sweden

Summer fling

A summer fling is something that you could describe as some type of relationship that exists only within the confines of the summer; often ending at the end before going back to school. They are fun, and free feeling, and from what I’ve read quite enjoyable and fleeting. And so dear reader, if you’re expecting me to describe a summer fling I had in 2018, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but no such thing existed. I will, however, delve into an experience I had about 10 years ago in the summer of 2009.

I was visiting a friend in Uppsala and while staying with him I met someone out while dancing. He said something poignant to me that piqued my interest and caused me to contact him via Facebook. His name, was Jonas, and with that message began what I would consider to be a short summer fling. We agreed to meet a few days later, a Tuesday, at The Heated Man which may or may not still exist in Uppsala. It was a bench that was heated somehow that I do not remember. I accepted the invitation and we met.

It was during this meeting, which I suppose could be called a date, that we flirted and discussed many a thing. We progressed to hang out at the park, and then I was bid adieu. What followed was what I consider to be the only time, ever in my life, that I was pursued by another person. Jonas would show up at my friend’s dorm room looking for me, he wanted to take me out for a drink, and a bit drunk one night came over in full white tie to find me on a cot and proceeded to cuddle me for a little bit. I didn’t know what was going on, I didn’t understand why this guy was into me, but I in my heart I loved it.

What followed was me going to visit a friend in Finland, and returning home, to still find him pursuing me. I was so flattered, I was so confused, I was so smitten that I simply didn’t know what to do other than to accept and show the same amount of interest. I didn’t know where he lived until one day that he walked me over, as we were out for a walk, and we had a chat as he was (if I remember correctly) moving out of that flat, or someone was moving. I remember being teased, in a good way, and feeling helpless at one point. I remember and to this day I can feel the intellectual connection that we shared.

And then summer ended and I went away, and left Sweden, unbeknownst to me not to return for another 9 years. What I left behind was something, to me so special and unique. What’s sad about it, is that 10 years later it hit me how important it was and how heartbroken I am over it. I never expected it to be this way, but it is to this day, the single only time that someone ever accepted me as I am, showed interest in a profound way, and pursued me.

It’s heartbreaking to think about it and wonder what has happened since, or rather what hasn’t happened since. What haven’t I done right over the last decade? What has been missing? What are my shortcomings, if any? I’m conflicted because I’ve lived my life trying to accept who I am, as I am, but this acceptance seems to completely contradict what others either see, or want.

As the memories and feelings grow more and more blurred and colourless, it leaves a thick clump in my throat and tears in my eyes.

Too ninja for Nigerian catfishing… what?

I’m willing to bet that nearly everyone that’s ever had an email address, ever, has at least at one time received an email from charming Nigerian Prince asking for marriage, money, or some other scam. I had always laughed about it, but never really made any sense to me. Like how do people actually send them money, or don’t they suspect, or what kind of ratchet street smarts do these people not have?

Anyways, how does this connect to me? Well since I lived in China, I’ve been connected on Chinese social media accounts that I check up on here and there. I sometimes get messages from people and I ignore it, but recently I’ve gotten a slew of really attractive guys chatting me up.

Cue to alarm bells ringing, red flags waving, and self doubts flying around like vultures in heat. While in China, I would get tons of people contacting me for no other reason that they want a foreign or white friend. Smooth. But never in my entire life have I been outwardly contacted or pursued by someone attractive.

Cause I, Cause do it better 😛

A post shared by Edson Santos (@edsonnsantos) on

So naturally, as you can probably imagine, receiving a photo like this is both surprising and raises suspicions right from the get go; like look at him, right?! Anyways, he’s chatting me up and I’m keeping it pretty vague and whatever, and then he’s like “Hey let’s move to Google Hangouts” and my immediate reaction is like, I haven’t used that in years but sure yeah whatever.

Then the ratchet mess starts asking me for photos, and I think. Hell to the no, I’m not born yesterday. I already suspected I was being catfished, so naturally I used my internet street smarts to say: I ain’t sending any photos until we video chat and I can see who you are. Seconds later, Video Call incoming. I tilted my phone upwards, and the video came in, pixelated and dark. I saw some faint lights in the background but then they disappeared.

“Where are you, where is your face?” blah blah blah. And then this person says “Oh sorry my webcam doesn’t work” and my immediate reaction was like who the hell uses a webcam anymore? Don’t we all just use our phones? Red flag again. I knew for a fact that the video worked because I saw light movements and if it didn’t work then it would have been all black or the profile picture shows. Luckily for me I didn’t display myself on video.

