Tamriko SholiInside a woman. Candid stories about women's destinies, desires and feelings. Inside a woman download fb2 Tamriko sholi inside a man download epub

Tamriko Sholi

Inside a woman

Dedicated to the main women in my life - grandmother, mother, sister

He stood opposite me and did not change at all. A beautiful shirt, neat stubble, precise words. Everything that I loved him for before.

- Thank you for agreeing.

He leaned down to kiss my cheek. I allowed: you need to be able to accept your past.

Our table was in the farthest corner of the room. Checkered tablecloth, short menu, waiter in a green apron. The rain outside the window was indeed heavy, not at all typical for August. I took the recorder out of my bag and put it on the table.

- Why me? - he asked.

- Because I loved you. Do you remember - it didn’t last long, but it was very strong.

- That’s why too: you still remember.

Yes, we were together and then we understood each other perfectly. Each meeting was like the last, and one day it happened. We parted easily, almost without words, although I cried later, remembering his hands.

It was a strange time.

I just published my book “Inside the Man” and, after conducting two hundred and one intimate interviews, I realized with horror that men are not to blame for anything. The problem was me. And as a woman, I wasn’t even born yet. I changed my dresses, but they didn’t make me particularly want to take them off. And I hated dresses. Sunrises, sunsets, rain, sun, a cup on the table, change in your pocket. I woke up in the morning and didn’t feel like a woman, I went to bed and didn’t feel like a woman. It was a surefire way to lose interest in life. There were rumors in society and among friends that my every day was a French carousel, and I was in no hurry to dispel their beliefs with my sadness. I was not a woman, and I was sad at that.

There was always red fish and a bottle of white wine in the refrigerator. I didn't feel like cooking at all. There were two options: go to the East, wrapped in a shawl from the suffocating feeling of loneliness, or understand yourself. I made the decision lazily and for a long time, still hoping that someone would do it for me. The closet was still full of dresses that I didn't dare wear.

Good thoughts usually come to me in the fall, and it was the same this time. Among the wet leaves on the cooled ground and empty park benches, I realized that I finally wanted to meet myself. I want to hug, I want to give, I want to hear. For this I needed a hundred intimate interviews with women.

I picked up the recorder again and traveled through personal stories, this time women’s stories. In rain and shine, in a noisy bar and at home in the kitchen, they confessed to me their mistakes, desires and lust. And no matter how old their past became, talking about it, they relived every detail and every word. That’s why the women’s project was much harder for me. And if among men I looked for my former lovers, whom I once could not, but really wanted to understand, then among women I looked for myself.

One hundred real women and about the same number of biographies read and documentaries watched. This is not much, but I can still say that each of us has something that we are silent about. It seems that this is exactly the smell that makes men turn around. Wonderful. After all, this means that every woman will one day be followed by someone very important.

A hundred shades of feelings, a hundred life options. I have lived each of these stories and am ready to tell you how they changed me. That's what I needed him for - to write down my story.

– Will you tell me what I didn’t have time to ask?

- With pleasure.

– And you were less warm before.

- I have changed.

- And how did you do it?

I met his gaze and immediately remembered the eyes of the women who had revealed their intimate thoughts to me. These were amazing eyes that are now looking at you.

The waiter brought ice cream with orange shavings sprinkled on top. And I was afraid that Lera would turn out to be a doll - a blonde, infantile joy for a wealthy man. In vain.

Her straight hair reached to her waist, and a pendant with a pearl drop hung on her neck. She was wearing summer colored trousers and a white silk T-shirt with a low neckline.

“Of course, at first I ran from him. She didn’t answer calls, and if she answered, she said some nonsense, like I couldn’t meet him because I needed to buy dried apricots or vacuum the apartment. Then she agreed. Because I was bored that evening and didn’t want to sit at home. I was ashamed of him, of course: he is twenty-seven years older, and it shows. We drank then, and I began to imagine that he had a wrinkled ass and sagging breasts. What will my girls say? I urgently lied that I had a cat at home with meningitis and called a taxi. And he came again a few days later and said that he adored my sense of humor. And that I shouldn’t be afraid of anything, because he will do everything himself. And he kept his promise. A man who keeps his promise - what else does a woman need to be happy?

