My Story is a bit long

Born in Arizona where my Luftwaffe pilot father was practicing flying in the desert with the USAF. When I was 2 we returned to Germany.

At 4, my parents separated for the first time. I do not know why, only my mother saying, “What else can I do?”

At 5, my best friend is Anna. We play together and I am happy. I remember stuffing rolled socks in my pants so we can play husband and wife having sex, I am the man.

At 6, we move and I lose my best friend, Anna.

Sisters reject me

When I try to play with my sisters who are 13 and 15. They reject me. My mother tells me playing is a stupid waste of time. She also tells me how having children ruined her life. All this makes sense as an adult but not as a child.

When I try to speak at the dinner table, I am either ignored or told to shut up. My ideas are not welcomed, rarely do I even get a chance to offer them at all.

Popular Girls reject me aggressively

Parents separate and we move again, then they get back together. I move to a new school where the Popular Girls aggressively reject me. I am bullied by another girl and fight back. My mother gets angry at me for standing up for myself and making her look bad in the eyes of the school principal.

My parents separate and we move again. My sisters at 14 and 16 stay at their school in their own apartment. I am alone with Mom.

I am told we do not have enough money for food, and she buys a sports car. (I understand that need now but not at all as an 8 year old.)

My father who is now an airline pilot for Lufthansa, tells me he has no money too.

We move every two years from age 4 to 13 when my parents finally divorce.

Near age 11, I hear my mother say to my father, “Maybe she is too stupid to go to the good school. She should not bother to try.” I am crushed. (I have an MBA in International Business, a Master's in Project Management, CPA (US), Certified Fraud Analyst. I fail at being stupid!)

My parents divorce. I think it must be my fault. (I learn as an adult many children think this.)

A Dancer is Born

At 13, I go to the same dancing school my sisters went to at the same age. They were average but I rocket to the top and am asked to join the team from our area that goes on to be World Champions in Latin Formation Dancing for the German Premier League.

Sounds nice but the women there are older and cold to me. One even pushes me violently to the floor. Still, I thrive and my coach places me in important spots even though I am the youngest and least experienced dancer.

I enter university full time and work two jobs while continuing to dance in competitions.

Just shy of my 18th birthday I lose my virginity. Odd to use the word lose and not get rid of. (My husband says it is a condition you can be cured of!) My first time is terrible. We are young. He is inexperienced and clumsy. There is minimal foreplay and it hurts like hell!

I’ve seen the movies. It should be romantic, exciting, passionate, and filled with pleasure and a Great Climax. I conclude there must be something wrong with me. My lady doctor says I am perfectly normal.

I get my degree and enter a Master’s Degree program. I work, dance, study, and work for one of the faculty advisors.

My father remarried

I was about 14, to a woman with two daughters. They get presents, I get none. Worst, I borrow money from my father so I can buy a computer for college. My oldest, totally entitled sister gets angry at me. She should have that computer, not me. Yes, I borrowed the money and I am working to save money to pay it back but she should get the computer. You work it out. I am clearly too stupid to understand this logic.

So, while I am working, studying, dancing, she gets driven by my mother to go drinking with her friends, but my mother informs me she is not going to drive me to dance practice.

New boyfriend, more sex, not painful but no excitement. Yes, it is no fun, but I care for him and know he wants to please me. Unfortunately, I have not a clue how to do that, nor does he, so in the end, I fake it. <I learn over time this is a bad idea.)

While paying my father back who told me later he was shocked because no one had ever paid him back, in the middle of this, his obese stepdaughter comes up and whines that she needs a new Dior bag for a few hundred Euro. He takes my money and gives her the bag. Aren’t I special?

Right before the National Championships competition, I get pushed out of the group in favor of one of the other dancer’s cousin who is older, less talented but wants my spot enough to really push for the spot. I know nothing of politics or group dynamics, so I am out. Shortly after that, I decide to stop dancing.

Right about this time, my academic advisor boss admits she has been taking advantage of me. She tells me people will continue to take advantage of me until I stand up for myself.

I get my Master’s Degrees in Project Management and International Business.

I move away from my dance group to study for a Ph.D. in Architecture. I am told early on by the serious “I am so artistic” professor that my art skills suck, so I drop out rather than push on.

Flee a marriage proposal

I also learn my boring German boyfriend is going to ask me to marry him. I take a day to imagine my life living in the same little German town he and his family have lived in for generations. I pack two bags, take $700, and flee to America. I have both US and German passports due to my birth, so no barriers to me going to the US.

