Sleeping with Berlin, Dreaming of Munich

“Christina, have you met my friend Berlin?” 

I shook my head. “I’ve heard good things about him, but no, not yet.”

“Oh, you must meet. He’s brilliant, one of the most creative people I know.”

“Yeah? Sounds good. Tell me more. What does he look like?”

“Well, he’s a bit of a hipster, but whatever you do, don’t tell him I said so. He’s got this naughty, sexy vibe going on. He has an eternal five o'clock shadow and masses of dark hair always hanging in his eyes. It gives him this mysterious, broody, sort of dangerous look girls go crazy for. I know how you like that. God knows why. I prefer them more clean-cut like your last bloke. It’s a shame that didn’t work out.”

I sighed, “Munich? Yeah, he was dreamy, wasn’t he? Blond, well-dressed, charming, rich, romantic. It was love at first sight. For one of us, at least. I’m still kind of mourning him.”

“Yeah, well, Christina. You did the right thing. He was a bit pretentious. And what was up with not allowing you to go shopping on Sundays? You’ve had your fill of controlling men. You’re too much of a catch to waste time chasing anyone. Besides, we both know a big part of your infatuation was because of those massive steins of beer he bought you and your obsession with sausage.”

I sighed again, remembering sun-kissed, hazy days in the beer garden under massive chestnut trees, staring blearily into his frank, blue eyes. “I know you’re right. But dammit, I’d give him a second chance in a heartbeat.”

“Why didn’t things work out with him anyway?”

“Well, it was a combination of things. I’m too much of a free spirit for Munich, for one thing. He wanted me to work a steady job. He can be pretty conservative in his views. Plus, I’m flighty. You know about my commitment issues. I bailed when it seemed like it might get too serious and Munich isn’t one to chase.”

“Maybe you’ll be ready for each other if things don’t work out with my friend.  Berlin isn’t as big on beer gardens, but he loves live music like you do. He’s got a lot of ink, a few fab pieces, and yeah, plenty of shit tattoos as well. I’ve heard he’s got a massive schlong, but he’s kinda dirty. Make sure you wrap that up.”

“Oh my god, David!” Though I’d known David for years, his easy candor about sex still caught me off guard. 

“He’s got a dark past. He used to have some pretty tall walls built up, but he’s had a lot of therapy and tore most of those down.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. “Sounds like he’s got a lot of baggage.”

“I’m not saying he’d be the love of your life. He’s a lot of fun. I think you’d enjoy him. Maybe you just need a wild romp to get over your last boy. You’ll forget all about what’s his name in no time. Don’t you think it was ridiculous that he wore those silly lederhosen all the time?”

“I liked his lederhosen!”

“Forget about him, Christina. I know your taste in men. You’ll like my friend. Trust me.” 

“Alright, fine, sign me up.”

“I’ll tell him to message you.”

A few months went by, and I called David, “We need to talk. Are you free?”

“Yeah, what’s up? Everything ok?”

“How well do you know Berlin?”

“I’ve known him from a distance for years. Why?”

“Did you know he still has a drug habit?”

“No! He told me he’d cleaned up!”

“Funny you should mention him cleaning up. I have never dated anyone as disgusting as this man. Thank god I got my tetanus booster a couple of years ago. This man and his friends have zero pride in their homes. Each apartment has a rats den of rooms where you have to climb over at least one mattress just to get to the toilet, and if that wasn’t bad enough, there is broken glass everywhere. Who can live like this? Why did you think I would like him?”

“God, I’m sorry. How did you find out about the drugs? Did you just put two and two together?”

“I started to suspect something from his changing moods. One day he’d tell me how beautiful and amazing I am and then the next five days he wouldn’t even make eye contact with me. Then I found a bent spoon and syringes in the courtyard outside his flat.”

“Are you sure they’re his?”

“His or his friends’. I don’t even care anymore. When he wasn’t sleeping off a bender, he was spoiling the mood by telling me about how progressive and free-thinking he was. Another thing, I like tattoos, but I’m a big fan of quality over quantity. Berlin has two nice tattoos, and the rest,” I shook my head in disbelief, “the rest, well, shit, even prison tattoos have more inspiration. They’re just tags, random letters. Did he invite anyone with a needle and ink to defile his body? I mean, I’m glad he got the swastika tats covered up, but couldn’t he have chosen something a little more inspired?” 

“Yeah, I always thought that was a bit much. I don’t know; I guess I thought you’d hit it off. Didn’t you have any fun?”

“Well, yeah. We did have fun, especially at first. It was a wild ride. It was really sweet that he never made fun of me for pursuing writing instead of a “real job.” He was always supportive of me following my dreams. I think he believed in me more than I did, to be honest. We did have some good conversations; deeper conversations than I’ve had since I was in high school, but that gets exhausting.”

“Well, I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Christina. What next?”

“I’m going back to Munich. I wasn’t around long enough last time for him to take me seriously. I have to know if there’s hope for a second chance.”