I glanced at the stuffy street. Ten out of ten. The only reason I won't answer a man's phone anymore is because he throws out his promises like plastic frisbees. Yellow, red, green... A man with an eternal plastic plate in his hands looks more like a schoolboy bored during the holidays.

- How did you meet?

- At a friends wedding. I thought he was someone's father and continued to consider younger candidates. Towards the end of the evening, Sasha finally invited me to dance and began asking questions. I immediately realized that he liked me. Girls feel it, you know,” Lera winked at me. The ice cream was melting in our cups; we wanted to plunge into the icy pool. “I don’t remember what he told me there, but I still left him my phone number. All because it was clear that he didn’t just need sex from me. And this is always captivating.

How captivating. For some reason, most men believe that we are not able to distinguish when they want to drag us into bed and when they want to drag us into their hearts. There are, of course, assholes who have learned to pass one thing off as another with grace, but this is a rare species. The rest are easy to identify by smell at this moment. And they whisper not into your ear, but into your eyes. It all depends on the woman’s desire to see reality.

- When did he call?

- A week later. I knew that he would definitely call, but I didn’t wait. Then my escapes from him began, which I already told you about, and finally the meeting. “Oh,” Lera exhaled and laughed. “He was wearing blue sneakers and a bright shirt.” Tried to look younger.

I raised my eyebrows. It was hard to imagine how funny his appearance was, because I didn’t know what he looked like. Lera realized and found in mobile phone Sasha's photo.

His entire head was covered with gray hair. In the corners of the eyes there were “crow’s feet” - those wrinkles that appear if you squint a lot. He wasn't handsome, but he was well-groomed and sexy as hell.

– Listen, but he’s really okay. I don't understand why you were running from him.

- Because it’s not supposed to be that way. Young girls are not supposed to be with older, wealthy men. What will the parents say? What will your friends say? What will people say? What will I say myself? What will happen to sex in ten years? Can and does he want to have children? How is his health? You know, being a woman means asking yourself a million questions. For men, everything is simple: yes or no. And we always have “fifty shades of gray” and “9 1/2 weeks.” And this is understandable. Because society always has more questions for women than for men. In any situation. So she tries to find all the answers at once, before uttering even a sound. Our attempt to analyze everything point by point is an instinct of self-preservation.

– You dug deep.

- I had to. Do you know how many thoughts I changed my mind before answering “yes” to him? – Lera showed me the wedding ring on her finger. The combination of white and yellow gold looked quite elegant, especially on her thin finger. “It just seems so, that later you can always just pick up and leave.”

- And why did you say yes to him?

– Protection. He gave me a 100% feeling of protection. It seems to me that only those men who are not afraid of anything can do this. Those whose brains are absolutely calm. And not theatrically, but for real. He then told me that he would do everything himself - and he really does.

– It seems to me that this comes to a man with age. At eighteen, a man may also not be afraid of anything, but he still doesn’t know what he wants. He does everything with shouting and slogans. He's marking his territory or something. And as you get older, you no longer need to scream. You can show your right to something with one single glance. And I confess to you - my secret idol is Leonard Cohen. And in its current incarnation.

It was absolutely true. Today there is no greater pleasure for me than listening to old Leonard Cohen. With wrinkles and a hoarse voice, he sings about loving a woman as if he were having an affair with you personally. In the video he is over 70, and I can’t take my eyes off the corners of his lips that say “Hallelujah.” I can’t take my eyes off how he smokes and looks completely calmly to the side, singing about a thousand deep kisses. My God, the old man in the black double-breasted coat became my personal prelude to heaven.

And then I remembered how I look at Al Pacino, covered with wrinkles. How I read Serge Gainsbourg. Like I listen to Tom Waits or Steve Tyler.

Assholes through whose hands girls and women passed. How many beautiful words did they manage to say it in their lifetime? How many times have they spread a woman's thighs and penetrated her? How many times did they explain something into the phone, how many times did they grab their hair, how many times did they leave and come back and how many didn’t... How their body became covered with wrinkles, and their hands became strong and clear: now they know how to touch . And how many words need to be said, and how many to remain silent. And the cigarette in their hands smokes not from pathos, but from the fact that it is a cigarette. And gray hair becomes not due to age, but to the experience of touch.