So flash forward 4 more call attempts and me keeping to deny it; I’m playing hard ball. So few days later this person is still hitting me up and whatever, and I’m out for some drinks with some friends. I tell them that I’m being chatted up by this person, show them a picture, and they are like wow. I say, I ain’t fooling I’m being catfished. So we drunkenly devise a plan to catch this catfisher. I reluctantly give my phone to a friend Alex and she proceeds to start a conversation, initiate some video calls. She’s talking to this guy, he’s not saying anything, and then the call drops. Here’s how the conversation proceeded:

We are laughing at this point, and as the 22:31 call starts, sure enough we find a Nigerian Prince on the screen and the jig is up. The girls tease a little bit, and I’m a bit irritated that I was correct. A sliver of hope existed that maybe this is real and there was some really hot guy into me, but alas it was not to be.

We wrapped up that mess for awhile, and then I went home. I felt invigorated to press this guy on why he’s catfishing and what the fuck basically. I’m able to find the original Instagram account of the guy he’s taken photos of, and then I screenshot some photos and DM the original guy to let him know his photos are being used. He laughs and thanks me, and I go back on my way doing a good thing.

But I’m getting this sap story from a guy in Lagos about how he poses to be hot gay guys in order to get money so he can get educated. I lecture him about if he’s got an internet connection he can educate himself instead of pretending to be other people. And he feels guilty; in other words I’m scamming a scammer.

According to what he’s saying, he feels really bad about what he’s done, discloses all the social media counts of his actual identity (pretty dumb eh?) and then tells me that he lives in a house of 5 other guys that are all scammers. They manage to get $5’000 from some people and this is what they use to support their families. It’s hilarious, but then I realise it’s really sad. Sad that these people have to go to such desperate lengths to scam people. Sure their living conditions are pretty bad, but from what Is saw, they were doing pretty well for themselves.

Thinking back, of course I got the scammer that revealed himself to me, the true empath inside gave me the power to set his spirit free. What’s the message of this storytime? Don’t get catfished and don’t send your photos online to strangers; you never know who could be behind that picture!

Breaking the Tinder Algorithm

The struggle is real; real like the extremely intense hunger for cake of a cake lover

It was unknown to me up until about five minutes ago that there actually is a Tinder Algorithm, or at least to online reports it seems to be legit. There is ELO scores and positive and negative affecters, and even a noob value. Up until that moment I just was making a joke when I said that I broke Tinder, but what do I mean?

Well, despite not being the most polished glass in the cabinet, so to speak, I figured I’d dabble in meeting some people and much as expected it has been a tragic tale. Firstly, in Sweden seemingly nobody actually replies to you when you get matched. It’s bizarre, and seemingly pointless.

Secondly, after a certain point you start to wonder if these people actually exist. Are these fake profiles of people that are being casual flirters, or are they legit human beings (sometimes you have to wonder…)

And thirdly, when you spend four months and get no more than 5 matches, you start to wonder about stuff. Am I too this, or too that, not enough this or not enough that, or simply undesirable? No matter, more fish in the sea, or so I’m told is the case.

It was all hunky dory until one moment that rocked the experience. I noticed in a profile that someone said they were looking for “the girl of their dreams” and I full stopped. The immediate thought that came to my mind is that this guy is heterosexual and why then is he showing up for me to swipe?

Then it extended into more thoughts and I wondered how many of the people that I swiped over the last 4 months were actually heterosexual as well? Given what I know about how things are here, I wouldn’t be surprised.

And that’s how I broke Tinder and its algorithm, and I think it now thinks that I’m a female. This might explain no matches in 3 months.

I met a celebrity, Oscar Zia

Despite the fact that my friends don’t appreciate this fact, or particularly know who the celebrity is, I’m still proud to announce that I met a celebrity.

I was on a party cruise, Viking Line’s Cinderella to Mariehamn, and to my surprise a musical artist and dancer that I’ve seen on TV and Melodifestivalen was the featured artist. I naturally got excited at this surprise and I of course made a point to be there before, during and after the performance.

His name is Oscar Zia and he is well known in Sweden, but not by foreigners. He sang with a neat cover band, and after his performance he appeared on the dance floor with a few friends.

