Rock, Sex and Jelly Bellies in Prague


I secretly hoped for more, but my Prague experience left me only a jelly belly taste in mouth.

It was September 2008 and I was going to spend some 9-10 days at the World Congress of Psychiatry in Prague. It gave me a panic attack because I had serious concerns that this lonesome and weird experience might be hazardous for my mental health. In a dire need of taking urgent precautions, I made a quick Skype search for male English speakers, residing in Prague and started stalking them. I was just looking for company – sane new people to spend my leisure time with while in Prague. I believed that my chances with men were better because averagely they tend to be more responsive to desperately bored women than the female. No other agenda... Two of the ”targeted” objects accepted my friend invitations and we got involved in ice-breaking chats. One of them was a British man, financial analyst/ banker/ whatever, working at Lloyds, who was a regular commuter to the Czech Republic for dental purposes. Being too prudent and rational for me, he was unanimously rated as a rescue plan - if things did not work out with the other guy. Choice A was a free spirit, creative American musician, who lived in Europe at that time and among his best achievements was co-writing a song with Fatboy Slim.
I am convinced that there is much more to come ahead of him. Who knows, some day I might be bragging around that I have known him…
We met on my first day in Prague and had sex on the first night…
But it was not that superficial as it sounds – at least not in my head. By the end of our first live meeting, we had shared a lot. I knew about his former alcohol addiction, his regular visits to the AA, about his brother with schizophrenia, his parents’ separation, etc. I really did not mean to go that far and so fast on this day, but it was just natural and … inevitable. We spent the evening in his apartment, we talked and I had wine, and, having been on a sex diet for months, I unexpectedly got turned on when he started massaging my feet and toes. Normally, I would not let a person do that to me, since I consider it too intimate and too personal, but I had the feeling that he knew me perfectly well, beyond my feet and body… We were like twin nomadic souls sharing a common curse...
Sex was great. This man was my inspiration over the upcoming week. The evenings with him and his friends were the spicy secret, which made me smile furtively during the dreary days at the Convention. On several occasions I crashed out on his couch while they were recording songs and, despite the little sleep, it was a refreshing start of the next day...

I knew it would not last long, but I did not care until the final day and primarily the final night, which I spent in solitude in my hotel room. We were together the whole afternoon, we had a walk, lunch, sex and a nap (in this order). I somehow needed a special goodbye – a BIG goodbye, because we both knew that it would be for good… On leaving his place, he gave me 2 packets of Jelly-Bellies – very healthy, natural-colourants, no-preservatives candies, distributed by his father’s company. Before going to the hotel, I sat for a while to a “Sex on the Beach” cocktail in a coffee bar at the bus station, munching jellies and thinking, thinking about my loneliness and sadness, and the cause of it. I went on reflecting in the hotel room, drying up the minibar and still sucking candies. I did not find the solution to my life worries, but I knew that I would feel much better, if something romantic, movie-like happened to me. I pictured him knocking at the hotel door and staying the night… In the morning I kept on imagining him showing up at the airport to say goodbye… In the next days – already back in the office – I secretly hoped for a song, dedicated to me... For some odd reason, I took a strange excitement in the possibility of being a musician’s girlfriend…
But my Prague experience left me only a jelly belly taste in mouth.
Later on, in years, we had been having chats and he shared that he was regretting for not spending more time with me. Once he told me how the guys from his band had been talking about the hottest chicks they had ever done and he had remembered about me.
Now he is happily married with a daughter and admits that fatherhood has changed his life. He’s got a real job like “normal” people do, he showers Facebook with photos and news about his child, which is great. Of course, he still writes music. His songs are even better, according to my humble lay opinion. And I am really happy for him.
But I cannot forget what he used to tell me: “You are untamable like me”. Deep in myself, I objected, yelling that I was NOT LIKE HIM and I was NOT UNTAMABLE. Just no one had ever wanted to tame me…
Well, he is settled down now. Of course, he would argue that he was still a witty freak with original thoughts and singular behavior, but these are only the frills, the gist of him is domesticated.
And I am still the enchanter, roaming about and inspiring everyone for the better. I have noticed that after my “touch”, people often choose to get back to their spouses, to start or resuscitate family relationships, to get married… And most of them never forget me. I am usually memorised as the open-minded friend, the sexiest girl to have come across, the confessor, the good person, etc.

Most of them think high of me and enjoy my company but to them I am like an ethereal image that cannot be integrated materially and sustainably in their lives. I am like a Muse.
And the only thing left to me, are the memories and the jelly-belly aftertaste, which can never persevere.


Expert advice

Save your breath because you only need two words to make him commit.
Are you REALLY thinking about their happiness?
If you keep finding yourself in heartbreaking, dead end relationships, listen up.
It seems like you can't do anything right.