I Dear John him over the phone from 4,000 miles away.

I live in Michigan with some pleasant, but dumb as can be psycho Christians who think Germans do not know what washing machines and refrigerators are! WTF!

I decide I want to live someplace warm and SAFE. No hurricanes, no earthquakes, so California and Florida are out. I wisely (eye roll here) pick Houston, Texas, and find a job with the German American Chamber of Commerce.

One week after I arrive, Hurricane Ike slams into Huston.

All of the Male German Managers at the German American Chamber of Commerce flee, and leave me telling me, a single inexperienced female to “take care of the Office.” Such brave, courageous, and thoughtful men flee to leave a young woman alone. Clearly, Every Man for Himself, leaving the youngest woman behind. German macho masculinity at its finest!

Just before Ike hit, my middle sister arrived in Houston with her new boyfriend while leaving her clueless husband behind in Germany. There were a bunch of demands, like could she have my apartment alone with just she and her boyfriend and could she use my car. Back then she made good money, and I was a severely underpaid intern but why be thoughtful when being selfish works.

During the 7 days of Hurricane Ike, I met Trey. He was in the military, owned both a truck, plenty of food, and bottled water plus an electrical generator. There was no electricity, and clean water was in short supply.

He is black, and I know racism exists in Germany but fortunately, my parents neglected that part of my education. Trey was also kind, and protective. I knew from my years of dancing how to smile during a performance even when your feet were on fire with pain. So, sex for safety seemed like a fair trade. I faked loving it but he is a really nice guy and I did genuinely like him. It is not his fault I know next to nothing about my body or my sexual self.

Yes, I did learn to orgasm by myself when I was 23 but how to have that happen with a man was still beyond me.

In the end, Trey was career military and was transferred away. It was not a big loss. Yes, a bit disappointing, I felt safe with him. Where in my life do I see relationships work? What I do see is every man for himself.

So, moving up in the German American Chamber of Commerce?

Well sort of. I get no thanks for staying in Houston during Ike. I do get more responsibility. I am put in charge of an event held every year that has always lost money.

I manage to turn a profit for the first time in decades. My reward?

I get to clap as a man who is less educated and less experienced is promoted above me. You are not going to promote a Woman to do a Man’s job even if she can turn a profit. After all, we are Germans!

Still, I look around and notice that finance and accounting are the things all German companies need when they come to America. I decide to become an accountant, not just an accountant but a Certified Public Accountant. I do not know at the time I make this decision that the CPA exams are considered the second hardest professional exams in the world! They are far harder and have a higher failure rate than law.

Earlier, I wanted to buy a house. I was dating a black carpenter and thought we would make a good team. The idea was to buy an old beat up house, fix it up and sell it or rent it. I had a plan, a good job but no debt.

America is an odd place, you need debt and a history of debt to borrow money. The banks basically said, “No little girl, only Big Men can buy old beat up houses but we are happy to fuck you over with a far more expensive pretty new house!”

I shift my focus and buy a house with 3 bedrooms, two car garage, and a pool. The new idea is I will rent my upstairs rooms to rent to interns who have no credit in the US, so they have a hard time finding places to rent. It is sort of a great idea until one nightmare girl from Germany goes a bit off the rails. I also think I need silence to focus on my studies. After all, past experience has shown me people are an annoying waste of time and distraction.

I taught strip aerobics and pole dancing for one of the Houston dance schools. That was fun. I learned women did strip aerobics for themselves, to feel better about themselves, and NOT for their boyfriends or husbands as I imagined.

Before I started studying, I also started dancing Salsa and Bachata that my husband calls The Grind Your Pussy on the Guy’s Thigh dance!

I do date and break up a few more times. Men come and fuck, I fake, then I break up. I am a bit sad. I suspect something is wrong but really do not know what. I go to a few psychotherapists in Houston who do their best to convince me I am crazy for wanting a career. “You surely want to get married and live in a house with a white picket fence, and 2.3 children!” I think they might be one of the 0.3 children because clearly, they are living in some 1950s fantasyland.

My last run at a relationship was with a Jewish Doctor. Oh, doesn’t that sound great? Except he lies about his age. He is not 46 but 53. He is not single but has a small child by the woman he married at age 48, who left him two years later to go back to her last boyfriend whom I am guessing fucks better. He lied about the daughter and failed to mention he has been bankrupt twice.