Because there is nothing more erotic than listening to a man who knows what he is talking about. Because there is nothing more sensual than a man who knows how to touch. When he doesn’t need to be pushed, but only inspired. When he knows the value of your gaze and is able to quite consciously say “Hallelujah” next to you. And this makes you feel like both Madonna and Marina Tsvetaeva at the same time.

And I don’t understand at all when twenty-year-old actors or musicians are called sex symbols. They may be beautiful, talented, interesting, cool, but it’s definitely not about sex. A sex symbol is first and foremost an experience.

And when young girls connect their lives with men fifteen years older than them, there is something in this, in the contact of youth and experience.

And I myself cannot fully understand myself. What is this – a longing for male confidence and classic gender? When you are definitely a woman, and he is definitely a man, without shades and “buts”? Or do I just need to listen to Cohen less at night? Leonardocoeno-overdose - write it down like that.

Be that as it may, I have already given myself permission to look at men much older than myself without any underlying reason or shame. Wow. I gave myself permission.

- You are lucky.

Lera pursed her lips and leaned back in her chair. Our ice cream cups are empty.

– Many people say so, Tamriko. But there is another side.

- What do you mean?

- Well, let's start with ourselves, loved ones. Every girl dreams of growing up and marrying a handsome prince. But how many girls do you know who are willing to agree to live with an ugly man? Who, in principle, allow such an idea? And now I’m not talking about mercantile prostitutes who are ready to lie down under any pig, I’m talking about completely decent girls. How many times in their lives does each of them turn up their nose in the style of “he doesn’t deserve me”? Falling from heaven to earth is, you know, not so easy. There were much more handsome men hanging around me. After I officially introduced Sasha to my friends for the first time, they didn’t talk to me for a week. My sister tried to convince me not to contact him for a month. It was such a difficult decision to make. Everyone is accustomed to the idea that they should have only the best. Both from the facade and inside. But it doesn't always work out that way. And you need to muster up the courage to agree with what life gives you and in what form. But that's not all. Then, when everyone got used to Sasha... If only you knew how tired I am of the snot of my female acquaintances, who endlessly reproach me: “Of course, what should you say, you’re so lucky.” That is, at first there was horror, horror, and then - “you’re so lucky, you should be silent.” We are designed this way: others have green grass from God, from a happy accident, but not from the fact that he spent nights caring for this grass, and spent days watering every leaf with his own sweat. Have you ever wondered why envy is considered a bad feeling? Because envy arises when it seems to us that this fell from the sky for people. And when you understand that a person fought for what he has, you don’t feel envy at all. You gain confidence that you can do this too.

Inside a Woman - description and summary, author Sholi Tamriko, read for free online on the website of the electronic library ParaKnig.me

Tamriko Sholi (Shoshiashvili) – journalist and writer, author of the acclaimed book “Inside a Man”, presents its continuation. These are frank stories different women, who did not hesitate to tell the most secret things about themselves.

“I... picked up a voice recorder and traveled through personal stories... - women's ones. In rain and shine, in a noisy bar and at home in the kitchen, they confessed to me their mistakes, desires and lust. And no matter how old their past became, talking about it, they relived every detail and every word... And I was looking... among women - for myself.

One hundred real women and about the same number of biographies read and documentaries watched. This is not much, but I can still say that each of us has something that we are silent about. It seems that this is exactly the smell that makes men turn around. Wonderful. After all, this means that every woman will one day be followed by someone very important...

A hundred shades of feelings, a hundred life options. I lived each of these stories and am ready to tell how they changed me,” this is what Tamriko herself says about this book.

Tamriko Sholi

Inside a woman

Dedicated to the main women in my life - grandmother, mother, sister

He stood opposite me and did not change at all. A beautiful shirt, neat stubble, precise words. Everything that I loved him for before.

- Thank you for agreeing.

He leaned down to kiss my cheek. I allowed: you need to be able to accept your past.

Our table was in the farthest corner of the room. Checkered tablecloth, short menu, waiter in a green apron. The rain outside the window was indeed heavy, not at all typical for August. I took the recorder out of my bag and put it on the table.

- Why me? - he asked.

- Because I loved you. Do you remember - it didn’t last long, but it was very strong.

- That’s why too: you still remember.

Yes, we were together and then we understood each other perfectly. Each meeting was like the last, and one day it happened. We parted easily, almost without words, although I cried later, remembering his hands.

It was a strange time.

I just published my book “Inside the Man” and, after conducting two hundred and one intimate interviews, I realized with horror that men are not to blame for anything. The problem was me. And as a woman, I wasn’t even born yet. I changed my dresses, but they didn’t make me particularly want to take them off. And I hated dresses. Sunrises, sunsets, rain, sun, a cup on the table, change in your pocket. I woke up in the morning and didn’t feel like a woman, I went to bed and didn’t feel like a woman. It was a surefire way to lose interest in life. There were rumors in society and among friends that my every day was a French carousel, and I was in no hurry to dispel their beliefs with my sadness. I was not a woman, and I was sad at that.

There was always red fish and a bottle of white wine in the refrigerator. I didn't feel like cooking at all. There were two options: go to the East, wrapped in a shawl from the suffocating feeling of loneliness, or understand yourself. I made the decision lazily and for a long time, still hoping that someone would do it for me. The closet was still full of dresses that I didn't dare wear.

Good thoughts usually come to me in the fall, and it was the same this time. Among the wet leaves on the cooled ground and empty park benches, I realized that I finally wanted to meet myself. I want to hug, I want to give, I want to hear. For this I needed a hundred intimate interviews with women.

I picked up the recorder again and traveled through personal stories, this time women’s stories. In rain and shine, in a noisy bar and at home in the kitchen, they confessed to me their mistakes, desires and lust. And no matter how old their past became, talking about it, they relived every detail and every word. That’s why the women’s project was much harder for me. And if among men I looked for my former lovers, whom I once could not, but really wanted to understand, then among women I looked for myself.

One hundred real women and about the same number of biographies read and documentaries watched. This is not much, but I can still say that each of us has something that we are silent about. It seems that this is exactly the smell that makes men turn around. Wonderful. After all, this means that every woman will one day be followed by someone very important.

A hundred shades of feelings, a hundred life options. I have lived each of these stories and am ready to tell you how they changed me. That's what I needed him for - to write down my story.

– Will you tell me what I didn’t have time to ask?

- With pleasure.

– And you were less warm before.

- I have changed.

- And how did you do it?

I met his gaze and immediately remembered the eyes of the women who had revealed their intimate thoughts to me. These were amazing eyes that are now looking at you.

In this book you will not find any appeals, propaganda, or any advice. These are just a few personal stories and food for thought.

All names have been changed, any similarities are not accidental.

It was a stuffy summer. In a long white top with a huge blue bow tie, I listened to Edith Piaf and prepared for the meeting. I tried to imagine what Valeria looks like and find something in unison. So, she is twenty-six years old, and her husband is fifty-three. What might a young girl look like who loves a man ripped with wrinkles and gray hair? What kind of clothes and food can a girl like who goes to bed every night with a man three years older than her father?

She can look like anything. I stopped “La vie en rose” in the middle, put on a cream translucent dress, so long that it hit the floor, and booked a table in the city center.

Dossier

Name: Valeria

Age: 26

Profession: lawyer

Marital status: Married

Financial situation: comfortable

Living conditions: three-room apartment

Additional bonus: the ability to admit your shortcomings

I was 18 years old when a 58-year-old professor became interested in me. He was tall, with gray hair and wearing a blue jacket. He told me interesting stories and made non-trivial compliments. They sounded so old-fashioned to me or something. And he touched me only a few times - when he offered his hand for me to get out of the car. I kept wanting to call him Yesenin. Of course, I didn’t match him at all, and I was much younger than him, and I was still afraid that someone would see me with him. What he saw in me is completely unclear. I’m in my second year – it’s time for tight leggings and jam on my fingers. Maybe he was pleased to see me listening attentively to him. But I didn’t just listen - I stuck to his words like double-sided tape. But this was not enough: I stopped responding to his voice as soon as a soul-torn fellow student appeared in my life. I never saw this professor again.

“Great dress,” Lera pulled me out of the sea of ​​memories. “In this heat, all I want is a transparent shawl and cold water.” I can’t imagine how these girls in jeans even breathe. And also these long hair and shine on the lips... But beauty requires sacrifice. Especially if you want to keep a man close to you.

- You want?

“That’s all I do.”

