willemjanmeerding-blog

[willemjanmeerding-blog]

Christiana

[willemjanmeerding-blog]

Willem Jan Meerding

(SEE SCREENSHOTS AT THE END OF THE STORY)

 THE SANCTIMONIOUS CHURCH GOER - OR, GOUDA’S SEX PERVERT.

 And he emailed me: “You are the one and only, who I want to walk with until the end starts”; quoting some of the words of Willem Jan Meerding. A little pathetic, I must admit…

So what do you think of a man who emails you a sentence like that? A little fishy, right? Well, maybe not if he is a devout follower of the Protestant Church of Gouda.

 But let me go back to the beginning of my story…

 Who has been to Gouda? A  dull, working-class town in the South of Holland, where a range of identical brown brick houses are laid next to each other and the famous Gouda cheese is made.

 Not many people I guess… Well, I have!!!

 There is a big square with an ancient church, and in fact… this brings us to our next discovery: The Protestant Church of Gouda!

 I came into contact with the Protestant Church of Gouda  in the person of Willem Jan Meerding, born in the above-mentioned village. I will henceforth call this man by his alias, Mr. W.; he is a handsome man – on the outside only- that I found on Tinder while spending some time in Amsterdam. Mr. W. had written on his profile that he was living in Utrecht, a charming town just south of Amsterdam. I doubt whether he would have had the same number of replies had he written he was living in Cheeseland!

By the way he had written on his profile that he was looking for a soulmate. And so was I! What a beautiful coincidence!

 It was a hot day and I met him in front of Amsterdam Central Station, that is one of Amsterdam’s most stunning landmarks unlike many other train stations in other cities that host the misery of the world. As soon as Mr. W. and I sat down I started engaging in some small talk, just like one usually does with a stranger on a first date, and I started showing him my vacation pictures but he stopped me right there, hand up in the air like one of God’s preachers and said: “I am not interested in your holiday pictures, I am looking for a soulmate and I want to find out if we are compatible”. “Pretty direct, right?  “I like that! No time-wasting. I am looking for a soulmate as well in the end” I thought. 

At the same time I caught him looking at my cleavage, which I was flattered with because I had put on a tight red sexy t-shirt just for him, in case he was hot…

I put those vacation pictures away and decided to be frank with him: I told him I was very afraid of being in a relationship again because my ex-partner had been cheating on me and that had destroyed me. I added: "You don't know what it's like to be cheated on by someone you love." And I told him I wished to take my time to get to know him and we didn't have to rush into anything.

 After an hour or so, my new Tinder date did come up with a couple of very odd remarks but my lonely heart and my horny vagina both made the mistake of ignoring those signs.

 Next Tuesday, dinner in Utrecht: the only time Mr. W. invited me out during the almost six months of our relationship. Utrecht is where he works.  Another sunny day: We were sitting at a terrace in front of a small canal and my brain decided in a time lapse that if I wanted things to work, despite my bad experiences with men, I had to trust this perfect stranger and give him a chance.

And that’s how I came to invite him to spend a few days at my place in the South of France in the coming month of July.

 Needless to say he accepted….

 During the coming days he was very pushy to have our relationship started and that's how I threw myself right into the lion's den…

 A host of of bad signs was following one another like black flies gather on horse shit, including the notorious: “I love you” uttered after a week he had known me. Actually, there is no better way of knowing that someone doesn’t love you when they tell you they love you after a week! All my past experience wasted this way….

Of course I wasn’t exchanging messages with men on Tinder anymore, assuming I was in a relationship! But after two weeks Mr W. showed me his Tinder profile asking me what I thought of it. I replied that he had to get rid of the "open-minded" sentence because in Dutch it can be interpreted as "Sexually open". His reply was: "Well, now that I met you I don't need to change it anymore. But after a couple of days I had the instinct of checking his Tinder profile again just to notice that he had polished it and had got rid of that "Open-minded" sentence in order to make himself more attractive. I was hurt and my instinct told me to break up with him. I said to myself: “Better now than later…” 

 But he was so desperate over this break up and pursued me so badly that I decided to give him another chance.  I have now learnt that the narcissist doesn’t like to be left. He needs to break up with a woman himself once he has decided that he is done with her.

 Here are quotes from his email to me: 

 “My Dear,

 I finally found the time to answer your email. We talked about this on the phone and thereafter, but I feel it is also good to give you my thoughts this way. I hope you will appreciate it and that it helps to bring us closer to each other.

 First of all I have no excuse for removing the "open-minded" from my Tinder profile. I had a reason for it, which was that it does not describe rightly who I am. At least when it is understood as "looking for an open relationship". But this is not meant as an excuse because I realize now very much that I brought you discomfort and that it hurted you. I apologize for that. Really, if I had foreseen that you had interpreted my act as being apparantly looking for other women and to be more attractive, I would never have done that. On the contrary, why would I give you this impression? You may call me naive or stupid, but this was not my intention. I would risk loosing you and that was (is) the least that I wanted... I look forward to giving you all that you desire, to accept who you are, and to make you stronger. I very much look forward to the next time I see you. Every moment with you feels great.”

