Doris: The story of a summer afternoon and the next morning day.
“Hey Don, do you like this blue straw hat?”
“Uhm, looks pretty cool. Kinda vintage. Do you wish I buy it?”
“For you or for me?”
“For both of us.”
“Okay. How do I look?” Says Doris probing the hat in front of no mirror.
“Fabulous.” Exclaims Don in total amazement, before grabbing the hat to probe it for himself. “And how about me?”
“Like a pimp.” Responds Doris after losing her hat. “Ain’t it a ladies hat?”
“Let me see. It writes here: Unisex. Hah, we’re unisex. Suits us.”
“Told you so.”
“You’re always right, honey. That’s my last word.”
“Ah, you remember that joke from our wedding.”
“Your pals poking fun at you, Don. You’ll always have the last word in marriage, saying: you’re right, honey. Haaah, haaah, haaah.”
“Well, seems that they were quite right, too. Don’t you think?”
“Put that hat in the caddy, grab some carrots and push it to the cashier, will ya?”
They bring groceries home to the kids, she gets dinner ready, he gets another episode of ‘Friends’ ready. They cuddle, answer mail, spend some time in the garden.
“Don, have you left the hat in the car?”
“On the back seat. Covered with a bag.”
A very short night comes and goes. Kids wake up, have breakfast, ride their bikes to local arts or sports fellowships. Doris and Don remain home alone.
“Get the camera. I’ll get the hat!”
Ensues the well known and quite expected morning photo sitting. Today centered around the pimp hat, as Doris called it. Why call it a pimp hat? Why not a retro hat?, or simply a straw hat?, or just a blue hat?
Doris: Would you base your marriage on porn?
Well, my marriage is the conclusion of such a breathtaking love affair that started in the hot summer of 1987, in a boot camp. I knew it was the real thing, from the beginning.
I was the ambitious one who believed that playing by the rules and reaching the top of the system will mean something in changing it, for the better. Later I discovered that playing ball would only change you, for the worse.
He was the rebellious one who wished, still does, to take me to the stars.
I don’t know if they used the term ‘man cave’ back in the 1980s but I certainly knew what that is when stepping down the stairs – into his basement. Yes, an entire basement served as a little empire to him. Posters with planes, bikes, cars almost made me miss the page with a naked girl, shredded out of a French magazine. His library captivated me.
Little I knew, at that time, about what they used to call the video nights. This needs an introduction to the context of the late 80s on the Eastern side of the Iron Curtain. A great deal of Western movies were banned by the communist regime. Any kind of pornography was deemed illegal. There was no internet.
Most of his colleagues were living in the campus, in dorms with apparent rules, under the threat of being punished or expelled for breaking named rules. But he lived in his parents’ house basement. All by himself. At night at least.
On a borrowed VHS video player, they were collectively wasting nights watching the adventures of Chuck Norris in Vietnam, but also cute comedies for the girls and, yes, hardcore porn.
My education, my beliefs, my Weltbild were altogether from a different plane of existence. Not only that I condemned such decadence but[…] Keep reading on Amazon.