He has spent over $250,000 on divorce, custody battle and investigation with his wife and all that crap is still going on. He is spending even more on art scattered about his house, most of it is not hung up, maybe good, maybe bad, none impressive to me. He has a custom made table from India or Indonesia with his initials carved in it to show how fucking important he is. His status symbol Mercedes gets towed away because he cannot make the payments until his Mommy who is in her 70s gets it out of hock.

I was looking for a dominant man because the only orgasm I had from intercourse came from a man who spanked me, then diddled me for hours. When we tried a repeat and failed, we gave up but I thought a dominant man might be the way to go.

So, Dr. Dominant has this great profile up on Fetlife.com but in two years I never once see any sort of actual dominant behavior unless losing your temper counts. He does get ripped off by his personal assistant and refuses to let me the girl studying finance and accounting and now working as an accountant, help him with his financial disaster, yes, bankruptcy number three is on the horizon.

I do get to babysit his daughter, which in my profile was listed as a deal breaker. She is horribly spoiled and throws hissy fits that he always gives into. Such a Big Bad Dom. In all fairness to her, when she and I play I can go back to a carefree childhood I never really had. I also set boundaries and say No often to her which makes her only like me more.

Well exams are looming, so fuck it I am so done with people, especially men. Doctor Dominant lies, my new job lies about having a Real Licensed CPA required for me to get my license after I pass the exams. So, I stop seeing Doctor Dom and get a new job with a steel company.

I am sad and depressed.

I am online in the BDSM forums of Fetlife. I am sort of looking for a dominant guy but mostly I am just sad. I am 34 and when are things going to get better?

I am in the psychology help groups which at mainly bitchy women with loads of baggage screaming about how all guys are lying cheating bastards. I can totally relate but…

There is this one man that stands out. He answers questions with long thoughtful posts. He explains things in detail and he never belittles.

He is 10.000 miles away on the island of Bali. So, I figure I am safe.

Later, he points out that Google Earth says it is only 9,989 miles between our houses. I was 11 miles short of safety.

Yes, This is my husband.

I don’t know it.

He does not know it.

He is 65 and a widower. His Japanese wife died from cancer 16 years earlier. He has raised two daughters by himself.

We have no pictures. We are not thinking this is a person I am starting a relationship with. I am just a completely functionally dysfunctional woman with a house, career, good job, a life plan but a life that just feels sad and depressing.

So, I write. Because I am not trying to put one my Aren’t I attractive? Do you want me? face, I write honestly. I do not hide any flaws. I just want him to see if he can explain what kind of crazy I am and if there is anything I can do about it.

I do not expect an answer. I have read enough of his posts to know he is really smart, sensitive, and caring. There has to be a wife or at least a few girlfriends.

Shock of shocks, he answers.

I ask more and he keeps answering.

A few times, when I get upset and tell him I do not want to talk anymore, he tells me he understands, and I should do what I think is best for myself. WTF! No, “Hey baby, you’ve got it all wrong, I just want to [fill in with self serving comment here]” He just says, “If that is what you want, I understand, best of luck.”

Sneaky bastard.

And when I ask him, does my having 8 lovers in 17 years mean I am a SLUT because my mother says I am because she has only had 4 in her entire life… He answers, “Is that 8 before breakfast? If yes, then maybe but I prefer to use the word Love Goddess.”

And I fall in love.

OK, I admit I am already in love but to go from being a slut in my mother’s eyes to a Love Goddess in his sealed the deal for me.

He was already in love with me but was not saying a word because he knows no young, beautiful woman with advanced degrees, a house, career, and plan is going move to Bali to live with some old broken down man. Yes, he had by now seen my pictures when he was helping me replace my grumpy profile of pure negatives, “if you are fat, if you smell, if you have small children, if you don’t have a job blah blah” with only positive statements to help me find a great guy for me.

Yes, he thought broken down and old guy who’d spent all his money raising his daughters so they were smart enough to get scholarships to Stanford and Berkeley could not be attractive to me!

BTW, I used to think he was bragging like all parents do about their kids until I finally met his daughters, and wow. If anything, he was underselling. They are amazing young ladies.

At that time, he was living in a single room in Bali, teaching people about how their minds and bodies are connected in an amazingly practical no woo woo way.

He is keeping his love for me secret. He just figures this will be one more heartbreak in his life. He does not need to burden me. He already knows how many problems I have.