 Sorry readers, Mr W's English is not as polished as his Tinder profile!

And that's how I forgave him… Little did I know at the time that he had transferred his Tinder contacts on his Whatsapp and the very same night he had written the above email he was texting some Stephanie woman to tell her he was not on Tinder anymore but they could Whatsapp.  

The months that followed saw some other disgraceful developments happen, including his picking up a pretty woman on the train in front of me! And I thought I might be overreacting after all....

 And the excuses I was giving him were never-ending: So many insensitive deeds and words did he show toward me, and was later shedding crocodile tears that I ended up thinking he might just be clumsy: and that’s how I came to nickname him Bridget Jones’ Brother.

 Another month had passed by and little did I know that apart from being in constant contact with his ex-girlfriend Meike – that I will henceforth call Minnie Mouse- he was dating and fucking other women!

 FYI: Minnie Mouse had broken up with him a year earlier and I soon noticed he was totally obsessed with her – what did I say before? The narcissist doesn’t like to be left. He hates it and refuses to let go!

 Seen how insensitive, selfish and unloving this man was I tried breaking up with him a few times but every time he came back to me in utter desperation talking for hours about our relationship and I ended up giving him another chance.

 Apart from the very many signs he was giving about not being faithful, his sex behavior was very close to weird! First of all, every time he came to see me in Amsterdam he would start kissing me, grabbing me by the ”pony” - just like the Donald-, lifting my skirt and stuff of the like in public places, giving the excuse that in Amsterdam everything was possible. I found that very embarrassing to say the least and put that on the account that he came from a small village and was happy to feel free in Amsterdam.

He hadn’t told me he was religious yet..

 So what about our sex life? You may now think that sex was the glue that was keeping us together, but no!!! Even that was a Curious Case! You would assume that a forty-eight year old man has experience with women, but it looked like his only form of experience was trying to imitate all the porn movies he was obviously used to watching.

 So, this is how our sex life went: he would penetrate me without foreplay whatsoever, when I was still dry, and start fucking me like a porn actor, with such roughness that very soon my poor vagina was on fire. I would have to tell him to stop hurting me and: “Can you please not forget about me and make me come?”  Hence, The Willem Jan Meerding Senior Advisor that had by then turned into a version of Rocco Siffredi's porn-star, would start inserting two or three fingers up my vagina with such roughness that it actually hurt as much as his penis. I was trying to get those fingers out of me but he wouldn’t let go and it took him two months to stop doing that.

 His only goal when fucking me was for him to come and he never had any interest in my pleasure, leaving it a mystery as to why a man who is almost fifty doesn’t know anything about the art of love-making.

  And since he could rarely come inside me, he would finish himself off by a vigorous jerk-off, during which he kept his eyes closed while I was left alone on a side watching the weird show and thinking: “ Who might he be thinking of now? Angelina Jolie or Scarlett Johansson?

 As the zealous reader of many relationship books, I spoke to him about this. In fact I had learned that a couple – yes, I still thought we were a monogamous couple- can solve everything through communication. I googled the problem and found a name for it: Retarded Ejaculation. It usually happens when the man doesn’t get excited by his partner but is fantasizing about other scenarios.

 I sent him many internet blogs, advised that we go see a couple therapist, for this and all our other problems, because our relationship didn’t flow naturally, because I didn’t feel he was connected to me, because I wasn’t happy, because something was wrong between us, but he refused saying he didn't need any therapy, nor did we as a couple.

 Now, five months had passed by and things were going worse and worse: I was so jealous and I didn’t know why. I thought he was cheating on me with his ex-girlfriend Minnie Mouse, unaware that his list of women was much longer! He was for sure obsessed with Minnie Mouse because she had broken up with him and he couldn’t have her.

 I went back to Rome for a while and when I went back to his place in Cheeseland on September 21, the first thing I did was run up to his bathroom and count his condoms. Yes, there were some condoms missing! But I thought: “Maybe I should still give him the benefit of the doubt!” Here is a precious piece of advice for my readers: missing condoms do not go together with doubt, they go together with certainty: The certainty of your man fucking other women!

 And after finding a twenty-two page diary on his living-room table about his Minnie Mouse, a postcard from her with a little heart and messages with lovely hearts and lemons in which they were calling each other darling and dear, I told him I was breaking up with him once and for all.

 His answer was that he couldn’t let her go because she was only a friend and I was dreaming, and then weirdly added –quote-“I had almost got her out of my system, thanks for bringing her up all the time!!!”

 After two weeks of crying in Rome and another pathetic email from him stating that there was a hole in his heart without me and I was "A gift from the Universe", we decided to get back together and he promised to stop all contacts with her.

 He said he would come to see me in Rome and I was waiting for a sort of Sleepless in Seattle movie, in which Tom Hanks takes the first available flight and goes searching for Meg Ryan on top of a skyscraper.

 But no! It took  Mr. W. three fucking weeks to come to Rome, to make sure his vacation would last at least five full days and that he wouldn't spend his money for nothing!