My colleague and friend Elin saw this, and based upon the fact that I earlier said that he’s so cute, thought it was incumbent upon her to insist that I kiss him. Of course that was a crazy idea, being a stranger and all, and more importantly a celebrity (knowing how much crazy attention celebrities sometimes get). I rejected her idea. She persisted.

The next thing I knew, she grabbed me by the arm. Suddenly I realised that she also grabbed his arm and turned him around and then suddenly pushed us both together. Face-to-face with a twenty-year old extremely attractive celebrity, I stood completely still and in the balance held the pregnant awkwardness. I said hello, and she screamed for us to take a photo.

To give you a sense of how hot this guy is, here is a photo.

Vilka är ”alla andra artister” som ska gå på denna toalett???

A post shared by oscarzia (@oscarzia) on

And so we took a photo of us together, and I said thank you and moved on, embarrassed and shocked. Elin persisted and still thought I should kiss him, I laughed at her and said that she’s crazy.

And for the next 45 minutes or so (at least it felt like a long time), Oscar and his posse danced basically right next to me and the girls. My crazy dance moves seemed not to deter him or his group, and I was having difficulty believing that I was so close.

Elin persisted and kept telling me that I was sneaking peeks, and admittedly I did. I mean the guy is a 10, and I felt embarrassed. She seemed to be convinced that he was looking back, but I’m skeptical. Crazy dancing continued, and honestly I was most surprised that he didn’t run away like most people do when I’m dancing around them.

You may think, “What the hell is with this guy” or “What’s wrong with him”? Nothing, I just dance really expressively like it’s my last opportunity. It’s a bit intense, I suppose, much like me.

And so, upon reflecting on the evening who know’s what happened, or is going to happen. Maybe he was flirting with me and I didn’t realise it, maybe he thinks I’m a creepy fan (but I don’t think fan is the right word), maybe he thought I was flirting with him without me knowing, so many questions and only time will tell.

Or maybe it won’t…

Sweater Guy

Call him what you may, it might be Sweater Guy, Mr. Alaska, or perhaps even loverboy unless you ever figure out his name. And thus begins the story of an emotional disaster evening with me, yours truly.

I arrived at the Viking Line Cinderella cruise terminal bound for Mariehamn in Finland for what is well known as a rite of passage for Swedes; a massive party boat. My colleagues organised an event and it was visible from the beginning of the bus ride to Stockholm, that they were drinking heavily and would be for the whole time. I abstained until at least dinner time.

So we got to the terminal and waited for awhile socialising and then finally got onto the boat. We dropped our stuff into our cabins and we proceeded to a pub on the ship to sip a few down. We found a window area and everyone else engaged in getting drinks except me. We engaged in lovely chatting and people came and went as we remained.

One of the remained ones was a gentleman of a youngish nature who was hovering the island around us. We dubbed him Sweater Guy because it was obvious he was looking at us and trying to figure out if we spoke English. I couldn’t help but notice his attractiveness, but I resolved in chit chatting about him. A friend, Christina, and I decided to put bets on if he was British, American, or Swedish. He kind of looked like all of them combined but was a mix. I voted British, Christina voted American.

And so as our evening progressed, so did Sweater Guy for what seemed like an hour or so. We moved around a bit, she got up for a few drinks and the people in our group rotated to going up on the top deck for sunshine. It was too cold for me to consider it as I had no jacket. During this time we noticed this other guy drinking by himself in the same place, but instead he was staring at us in a less discrete way. We pondered what his intentions were, but secretly longed for Sweater Guy to return.

And return he did, and the moment our eyes laid on him we both giggled to each other like little schoolgirls. A new selection of friends had rotated to the bar, and we enlisted them to try to figure him out. Unsuccessful we were, and while I was finally feeling like I should get a drink, I was hesitant. Christina chastised me, because I was afraid and I didn’t know what I wanted to drink, but eventually I built up the courage to go and purchase a Happy Days which might have been the most delicious drink I had ever tasted, only 70:- later.

It was as I was turning away from the bar that I bumped into Sweater Guy and quickly said a quick “ursäkta” and scurried back to my spot at the window. After finally tasting the delicious cocktail that the bartender whipped up for me, I lulled into a more serene emotion, until suddenly we noticed Sweater  on the move. It was not only him going away, but he was coming right towards us. He bent over towards us and asked us if he “could crash in on our party” to which we all said cheerfully sure.

