Nymphomaniac: Vol. I Page #3

You travel first-class,

and you bought us our tickets.

Why then not buy a decent gift

for your wife?

I can see it comes

from the station.

Of course I should have...

bought her something...

something better, but...

Let's just say I was suddenly

in a hurry to get home.

Why would a man like you

with such an orderly life

suddenly have to hurry?

It has to do with family.

My wife and I have decided

that we...

we miss having children, after all.

And that if we are to have children,

it has to be now.

So my wife called yesterday

to say that she...

She started ovulating.

And all signs point to maximum

fertility precisely tonight.

You see?

That's why I bought her

a gift at the station.

I had to get a ticket home

as quickly as possible.

- Well, I understand now.

- What is it you understand?

Why you didn't have sex with us.

It wasn't because I didn't want to.

So you've been saving your sperm.

For weeks. I mean,

you and your wife are...

seem to be at an age

where every attempt

to become pregnant has to be

taken very seriously.

Right now, my...

My sperm quality

is at its peak, I'm told.

Please...

I'm begging you, please don't.

It's okay.

Please don't.

You've been as horny as hell.

But you wouldn't

give up your load.

Please don't.

Oh, f***.

Wow.

In your case, it wasn't

the taste of a Madeleine cake,

moistened with lime blossom tea,

but the combination

of chocolate and sperm.

What?

That was a piece of

culturally blasphemic digression.

It's a story about memory.

How the combination

of two flavors

set off a chain of memories.

So oral sex became,

in the eye of the angler,

your... your Finnish weapon.

Is that your only comment?

What else... What else

do you want me to say?

That I behaved reprehensibly.

That already my actions exemplify

that I'm a...

I'm a terrible human being.

That's not the way I see it.

On the contrary, I saw it as a...

A very pleasurable

and humorous story.

Not at all sad, or...

or weighed down by sin.

Like all that talk

about Pandora's Box.

I've consciously used

and hurt others...

for the sake of

my own satisfaction.

And what I've told you so far

only begins to suggest that.

But when you told the story,

you were cheerful.

Full of humor.

It wasn't as if you embarked

on some tragic tale.

Well, that's the way I am.

I've always loved

the chills at the start of a fever,

knowing only too well that

sickness will soon follow.

The only thing you've done,

except giving a few people

an experience to remember,

is that you...

You relieved S from his load

in some... some youthful hubris.

I read somewhere that if you

keep the load too long

the sperm will die.

Or worse, degenerate.

Maybe thanks to you,

Mr. S and his wife

now have a healthy

and well-functioning child.

I discovered my power as a woman

and used it without

any concern for others.

That's completely unacceptable.

Oh, little darling...

Don't you "little darling" me.

No.

What I wanted to say was that

if you have wings, why not fly?

Allow me to digress.

I read a book about

Sikorski and helicopters

where the author

stressed the fact that

in order to take off, you tilt

the helicopter forward.

It looks like you're trying

to force the helicopter

down into the ground,

but the effect is the contrary.

That the velocity

takes the helicopter

and sweeps it up in the air.

The pilots say the helicopter

wants to fly.

It's like when you're

in a glider plane,

and suddenly you're lifted,

because of the spontaneous

emission of thermals.

Thermals is when the sun

is warming up the field,

and it emits a thermal bubble

of warm air that rises.

These aircraft, they want to fly.

It's just a little

unpredictable when.

You flew on that... on that train.

And that surprised you.

No more stories.

You need to sleep.

No, no.

This is beginning to amuse me.

I don't even know your name.

My name is Joe.

I'm Seligman.

What a f***ing ridiculous name.

It's Jewish.

You said you weren't religious.

No, but my great-grandfather was.

And my parents gave me

the name as a sort of...

sentimental association to Judaism.

Why let the sentimental part

of religion, as you said,

outlive religion itself?

You have a point.

But we've always been anti-Zionists,

which is not the same

as being anti-Semitic,

as certain political powers

try to convince us.

Seligman...

means "the happy one."

So, are you happy then?

Well, I suppose I am.

In my own way.

Even if I'm the kind of person

who cut the nails

of the right hand first.

What does that mean?

Well, I divide humanity

into two groups:

the people who cut the nails

on the left hand first,

and the people who cut the nails

of the right hand first.

My theory is that the people

who cut the nails

of the left hand first,

they're more light-hearted.

They have a tendency

to enjoy life more,

because they go straight

for the easiest task, and...

save the difficulties for later.

- So what do you do?

- Always the left hand first.

I don't think there's a choice.

Go for the pleasure first, always.

And then when you've

done the left hand,

only the right hand remains.

That's the easiest one left.

I never thought of it like that.

Well, you're never too old.

Never too old to learn.

That's rugelach.

Mm-hmm.

Yeah, it's a Jewish cake.

- There's that sentimentality again.

- Oh, but it's more than rugelach.

It's rugelach served

with a cake fork.

A rugelach, in my opinion, is pastry,

which there is no excuse

for eating with a cake fork.

To serve it with a cake fork

is irritatingly unmanly,

not to say downright feminine.

However, it can bring us

further with the story.

I also knew someone who

consumed rugelach every day,

almost ritually,

with a cake fork.

And although we'll be

jumping a bit in time,

I have to tell you about Jerome.

As far as I can see,

the next chapter

doesn't contain

as direct an accusation

against my person

as the rest of the story.

But as you've read

a great deal, apparently,

you know that in a story

things have to be good

before they can be bad.

The chapter will also make

a sentimental soul like you happy

as it contains observations

on the subject of love.

Can I tell you something?

Sure.

- Yeah.

- Yeah, sure.

It might not be important to you...

But it is to me.

I've never had an orgasm before.

Really?

You're my first one.

You don't know how happy

that makes me.

I love you.

You're my first.

Well, I have to admit,

quite a lot of girls say that.

The train trip

had increased my appetite,

and soon B and I started a club

that we called

"The Little Flock."

Mea vulva, mea maxima vulva.

B, of course, took the lead

as she was the most

daring of us.

She was raised Catholic.

I'm sure you're familiar

with the practices

of the Catholic Church.

...mea maxima vulva.

Mea vulva, mea...

That's interesting.

Blasphemic, satanic.

The music. The interval

between "B" and "F."

It's a tritone.

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