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Crazy Elin

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DUCKPOND (Radsoft) — The crew behind the astroturf campaign #prataomdet were sure a crazy bunch. It was all fake of course. But the real revelation is what a bunch of fruitcakes they were.

Kajsa Borgnäs was one. Borgnäs was busted the other week for shoplifting. She stole five outrageously expensive books in an obviously 'expert' fashion. One of them was 'interactive' for Borgnäs to fill in with compliments for her lesbian lover. When she was caught, the 29yo Borgnäs complained that it was rough trying to get by on half a student loan.

Here's another to add to the list: Elin Grelsson. Another one of the leaders of #prataomdet. Grelsson was once quoted as saying: 'a white Swedish man has no place trying to define racism'. She's also in and out of psychiatric wards. But she can condemn Julian Assange without ever meeting him.

There you go.

There's just girls I haven't fucked yet
By Elin Grelsson

It's Saturday morning and I wake up out of a sex dream about Izzie in Grey's Anatomy. Yeah Izzie. She's got to be the most classic hetero of all the female characters, embracing the myth of the Ordinary Straight Girl in her manifestation.

In the dream I play the role of the dangerous seductress, someone with total control who lures poor straight Izzie into the boudoir. And tells her:

'Baby I know you really want me despite your sheen of supposed heterosexuality.'

'But I'm straight!' protests Izzie.

'There's no such thing as a straight girl', I tell her. 'There's just girls I haven't fucked yet.'

So I seduce Izzie and fuck her and afterwards she looks at me with those big doe eyes of hers and says:

'That was the best sex I ever had - goddamn!'

I caress her cheek and explain:

'Of course it was baby - you had sex with me!'

A long day's journey to evening, and after drinking almost a whole bottle of Southern Comfort, I drive down, the Amsterdam girl and me, to the queer club. I'm dressed like I'd never be dressed at a straight club, regardless of whether it's 'pretto place' or a meat market - dressed in linen with a top that's too short, almost see-through, and with a deep decolletage and with a golden bikini top underneath. It broadcasts 'slut'. Yes I say 'slut' and I say 'who cares'.

So I'm on the dance floor and I don't care if I'm dancing too provocatively, too pornographically. I'm so drunk I can hardly stand on my feet and I don't give a fuck if I embarrass myself. I feel secure here, it feels great at any rate. I get compliments and looks, I accept them without difficulty, just smiling back - I'm busy now as you can see, unfortunately! I'm a queen all night long, this despite my slutty appearance and my really bad drunk.

I'm always the ruler of the girls. I always have been. I'm always the woman who caresses the supposedly straight girl on the cheek and says of course baby you've had the best sex of your life, you've fucked me. I'm very confident of my power over the girls despite never understanding it.

But I like it. I giggle a little to myself when I notice how the Amsterdam girl's drunken eyes have a more and more difficult time of focusing on my face instead of on my deep decolletage when we talk. I feel proud and of course I'm happy when the Blonde - she who never got to appear on the blog and wasn't in my stories about the women in my life either - together with the Dark-Haired succeeded in marking my sadness in the relationship with my former boyfriend that spring.

She was the last girl I thought would come out as lesbian, exactly like Izzie when we went to high school together. An obvious super-hetero, an ordinary boring girl. She was the type I despised and I presumed she and her footie boyfriend despised me as well. Many years later she was flirting outright with me behind her boyfriend's back. The Blonde is there, caressing my arm, saying it's a loss and a shame for humanity I am again in a heterosexual monogamous relationship. I shrug my shoulders and smile.

'I fell in love.'

She talks on about my fantastic personality, my sexy body, it shouldn't be locked into a relationship. I sit on the bar stool between her and the Amsterdam girl, very sure of myself, very self-aware and happy at that point.

Me and the women. It's always been so much easier than me and the men. I've always had to position myself amongst the men. Had to choose my role. Be the Sweet Girl who giggles, makes big eyes, and agrees to things. I'm only her amongst men who are extra sure of themselves, dangerously beautiful and completely bad. Or the Slut who dances too provocatively in a miniskirt and takes what she wants and goes porn in bed. Or the Intellectual who writes on her nose and sits where she's supposed to and takes every opportunity to discuss and refer to and talk about her art and her studies so everyone understands how smart she is. Or One of the Guys who tells dirty jokes, bitches, talks about tits, is cocky and wearisome.

Always choosing a role, a position, often not even consciously. Then to need to fight to show I can be something else too, as sure I'm smart but that doesn't mean I can't be instinctively horny. And sure I'm cute and girly but hold on a minute - I've got a lot of smart thoughts too! Or to simply realise I can't be everything, accept my limitations from the outset. Yeah but now they think I'm a smart girl, so I can't just turn around and be ugly horny and too sexual, what will he think? Yeah but now they think I'm an admiring girl so I can't start talking about big tits - what kind of signals would that send out? The gaze of the male individual, no matter how wonderful and adoring it is, is also an objective gaze from a society telling me what framework I have to remain within. A framework that stereotypes and generalises and categorises women. It's not the fault of the male individual but it's nevertheless his projection of an attitude towards me and the world around. That in the best case gives me assurance and lets me grow but in many cases crushes my self-confidence and makes me feel lacking.

It's never like that with the girls. I've always been Elin with the girls. A girly sweet slut with a lot of smart thoughts who tells a lot of dirty jokes. She's been admired, liked, and loved - just like that. There it's only me. There I'm only queen and self-confidence. Someone who caresses the cheek of the heterosexual girl and tells her 'baby there are no straight girls, there's only girls I haven't fucked yet'.

How come I had to devote all of the month of January to crying as soon as I got up in the morning, lying in a foetal position, shaking, and sitting in the waiting room at the psychiatric clinic?
- Elin Grelsson