 I had put the missing condoms in the back of my mind and I was fantasizing about a romantic reunion, with lots of new ways of making love, reconnecting our souls and bodies that were now assuredly pervaded with an infusion of newfound love. Unfortunately my expectations were lowered by a vacation made of running around all day and the usual disconnection and insensitiveness on his part.

 And when my credit card was stolen on a Roman bus and I was left with no money,  Mr. W– after spending about a month for free at both my places in France and Italy without ever taking me out to dinner – made clear he could lend me some money provided I didn’t think he was a bank!

 Needless to say that after he left I told him how unhappy I was with the relationship, and that it might be beneficial for us to take some time off or at least some distance. But he categorically refused!

 On November 17 I went back to his place in Cheeseland.

First thing I did was run up to the bathroom again to see if some more condoms were missing, and yes! They were! And why was I rushing into his bathroom so frantically, with him still being downstairs, without waiting for the next Monday morning when he would be at work?

 That second twelve-day stay at his place soon turned into a nightmare that was even worse that my first stay:

 The third day I found a pair of women’s panties in his drawer and when I shoved them into his face he replied he had no idea who they belonged to and why they were in his drawer! I asked him to throw them away just to find out a few days later that he had hidden them in his backpack – obviously waiting for me to go back to Rome so that he could put them back in the drawer for Minnie Mouse or whoever else it was.

 To my surprise he was also showing his religious faith to an alarming extent: Being now proud of having become a Member of the Board of the Gouda church, he was praying before every meal and had become obsessed with mass. But still no connection with me! I was puzzled and didn’t know what to do.

 Another violent dispute broke out because Minnie Mouse’s birthday was handwritten on his bathroom calendar, but not mine, and neither did he remember when I was born, after almost six months of being together!

 The disconnection was now total on his part! So why did he introduce me to his sons and was planning on introducing me to his parents? By the way, I had been the one who hadn’t accepted to meet his family before, because I could feel that something was wrong with him.

 Does anyone know that song form Wankelmut and Emma Louise My head is a jungle? Yeyyy!!! My name is Mr. W. and my head is a very confused jungle! I am introducing my girlfriend -of whom I don’t give a shit - to the whole family so that I can keep on secretely fucking Minnie Mouse and the Coconut girls!

 Sex got even worse than ever that week: he was mistaking me every night for an inflatable doll, my genital hole being the only part of my body he was interested in. I was feeling so humiliated but didn’t want to give up and suggested a host of solutions, like watching more gentle videos about the art of love-making, asking him to discover the erogenous parts of my body, but none of that worked. I even gave him an erotic massage that he very much appreciated but forgot to reciprocate, that night and all of the following nights.

 My vagina was now on fire and I had to tell him to skip sex for one night. What was happening to me? I had always loved sex! So how can someone claim to love you and at the same time fuck you like this? And above all, if he doesn't give a shit about you, why doesn't he break up with you?

 The humiliations went on till the day I decided to do some sexy talk while he was fucking me the usual Rocco Siffredi’s way. I tried saying something exciting to see if things would get better but all I got was an abrupt:” Shut up! I was going to come, you ruined everything!”

 I started wondering what was the border between sex and rape...

“Well, he is still kissing me”. I thought. "It could be worse…"

For sure not as bad as his surprised face about the missing condoms and the panties in his drawer!

“I do not know where those panties come from; as for the condoms, it is a mystery to me!”. 

“What kind of mystery honey?” “You mean like the Holy Trinity Mystery”? Maybe the preacher from your Gouda church can help us solve this mystery!"

 "Merry Christmas 2017, Mr W! I hope this White Christmas Santa Claus will bring back some of those condoms that the Holy Spirit ransacked from your bathroom!"

 Last but not least…. I was now determined to check his phone…. I took advantage of a time when he was in the kitchen and seized the damned tool. What was in there? A missed call from… Minnie Mouse who was curiously calling on a Saturday night, and some text messages (with a plan to meet) that they had happily exchanged while he was in Rome with me, reconnecting from a break-up that had happened because of his constant contacts with her.

 The fight was strenuous:  I asked him to take pictures of his phone messages in order to translate them (I don’t speak Dutch) and he starkly refused. Therefore, like a boxer who has decided to get up on the ring and fight until her adversary is KO'd, I decided I wouldn’t give up until he showed me the contents of that damned phone. I had suddenly turned into Rambo; The Rambo song was playing in my head: La la la, la la la…. "Fight until you die, Rambo!" After hours of fighting he fell asleep and I was able to finally pierce into this religious pervert’s soul: contacts with five women apart from the Minnie Mouse, and messages to three of them the same day he had got back from our first vacation to France!

 And that was the end of the sanctimonious -or shall I say pharisaical- Member of the Board of the Gouda Church! 

 Last but not least: he told his family we had broken up because I was crazy… that deserves a blog, right?

http://www.westerkerkgouda.nl/info/kerkenraad/

Stephanie

Christiana

Candy

Candy

Meike(Minnie Mouse)

Messages exchanged with Meike (Minnie Mouse) while he was in Rome with me

Rocco Siffredi