Chapter 4: How I stopped being a motherfucker and became the soft funny crippled nipple-licker, I am still today (1)
And yes, I suffered like hell from Hans. The minimum of male warrior I was in the very end, now, after coming back from my so-called Ausschwitz trip, I left my parents’ sleeping-room and hurried to my car to visit my girl-friend. I wanted to make love with her on the same morning, getting consoled by her for the non-heroic fact, that I was not gassed and not persecuted, faking to be just another stupid tourist, who went there in order to not understand this thing called Holocaust. But instead of spending with her those few happy rare moments, I had hoped for, I had to hear from Mirale, that now, of all times, after me, having returned from the trip to this former Nazi-genocide-hell on Earth, she had started an affair with Hans, hereby officially ending two years of an unsatisfying affair with me. Okay, I had wanted exactly this. I had constantly preached her to get rid of me, to take a gentile German boyfriend and leave this Jewish bullshit behind her; explained her, that two strange German Jewish outsiders like us being a couple, from the same community, the same village, was actually an incestuous thing. But now it hit me as a really shitty defeat. Being used to feeling ugly, weak, unwanted and not demanded, the moment I was longing for so long, in the shadow of all this trip to Poland turned unexpectedly into a dramatic and traumatic one, evoking some unknown, yet unexplored causes of my inferiority complex. Here I was, standing in the kitchen of the Finkelsteins. In a lot of masturbation movies, which had enrolled on my outer sex-connected brain-hemispheres, I had done it with her hornier sister Towa on the floor of this very kitchen. She was actually a crazy dumb and much too old, just her body and the mere phantasy of doing it with the older sister of my girl-friend turned me on, made me start to masturbate the shit out of me, in the moment I started to have sex with Mirale two years ago. So despite I was so proud of her, that she finally found the strength to separate and go for another one, Hans, my great Hans, my inner voice of truth had to give in to this evil automatic pilot, who was in charge of my behaving part, who simply had to play the loser. So I turned around without words, left her with tears and a broken heart, and for the weeks to come fell into this deep hole, fantasized about licking her cunt, which I never actually had done, when we were together, fantasizing that my hated and beloved Hans was mercifully watching and massaging her great tits, while I am licking her, and while enjoying this painful love-sick masturbation fantasy-orgies, I even caught myself of daydreaming about me wanting to be her, having sex with Hans; which made me feel even more disgusted, because I personally find it disgusting to have sex with a man. And then my brother left me. As he did in those days every now and then, at least once a year. He took a few Goiim, so to say Gentiles with him to some remote touristic hiking-area in some exotic Third world country, who were ordered to shlepp, to carry his back-pack, as he used to describe it with his horse-like whinnying laughter, since his academic, bony, not too muscular Jewish back was not created for such earthly things. So while spending awful days of awe in his apartment, out of my depression and humiliation, out of being forlorn, depressed and unemployed, I did something unheard of, I smashed the glass-door of his living-room in a meaningful attack of auto-destruction, started to experimentally scratch with one of this broken glass pieces my wrist, where the veins of my skinny arms were peeping out, as if I want to do it, amazed by the sheer impossibility to do such a great, actually very heroic, though not very intelligent act.
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