He has been working tirelessly on helping me while I continue to resist. My lawyer jumps up and defends my position with a lifetime of proof that life sucks, people suck, parents suck, relationships fail, and sex is overrated and sucks. Well, except for my vibrator and a few trusted fantasies too disgusting to share even on a site filled with fellow perverts.

He agrees.

Life is not fair. So what?

Yes, your parents had horrible training to be parents, and sucked at being parents. So what?

Yes, most men are assholes. He insists he is a certified asshole, especially when I get angry at him and tell him he is an asshole! His reply is always, “Yes, I am a certified asshole. Thank you for noticing.”

I thrash, kick and scream. It is what he often refers to as Dragged, kicking & screaming into Paradise.

He spends hour upon hour helping me study for my CPA exams. He is a brain scientist and knows tons of useful information about how to study more effectively.

I mean What the Holy Fuck? A guy who wants me to be successful in my career, happy in my life, and find a great guy in Houston.

Houston, we have a problem!

No one can be this nice to me.

Sure as hell, I know I am not worth it. I have been told or shown over and over I am not worth it.

He must be after me for my money.

I don’t really accept that he comes from the upper class and has walked away from money more than a few times. He has lived all over the world, been rich, broke, rich, broke while admitting to liking money, just not enough to buckle down and get seriously involved in the Rat Race.

Money is nice but not interesting.

Bullshit!

Who could like me for something other than my money or to fuck me or use me?

Who could like me just for me?

I am not even sure who me really is!

Down deep, I think I am a good person. I try to be fair and play fair. But fuck I hate people. I can easily say I am the worst and meanest person in the world. I mean Aldoph is dead so the job must be open.

He just keeps helping.

OK, I do pay him some money to learn about my mind and body, and some for therapy. But honestly, he could make more money working at MacDonald's in Bali than I am paying him for all his help, therapy, and support.

If this were a real business relationship, I am tens of thousands of dollars in debt.

It gets worse.

He discovers Goddess Germanika inside of me.

He teaches me how to fix my house.

He scolds me for eating takeout off plastic plates while drinking soda out of plastic cups.

Then teaches me how to cook healthy food quickly and easily! From Bali over the internet and the food is delicious!

Yes, I do have a nice kitchen with marble countertops, a full set of dishes, and a dishwasher.

He makes me run.

He makes me swim in the pool every day, the pool I have gotten in maybe twice in the eight years I owned my house.

I am now healthier and happier than I have ever been in my life.

So, I sell my house and move to Bali. Then I want to move to Germany for my work. He says OK.

He has this magic, which he says is WE have this magic. We are looking at all these crappy apartments in Berlin and one realtor points to a penthouse apartment 3 floors up and across they way.

My husband says, "Let's go there, Now."

It is amazing. It is more expensive than I think I am allowed to have but I want this charming man happy, so we take it. Takes nearly two months to move in. Germans pride themselves on making the simple as complex as possible. But it is an amazing place.

I go to work and he is fixing up the house. I come home one day and he has built this amazing bed after giving the supply house detailed instructions on how to cut the four pieces of wood that make up the bed. You roll into bed and roll down out of it. This bed is two meters by two meters and nearly a meter high.

He is 68 now, has heart disease we do not know about yet, but builds this bed by himself.

He installs speakers so we listen to special sounds and recordings while we sleep. There is space below for submissives to sleep. None has made the grade but he keeps saying, "Practice swings. No rush."

Maybe I should mention on Bali, he shows me I am beyond multi-orgasmic.

In Germany, we go on a tour of sex clubs one vacation. The first night, I am thinking one or two men and 17 men and fifty or more incredible orgasms later, I discover why people think sex is great! I love fucking!

He is patient, because I still hate men from time to time, but I also go a bit cock crazy. I fuck but I am fucking cocks, the men are an afterthought. Rude ones get thrown off the bus, while I order the next in line.

In the clubs, I see a few women with a man or two. Men are lined up for me. I do over two dozen each night. Men and woman come and compliment me. Men tell my husband they wish their wives could be like me.

I begin to realize I have been brainwashed by these Pedophile Priests, the sexual perverts of every religion.

They have promoted the idea that the Woman who Likes Sex is a SLUT and WHORE!

They claim to be spiritual while they are fucking the asses of children under ten years old! I am guessing this is the spiritual ass-fucking to prepare them for the ass-fucking they will get from their company owners later in life.

Out of this, I notice how these relgions create a society that preys on the weakest, makes sure the workers have OK lives but lives that rarely are wonderful. We are mentally trained to think work is more important than living well. I see men afraid of bosses and bosses who distrust their workers. I watch men cheat on taxes, thinking they are clever, only to get caught and end up paying way more than being honest.

