"London Life"
Fleabag: Sloppy people, filthy animals, cheap low-class hotels. - The Oxford English Dictionary
(1) Fleabag
"
Love is awful.
It's awful.
It's painful.
It's frightening.
Makes you doubt yourself, judge yourself.
Distance yourself from yourself from the people in your life.
Makes you selfish. Makes you creepy.
Makes you obsessed with your hair.
Makes you cruel.
Makes you say and do things you never thought you would do!
It's all any of us want and it's hell when we get there!
So, no wonder it's something we don't want to do on our own.
I was taught if we're born with love,
then life is about choosing place to put it.
People talk about that a lot.
It "Feeling right".
"When it feels right it's easy".
But I'm not sure that's true.
It takes strength to know waht's right.
And love isn't something that weak people do.
Being a romantic takes a hell of a lot of hope.
I thing what they mean is...
when you find somebody that you love, it feels like hope.
"
(1) Fleabag
My name is Fleabag and my life is very regular.
My good friend Boo and I ran a guinea pig cafe in London, but Boo died in a car accident.
Boo left me and put my life back in a mess.
Maybe there is something wrong with my way of business, maybe because I have a guinea pig in the store, and Boo left me with the guinea pig. The business of the cafe is bleak. Occasionally, one or two customers still come to rub the socket and rub the Internet.
I really don't know what's wrong with this world, how there are so many cheeky and boring people.
I have a lot of little fetishes.
I would run in graveyards, and I would have sex with strangers, but I would never admit it was because of my emptiness and loneliness.
I even accidentally slept with Boo's boyfriend once after a hangover.
So it's me, it's me who indirectly caused Boo's death.
That's Boo, gentle and lovely Boo, the warm Boo in my life.
So whenever I think about this, the power in my body disappears little by little, as if I am a tumbler without a fulcrum, unable to sway back and forth, left and right.
I can't even get along well with my family.
Probably because my father married my godmother soon after my mother left me.
My godmother was also an amazing person, many times better than me, at least in her mastery over men.
You see my father was eaten to death, he seemed to forget that he not only had to play the role of a good husband, but also to play the role of a good father.
So even when he saw his stepmother slap me, he just quietly turned his head and pretended that it hadn't happened.
I also pretend it didn't happen.
My body spontaneously forms a barrier that separates me from everyone around me.
Even when my sister Claire wanted to hug me, I subconsciously waved away.
I had a boyfriend, Harry, who was a sensitive and clean-obsessed man, and every time we broke up, Harry would clean our apartment. So sometimes when I think the apartment is too dirty, I will deliberately break up with Harry.
After all, I have a lot of things he can't stand, like masturbating to a video of Obama's speech.
Ha, another geek, the geek who does the housecleaning while crying.
But every time they broke up Harry would deliberately leave his dinosaur doll behind.
Of course, I knew he would always come back, as long as there were the dinosaur dolls he left on purpose.
But not this time, I searched every corner of the house and couldn't find any dinosaur dolls. I felt that I really lost Harry this time. I tried to get it back, but this time Harry was serious about breaking up.
My godmother, now stepmother, taunted me that I would never find a man as good as Harry again. Of course, in her eyes, I was a total bereavement. Maybe Harry was the most perfect partner I could ever meet, but unfortunately I lost it myself.
It's weird that me and Claire got along weirdly with my father and stepmother until they got married and had a wedding. My amazing stepmother was inviting a priest to the wedding, and I didn't know he was the love of my life when we first met.
It seems that everything has changed for the better since I met him. In fact, I also know that it is not because I met him, but because I am becoming normal.
I run the cafe very well, and the "chatty wedsday" on Wednesday is full of seats. People even have to sit outside to have a chance to chat.
I also don't see Boo so often, although I still miss her in my heart.
Of course the constant is that I've been encouraging Claire to leave her unhappy marriage and the perverted man Martin who tried to touch me after all.
Maybe I'm more attractive.
I couldn't help but go to the priest. After all, he was the only person at the dinner table who was left to wait for my wounds to be healed, and he was a kind man.
No, he's not just kind, he's cute.
I like kind and lovely men.
I'm going to the priest to confess, for everything that has happened, for what I've lost.
Maybe deep down I want to be redeemed, because the destruction caused by the overflow of lust is the destruction I can't bear.
I was thinking about how to get him to sleep, so I went to him in the middle of the night with wine. Language was a strong catalyst.
I want to approach him step by step.
can i?
Can't I?
A man who has dedicated himself to God.
The first and only time I spoke out about Boo's death. Only God knows what happened next, and of course the dim light in the confession room also witnessed everything.
I knew I would be attracted to the priest, I just didn't know the love came so unexpectedly.
Of course this love is what I have been longing for.
Love, sweet and heartbreaking love.
The priest said I love you, but I love God more.
The priest said that people make mistakes.
The priest said that love hurts.
The priest also said that love will pass away.
So the priest left my life after we experienced perfect love.
Maybe as my father said, I know love better than anyone, so I feel love is painful.
Maybe it's the perfect love, but love can't.
Maybe love really wants to touch and withdraw.
It will pass.
But anyway, at least I still have the Bible, at least I still have the ability to love.
I can also find a place to hold all my love.
everything will get better.
(2) Claire
My name is Claire and I am a mature lady with a Burberry trench coat, assortment of skincare products, a successful career and a happy family.
But actually my husband secretly kisses my sister, and my stepson, who has reached puberty, has to bathe with me.
I seriously want to care about my sister's living conditions, but no matter how embarrassed she is, she will only tell me that everything is fine. It wasn't until we went on the meditation trip my dad sent us together that we finally opened up and talked a lot about my ideals and my life, and of course hers.
It's very strange. My intuition believed that Martin molested my sister, but my reason told me that she had a criminal record and that she slept with her best friend's husband. Wouldn't she seduce her brother-in-law? So I choose to trust my husband.
But I still had doubts in my heart, so I hesitated and decided to work in Finland. I didn't expect to meet Claire, a man with the same name as me, at work, and this strange electromagnetic field made us fall in love very quickly.
I was pregnant, I had a miscarriage, but I wasn't ready to tell Martin.
Maybe I am still struggling to be a good woman, not abandoning my husband, even if he is a complete scumbag; not abandoning my stepson, even if he is more than emotionally dependent on me.
I was trying to make a change, so I got a weird haircut, a really weird kind of haircut, a haircut that was so different from my usual image.
But the effect of this hairstyle drove me crazy, so I called my sister.
I sensed a strange connection between the pastor and his sister. Yes, that strong overflowing attraction between two people.
I met Claire at my stepmother's art fair, so I finally made up my mind to get out of this quagmire, why not?
I always envy my sister's flamboyant and wanton love, so why can't I be brave once for myself?
Who says women with lingerie don't deserve happiness?
I'm free, I'm going to find my own happiness.
Public account: Self-cultivation of American drama fans
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