will be with her I know it. She is 10 years younger than me but she is cool with that. Unfortunately she saw the worst in me in madrid, taking Japanese tourists to watch me bang two Bulgarian whores at once, fighting people and being drunk. But she is from Iowa and respects that I am a tough guy and a real man. Most women want me to stop fighting but when I told her about my upcoming match all she said was "I wish i could be in your corner", is that awesome or what? She has to be my match, she shares my love of the written word, the passion of travel and appreciates my art and music. What else could I want in life. If I have any complaint about her it is that our kids will have red hair. I am so happy and free and excited to be alive because of her. I write her awesom poems and dream about her every day.

Summary: