My ex-girlfriend comes to visit me together with her family: father, mother, and brother.
We are in an outdoor place, and it is hot, so we don’t wear too many layers of clothing.
I speak with my ex’s father while the mother talks with a friend, a kinky friend who has little scruples.
While I am talking with the father, I see my friend having intercourse with my ex’s mother in the background in a corner.
I don’t know what would be the husband’s reaction if he noticed this fornication taking place just a few meters behind his back, with both the son and the daughter at close distance.
I continue the conversation anyway; just a bit worried that my ex’s brother might cross the mother paring with a random guy; this makes me wish that the process of copulation will not be too long and that the madame would not be too loud.
Pondering about what would happen if a son discovers his mother having sex with someone who is not the father, I wake up.
BACK TO REALITY
I got a message on Tinder. After a few lines, the girl at the other side writes me, in Finnish, “come to visit us.”
The following (telegraphic)message she sends, contains her phone number.
SCAM OR LOVE?
I think that the tinder message is a scam or some catfishing. But I am curious, so I call the number expecting the person on the other side to be a man or even a bot!
A female voice replies.
My tinder match speaks only Finnish and tells me straight away an address where I should go, including the internal door number.
The girl also asks me to buy beers and tells me that she is with dogs, without specifying how many.
I DECIDE TO GO
At this point, I am uncertain if meeting her is a good decision. I wonder a few minutes, but it’s sunny outside, I have been at home all day, and the address she gave me is thirteen kilometers away. This all means that I can ride my bike for at least thirty minutes, so I jump on the bike, and I go.
She called me several times, insisting on me going there; I try to figure out why.
I get her last call when I am on the bike; therefore, I don’t answer; I plan to text her when I arrive.
It’s Friday night; I suppose that my tinder date was drinking; this explains why she wants to meet spontaneously. Or maybe she has been for a long time alone, and now she wants some company. Could be.
While we were on the phone with her, I didn’t hear any other voices, so I exclude the hypothesis of a group of people making a joke.
It happened to me, in the past, to get invited somewhere just for a joke, but it was not too bad, so I take the risk.
ARRIVED, IT’S DESERT
I arrive, the address exists. The street looks calm and empty. There are not many people around, but yes, we are in Finland, so that’s normal.
I write her a message, and in the meantime, I think about what I will find there, and I wonder why she tried to call me one more time.
What did she want to tell me?
A CLOSED DOOR IN FRONT OF ME
Waiting outside a closed door, I think that she wanted perhaps to cancel the date. She had maybe another date with someone else, and it could be that this person is there now.
It would not be the first time that something like this happens.
IT COULD BE DANGEROUS
I don’t think much about the dangers of the situation; I don’t imagine that there could be a serial killer or a monster in that apartment.
My main point is that it’s better to consider people goodhearted until proven that they are evil.
I MANAGE TO GET IN
The building door is in front of me, and it’s closed.
I write and call my date, but she does not reply.
Several minutes are passing, and I am starting to get annoyed by that; I think that it’s maybe the case of leaving. After all, I had a nice bike ride in the nature, which is still a good thing.
Right when I am about to unmatch her and leave, a person enters the building, and I get in too.
I remember that my Tinderella told me the apartment number on the phone, so there I go.
Once in front of the door, there is a noise of dogs barking.
I try to listen a little more before knocking to understand if there are more people there, if it is a scam, a party, or something strange.
KNOCKING AT THE DOOR
I think that Finland is a safe place, I don’t believe that a psycho may open the door, so I knock, hopeful to have a lovely weekend.
THE DOOR OPENS
Once the door opens, I understand various things.
I see that she is alone, with two dogs, and she is not in a normal state of mind.
THINKING ABOUT SERIAL KILLERS
I start thinking about serial killers, seven of them have been counted in Finland:
# Name: Number of victims:
1. Juhani Aataminpoika 12
2. Aino Nykopp-Koski 5
3. Ismo Junni 5
4. Matti Haapoja 3 – 25
5. Antti Taskinen 3
7. Ensio Koivunen 3
The only being alive is Michael Pentholm, who the FBI regards with a higher profile than the others.
He strangled his victims with his own hands, committing his last murder just in 2018.
THE HORROR OF MEETING HER
She looks pregnant, but I discover soon that her belly is not hosting any embryo.
I brought some drinks with me because she asked for them.
When I arrived, the first thing I do is open two beers and give one to her.
Her nonsense talking makes things difficult between us; I realize that she is totally drunk; her belly is filled not with a baby to be but with bubbly ale.
While she is still drinking her beer, not having enough from just holding one can, she takes the beer I am drinking from my hands and swallows it as it was water.
The situation is similar to a person smoking two cigarettes at the same time.
She behaves like I don’t exist; I spent my time playing with her dog, which turns out to be more interesting than her.
I attempt many times to interact with her, regardless of her mono-syllable communication and constant melodic burping.
SUDDEN UNEXPECTED NOISE
Suddenly, I hear a sound coming from her side while she lies supine on the couch.
It’s not the sound that you would expect in a romantic date; it is not a sound that turns you on; it’s for sure not a sound you wish to hear from your partner while you are talking to them.
If I had known about what is happening, I would have never come here; I would have avoided this situation at all costs.
The sound is distinct and surprising, and it’s a deep snoring sound.
I FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE
I am not getting much enjoyment from this date; therefore, I already think about leaving her, hoping that she would not push me to stay.
There are other beers that I brought, which I left on the table. Leaving beers in this house is like giving sugar to a person with diabetes.
The new challenge is to leave the house with the beers. I am worried that she would not like me taking the beers with me while going.
Her dog licks me everywhere. I start to have fun with the puppy so that my visit has at least a bright side. I am not talking of zoophilia here; I am being licked on the hands.
Since a while, I didn’t have contact with dogs; for some reason, dogs faded away from my life.
There was a period when I used to think that dogs are the most evident example of human dissatisfaction.
Someone once said that dogs are the most similar to humans maybe because they behave, at times, as brainlessly as humans.
SHE TAKES OFF HER PANTS
While playing with the dog, I almost forget about her. She is lying on the couch, alternating snoring with a crapulent silent face expression.
Suddenly she stands up and goes to the corridor. I follow her, attempting to get her to listen to me, telling her that I have to leave.
I have already planned how to take my beers with me to avoid her drinking more.
We stand in the corridor; she is constantly muttering.
I try to understand what she is doing and, more important, why she is taking off her pants.
With the bathroom door open, she sits on the WC, and I am just a few meters away.
After the first ‘sitting,’ she goes out of the bathroom and closes the second apartment door—in Finland, some apartments have two entrance doors—.
She goes on the WC again; there were still some drops left.
I RUN AWAY
I think that she wants something from me. I believe that she does not want me to leave. She wants possibly to keep all the beers, which I don’t want her to have.
I convince myself that I have to leave, but also the beers have to go with me.
She could get highly sick by drinking more, and I don’t want to be the cause of her destruction.
I need a plan; I have to find a way to get out of the doors with the beers. Indeed ‘doors’ cause they are two, and both closed now, after her peeing performance.
Once she lays again on the couch, starting her symphonic snoring masterpiece, I stand up, take the beers, say goodbye to the dog, and leave.
WILL WE MEET A SERIAL KILLER?
Movies, books, newspapers, television, radio, and even blogs have bombarded us with killer´s stories.
We all fear serial killers, don’t we?
Why? Because serial killer tales are triggering our curiosity and emotions.
If we knew that the odds of meeting a serial killer, with online dating, are 1 in 160,000 or 0.00000625% , we would relax more.
This means that in order to have a chance of crossing our paths with a serial killer, we should have dated 160,000 people.
The chances are diminishing every day, because the number of serial killer is plundering.
If we focused on the fact that cars kill more than guns, we would trust each other more.
If we would be careful in the right circumstances, we would then take precautions for mosquitos, not for sharks.
Mosquitos kill every day the number of people that sharks kill in one hundred years.
Technology is not always helping us.
Pictures and videos may give us memories that we should have forgotten to live healthier and in the present.
We should follow the example of animals, living in the now all the time. They don’t have pictures to watch that would bring them back in the time, with sorrow.MASS MEDIA, VIDEOS, PICTURES, AND TECHNOLOGY
The 21st century is the worst age for a serial killer.
Tinder is the worst tool for a serial killer:
Finland is probably the worst country for a serial killer: highly digitalized and it has the best police that one can imagine.
It’s probably not a good idea to be a serial killer in Finland.
Neither is a good idea to be a serial killer anywhere else.
I trust people, and I have rarely regretted it; because, in the worst case, I had a story to tell.