nästan totalt fiction (II)

(edit your profile)

In between, the week went as it always did. Talks and meetings in hotel meeting room basements. Doodling notes on a free pad of paper and poking at the iPhone under the table.

(sex… M… height… 5’11″… age… forty… umm… two? one.)

In the afternoons he would walk though the city. Not far in any direction. A few shops. A cafe. Jesus, the drinks are small in Europe. Aren’t there any Starbucks around here? A week of caffeine headaches…

(upload photos. sigh. is this a sexy look? or a scowl?)

The nights are just a little colder here in Stockholm than they were when he left New York. He had a light coat, but didn’t pack a scarf, and, looking around at the locals on the street, everyone was still wearing a scarf. He went into a few menswear stores to try to find one maybe still on the shelves in April, but no. You still have to WEAR a scarf in Sweden in April, but you can’t buy one. He noticed mannequins in store windows wearing shorts and North Face type jackets. When the fuck can you take your jacket off here?

(search preferences. female. age? 22-42. ha. yeah right. 32-48? Ugh. 46?)

By now he had noticed that the cliche of all Swedish women being tall and blonde and gorgeous was actually more like a rule of thumb. Not 100% true, but fuck if it wasn’t overwhelmingly the case. While he was sitting in a restaurant having dinner with a colleague, a group of six women walked in. FIVE of them were tall, blonde, and gorgeous. The sixth was tall, brunette, and… pretty much also gorgeous.

(location?)

An “app” may not be able to help you here my friend….

(continued)