I winked to Christina and we both mouthed American. She was right, and I was wrong. It would not be the first time. He was all smiles, and described himself as an Alaskan visiting Sweden from his home in France where he’s an aviation engineer. The more I learned, the more I smile on the inside. Handsome, friendly, brainy, good smile, and an adorable laugh. We chit chatted and he kept leaning in and flirting. At first, I was thinking he’s flirting with Christina or our other friend Karin, but then I heard Christina in my ear telling me that he’s flirting with me. I shook my head at her and told her “you’re imagining things” cue terrible self esteem.

Time passed and we were enjoying a nice conversation about what he’s been doing in Stockholm and if he’s on the cruise alone or with friends and such. Time went by, and from prior I had decided that I needed to go back to my cabin to prepare for dinner. I estimated 1 hour to shower and get into what I wanted to, and make myself pretty. I wanted to make a good impression and not be lowlife like some others. I looked at my phone, and realised that not only did I not have 1 hour left until dinner, but less than 30 minutes. Time really did fly.

And so at this point Karin motioned to me to invite him to dinner, and she casually asked him which buffet he was going to, and he was a half hour after us, but she said to just come along and eat with us at 20:30 instead. We all smiled and he was super American and all “cool, thanks so much” and I bid him farewell to go get changed.

I literally ran back to my cabin, threw off my clothes, wet my hair, and began preparations. All must be perfect, I thought. I must make a good impression, I must be perfect. Tragedy struck when I realise I forgot my tie back at my apartment, but I figured that it would work without. Grey skin tight trousers, deep purple dress shirt, nice shoes; it looked above average. Concealer thrown on, powder done, mascara set, and for the first time in a long time I elected not to use glitter. A bit of lip gloss and I could hear Sarah in the hallway saying “We are going to be late, let’s go!!” and I off I went.

Passing people in the hallways, I noticed people staring at me. I was clearly too put together for this boat, but I didn’t care. We arrived to the buffet area and the first reaction from Brian was “Whoah, your lips are so red” to which I replied with some sassy remark about being a vampire. We proceeded to go to dinner, and the buffet lines were so long. I showered my plate with goods and then as I was fetching bread, I spotted him. Sweater Guy had transformed into Collard Shirt and Jeans with Dress Shoes guy.

It crossed my mind that my going to get changed somehow influenced him, and there was a moment of warmth that filled my heart. I found myself being drawn to him more and more. His smile, his laugh, the way he moved, just all these things that gave me positive feelings. Whenever he got up to get a drink, I would get stares from everyone around me inquiring who was he and winking at me. One went so far as to suggest that I make a move, and of course I scoffed thinking that it’s not likely.

Conversation was fun, light, engaging, personal, and since he was sitting right next to me I could even feel his aura and energy. As I kept drinking wine, I kept getting more and more sceptical and doubtful of what was going on. Others confirmed, there was flirting, and that his attention was on me. Eventually the dining staff kicked us out, as we downed our last bits of coffee, deserts and wine.

And so began the task of finding what to do. It was only 22:00 so it was quite early, and after wandering around for a bit we resolved on finding a karaoke bar to sit and listen to some Swedish pop songs and have a drink. And so comes the first time I’ve ever had a drink bought for me. I didn’t know how to react, I just was so embarrassed.

We sat down and recounted the examples of the Swedish music we were listening to, and people started to disperse from our group. A couple were left, along with Sweater Guy, and then karaoke started so the music got pretty rough. We decided on finishing up our drinks and going forward on to dancing somewhere. As we were making our way to the Entré Lounge, a phone call needed to be made and then we joined together and danced.

Truth be told, he couldn’t dance very well. As Jessica Andersson sang some covers of popular songs, we danced towards the middle and back of the floor and at one point I was so surprised on lack of rhythm that I asked him if he knew how to dance. He said not really, so I told him I’d show him. I grabbed his hips, and started to help him to feel the beat and move them with the beat. He did not protest, and I could feel a bit more that he was understanding that dancing was more than shuffling the feet. I returned to dancing up a storm.

We took a break to go to the bathroom, and as we were leaving the toilet, I pulled him aside and asked him an important question that had been lingering in my mind. I didn’t know if it was the right time, and didn’t really know what the answer was going to be, but I had felt and had been told that the entire evening he was flirting with me. He was following me, he was sticking to me, when I went away for a second he found my other friends and kept asking for me. He kept buying drinks for me, so I had to know. I stopped him and asked him, “Are you into guys?” and he looked at me, smiled a little bit, and after 30 seconds of the question hanging, said “No” and laughed. I retorted, “Then are you into Alex?” and he replied “Who is Alex?” and I told him she was the girl he was sitting across from at dinner. He said no.