“I thought he was trying to keep you.”

“Of course he... He thinks so,” Lera laughed. – To fight for a man means to make him think that he is fighting for you.

I immediately and irrevocably liked Lera, and I decided that I would talk to her for a long time, until we both lost our voices. Because you can’t just let go of a person you like: it’s such a rarity - a pleasant conversationalist. You must definitely get enough of it, because in a world where there are so many unforeseen circumstances, every meeting may be the last.

June

Sandy Hook, Kentucky

Roni, damn you, what have you done this time?

Roni Andrews tried to hide her grin at the sound of Taber's voice echoing down the hallway of the state prison. She sat down again on the uncomfortable bench, trying to look indifferent. Surely she will show him that she was scared. And she was afraid of him.

He is two meters tall, his body is a concentration of powerful muscles, his facial expression is impenetrable and detached. Her heart began to beat with fear and excitement at the same time. She can cope with fear. But there are always problems with excitement. Roni first recognized this sensation when she turned sixteen. It became stronger a few months ago, when she turned twenty-two. At night it burned her body, and this terrified Roni.

Roni happily felt the touch of a cold stone wall on her back. It became a little easier to endure this suffocating heat. The air conditioning had not worked since the night before, and the cells were stuffy.

Fortunately, the old jailer Mort opened the windows, easing her suffering.

The heavy sound of Taber's boots on the stone floor made her close her eyes. He only did this when he was angry about something. Roni carefully pulled an expression of languid joy onto her face. I didn't want him to understand how scared she was that she managed to anger him.

Not that Taber could harm her. Deep down, Roni knew that he wouldn’t dare lay a finger on her. But there was something about the angry Taber. Something primal, predatory. He was not the kind of man you wanted to have as your enemy.

Unfortunately, Roni had problems, and Taber somehow helped her out time after time. She was terrified by the thought that one day he might simply tire of being her knight in shining armor and turn away from her.

A couple of moments later he was already standing at the door, strong arms stretched along his slender hips, a gloomy expression frozen on his proud tanned face. Damn, she wanted to rub against him like a cat. Taber was tall and muscular, with broad shoulders, a flat, powerful chest, and a toned belly that she longed to touch.

Long strong legs were clad in faded jeans, but of course she wouldn't look at... oh damn. The bulge between her legs looked impressive. With difficulty, Roni forced herself to look at his face.

Taber's eyes narrowed, anger blazing in their jade-green depths. She swallowed hard. He doesn't seem particularly happy to see her this morning.

“I didn’t fucking do anything,” she said sharply, allowing her awakened sensuality to fill her body with anger. - I just stood there, Taber. Honestly. This sheriff is just crazy.

She tried to hide her amusement. Of course he knew she was lying. Taber always sensed her lies.

I have to leave you to rot here,” Roni adored that growl that betrayed anger. His voice sounded lower and vibrated like... like a cat's. And she loved cats.

Suddenly his expression became unreadable. No anger, no anger. Like a fucking robot.

Tension and coldness appeared on Taber’s face, and she shuddered again, this time from a different reaction. Roni hated it when he did that, hated it when he hid feelings he might have had from her.

Are you going to get me out of here or what? - She asked sharply, feeling pain from his distance. “It’s fucking hot here, Taber, and it’s getting hotter.”

For many reasons.

He sighed, shaking his head, as if nothing more had been expected from Roni this morning. Apart from problems, of course. But this expression was still better than that “I don’t know you” look that she hated so much.

I need to kick your ass. - He stepped aside as the jailer, a man of about fifty, unlocked the cell door with a knowing smirk on his lips.

Roni didn't try to hide the trembling that ran through her body at the sound of his deep voice. He can spank her whenever he wants, she thought. As much as he wants. And then he could kiss her and ease the pain. The thought of this made her hide her smile, as well as the trembling that ran through her body.

Spank me, Daddy,” she purred softly, rising from the bench and heading towards the door.

He snorted displeasedly.

Your father definitely didn't raise you while he was here, otherwise you wouldn't be playing with fire.

Roni slid past him and headed towards Mort's desk, where the sheriff had tossed her things last night. Bending down to pick up her things, she showed Taber part of her back. She literally felt his gaze caressing her skin.

Hanging her bag over her arm, she turned and gave Taber a bright smile.