You all know this part of the story yourself.

But out of these comes The Idea.

#MeToo! is a nice start but so often you hear, "They ought to pass a law," or "Men should invest in female businesses!" This sounds too much like little whining girls saying, "Daddy, Fix This!"

Fuck That!

Did you know Women have ALL the Pussy and Half the Money!?!

Most widows place their trust in men who have never beaten the market five years running! Many of those men "churn" the widow's account. This means he buys and sells stock inside her account because...guess who gets a commission when the widow’s stock is sold?

The Idea

What if we form a Web of Organized Women similar to the microloans of India and Africa. Where women who are in business help newcomers how to plan and organize a new business? I call this FLOWER.

Female Led businesses run by Organized Women in Ethical polyamorous Relationships.

This War of Sexes is very weird. It is first and foremost Men against Women. Men want sex and the pedophile priests told us We Women should not like sex and if we do like sex we are sick, depraved sluts, whores, and harlots!

OK pretty simple. Men want it and we should not give it to them without them agreeing to being in Bondage (yeah, not the cool BDSM type, but old fashioned slavery) while we get to raise children and get thrown out when he decides at age 50 he wants to fuck his 20 year old cupcake of a secretary.

Society adjusts, lawyers must win in any divorce, so men pay, women get some but never enough but the banks, credit cards and whoever is selling the next dream keeps all of us in bondage.

Ever notice when banks fuck up, governement bails them out with Our Money and top guys at the Banks get Big Bonuses?!?

But IN the War of the Sexes, the killer part is EVERY WOMAN is the enemy of every other woman! That Slut’s stealing My Man!

Can you imagine going to war and people Over There are shooting at you and…the people on Your Side are Shooting at You Too!?!?!

These pedophile priests and mullahs are experts at Divide and Conquer.

How are you going to sell some poor idiot on the idea he is going to blow himself up while killing women and children so he can get 72 virgins, if there are 72 Love Goddesses who are experts at fucking and telling him, “Yes, you can fuck any of them, and No Murdering of yourself and others is required!” In fact, we discourage it.

Mullahs kill women for showing their hair! I don’t think the pedophile priest kill the children.

Catholic pedophile priests burned women at the stake. BTW, most of those estimated five million women killed during the Inquisition were the midwives and herbalist healers of the European people that the pedophile priests could not compete with.

Most of the men killed were Jews and Muslims who had property. The Pedophile Priest knows who pays for the Gold Cross.

Have you ever noticed how the Psycho-Christians say, “The Jews Killed Jesus!” The Romans were apparently just there on holiday!

So WOW builds a million FLOWERs that fund a million more. We stop buying bullshit bling and makeup. We starve the companies and politicians who take money from the rich to pass laws to help the rich get richer and the poor become poorer.

We build communities called Heavenz on Earth, where we actually practice ethical behavior and Make love (Yes, Virginia, I do mean fucking!) not war.

We also build a political party called the Party of Organized Women in Action or POWA.

So, I need your help. 99% probably fell asleep way back there. The few of you who reached this part, we need your help.

Some of that will be money to pay for fees and websites and the like. But Lawyers, other accountants (I am actually studying computer coding because I fucking Love Puzzles and I have some cool ideas for apps to make our lives better), graphic artist, videographers and editors, sound engineers, electrical engineers, and this list goes on.

So we own WebofOrganizedWomen.org

It will be a really crappy website. I want it to be sort of MeetUp meets dating site meets LinkedIn meets GitHub. I want people to be able to meet people near themselves or in places they want to live. They can help plan buisinesses, build a community and if they have the core of a community to be able to say “We need….skills”.

We own HeavenzonEarth.com which is just the vision. That is way more why I left Houston to be with my husband.

We think time is right for a major paradigm shift.

BTW, I thnk the LGBQTNBGFASDS is weird and confusing. It also excludes heterosexuals who get referred to as CIS Gendered Heteronormaitive which sounds like some disease.

My husband’s sister is gay and uses Gay, Queer, and Lesbian interchangeably.

Are Lesbians Cis-gendered homonormative? Is lesbian a sexist term? I have met some dour German lesbians who could never be called gay, unless you are saying things like, “I offered him spiritual enlightenment by shooting him five times in the head!”

I am voting for QTBH which is a nice alliteration sounding like Cutie Be H. After all, rainbows have All the colors.