I grabbed his hand, clearly carefree of everything, and dragged him to dance some more. I felt his hand squeeze mine, equally. We danced up a storm, and he bought me another drink, and by this time I was pretty wild. My hair was let down, I was doing backwards bends and snaps, my hands were on the floor, and my whole body was involved in dancing. I am quite sure that onlookers were getting a show filled with WTF entertainment. Drag queens would be screaming YAAAAAS QUEEN, etc.

We took a break, and he bought me another drink and it was at this moment that I thought that I was past my limit. He bought me at least 4 drinks, and I had 4 glasses of wine at dinner so I was pretty much well past my limit. He was trying to get me drunk, I felt it. I saw my friends lounging at the bar and said hello, and they asked me how things were going and told them I didn’t have a chance but I was still giving it my all. Sweater Guy promptly rejoined me with a new cider.

We stood together, drinking it and I started an intense conversation with him about doing what feels right. I think in retrospect, I was trying to justify following your heart and suggesting to him that he’s been a tease and clearly is into me so he should make a move. He was concentrated on me intensely like I had a spell on him. My friend Victor says the same, that when he listens to me he’s mesmerised by the way I tell things and have a great charismatic influence when orating. I played on this and he was agreeing, totally engaged.

I felt my balance giving way so I relocated to a large pillar near the bar, having finished my cider. I wrapped my arms around the pillar and held on for dear life, because I couldn’t stand up straight. I was dizzy, but I was keeping control of it. He came closer, leaned in and we continued our conversation in a more playful manner. I felt him flirting, after all he was leaning into me, whispering into my ear, all the while I was batting my eyelashes desperately trying to keep his attention. Doesn’t take much, I suppose.

We returned to dancing, and I kept showing him how to dance and helping him along. He eventually got tired and I just danced to him and for myself. Suddenly the lights went on and the bar was closing, but we decided to go up to the top deck to get some fresh air. We went, and the sun was rising and all the party boats were in the sea anchored and I showed him. It felt like such a romantic moment, with the wind flowing in our hair, together, and that’s when it started to hit me.

The tsunami strength, force of nature emotions started crashing down around the neighbouring village and it occurred to me that I had been flirting with a straight guy the entire night. I simply didn’t accept him saying he wasn’t interested in guys, I mean, he flirted, he followed me, he was being near to me, so it contradicted what he said. It also took him a long time to respond, so I just doubted. I was just upset, getting teary eyed, turning away from him, thinking and feeling embarrassing thoughts like what was I doing? I knew better, I just was so hopeful. I felt stupid, embarrassed, and mostly rejected. We had been together nearly for 12 hours non-stop, I was just so confused.

He started yawning and we went inside where a group of my friends were laying on the floor with the afterparty. Sweater Guy was standing at the railing yawning every few seconds, and I went up to ask him if he was tired. He said he was super tired, and I suggested maybe he should go to bed. He agreed and we went down to the 2nd floor. Why I followed him, I can not really understand, because I was basically walking to the depths of doom. But we passed some harassing Swedish guys and got to the 2nd floor deck where his cabin was. We got to his door, and we both leaned on it staring at each other.

I asked him if he had a good time, and it was at this moment that I realised I had been on a date for the last 12 hours. If it looks like a date, quacks like a date, it’s a date. I was in denial because we never called it a date, but that’s what it was. My attention was tunnel visioned on him and as the night progressed I got more and more attached. He told me he had an amazingly fun time and thanked me for being with him. He hugged me, I was stunned. He said “We should meet up tomorrow” and I laughed at him. Lack of self esteem enter stage left. I said, “Yeah right, it’s nice of you to offer but I’ve heard that before.” He smiled and persisted, then asked me for my number.

I was stunned. An attractive guy was asking me for my number, and even though he said he wasn’t into guys, he was asking for my number. I jumped at it. I grabbed my phone, which had been dead for 8 hours (duh) and then he grabbed his. I entered my details into his phone, then sent a sms from his phone to mine with my Facebook details. He said “Awesome” and hugged me again. I stood there, looking at him and the awkward feeling of something unspoken filled the air. Everything in my existence was holding me back from jumping at him and kissing him. My mind was screaming, “All I want to do is cuddle with you” and I could feel the flow of energy.

His aura suddenly changed from blue to green almost instantly, and I panicked. It was at this point I know I couldn’t say it. He hugged me again. I was psychically begging him to invite me in. He didn’t, and so I did the only respectable thing I could; I told him “I need to tell you that I think you’re awesome and I really like you. I don’t get the opportunity to meet people and form connections like this, so I just want to thank you so much for the time we’ve had. I need you to know that I’ve had no intentions of untoward behaviour or malice, I just really like you.” He hugged me, and as I was moving away from the hug I felt a tear in my eye start to form, and I wished him a good night and sweet dreams. In retrospect I realised that I made the right decision not pushing any harder than I did; I mean he said he wasn’t into guys even though his actions said otherwise so if I did try something it would just make me a douchebag, no? I walked down the hallway, and turned around twice to see him go into the room and close the door. I said out loud, “What the fuck are you doing?”

I went back up to the 12th floor where my friends were still waiting, and I sat down next to Christopher. He asked me how I was, and I just broke down. I started to cry and explained to him how I was feeling. How I felt so helpless and embarrassed, and rejected. He comforted me, and didn’t understand how that could have happened, he was convinced that Sweater Guy was into me. Christopher was perplexed because as I cried I was trying to counteract the negative as much as possible and the bodily reaction was smiling. So I was smile-crying. I was feeling so pitiful.

Eventually some douchebag guys came to hit on our friend, and then I figured it was time to go to bed. I stumbled down the stairs, climbed into my bunk and fell asleep, feeling pathetic for myself. I barely slept, and woke up at 10:00 having slept at 05:00 or so (to the best of my recollection). I checked my phone, and realised that when I sent the sms from Sweater Guy‘s phone he was on Airplane mode, so the message probably sat in his outbox and won’t send. I never got it, so I was right.

Eventually I woke up with my cabin mate and I took a shower. I got cleaned up and felt like death. We ventured out into the world and met up with Chris. I asked him if he was hungry, he said yes but we agreed that food would result in immediate throwing up so we elected to find a place to sit down and chill. We did, and small talk about Mothers Day ensued. I took out my wet hair and tried to take apart the mess of a hair that remained on my elastic, and just as I was about to think pitifully of myself, guess who showed up: Sweater Guy. He sat down and we small chatted for awhile.

Christopher left to go shopping and left us alone. I felt so awkward, I felt so pathetic, I felt so humiliated. I continued conversation and eventually he said he was going to shop and he left. I returned to my cabin and struggled, eventually was sick, and then disembarked to meet my bus. I never saw him again.

The Aftermath

My initial message never sent, and a few days later I go his phone number from a friend who got it for me. She said he wanted me to have it, so she gladly passed it on. I sent him a message on Whatsapp and he read it, and didn’t reply. In the week that followed, I chatted to people to get a grasp on what happened, and toiled in my own misery and confusion, and continued to obsess over him. It’s at this point that I reveal that Sweater Guy, aka Alaska, is actually named Tyler. I left this to the end, since at this point whatever was going on, no longer is, so I figure it’s safe.

I spent some time on the internet doing some sleuthing, and I discovered his full name, origins, social media accounts, and the most important key piece of information that might explain why things panned out the way they did: he married in 2013, and his wife is gorgeous. I’m not at all surprised, but I continue to be conflicted. I feel like I need explanations and closure, but won’t ever get it. Thus the following questions remain:

  • Why would someone self professed at not being interested in men, follow a man around all night and flirt with him?
  • Why would someone who was married not wear a ring, or say something about the spouse when asked about interest?
  • Why would someone ask for my phone number if they weren’t interested in me, and then never reply to messages?

In a feeble attempt at finding answers, I drew some tarot cards (it’s been awhile) and I started to cry:

As you can see, and if anyone wants to provide a different explanation, I’m fucked.

  1. The Fool * How ironic and appropriate, no?
  2. The Emperor
  3. The Hanged Man (Reversed) * No kidding, no solution
  4. Three of Wands
  5. Nine of Cups (Reversed) * It hurts
  6. Page of Swords * Struggle everywhere
  7. Knight of Swords
  8. Seven of Wands (Reversed)
  9. Nine of Pentacles (Reversed)
  10. Seven of Pentacles * Bluh