06:00 Uhr. So! Here I was, having spent the worst date of my life, waiting for the S-Bahn to arrive. A twilight movie marathon seems a better idea than the catastrophe I have put myself through. Oh my word! Ignore the golden advice to myself about not messaging in an inebriated state. Hallelujah!! I put to rest the slowly rotting relationship with a swift headshot with a shotgun. The brains splatter all over me and I actually feel better amongst this mess because I can take of the snake skin that has engulfed my true self. I climb on the train a few kilos lighter, perhaps the fact I am on a clean diet has more to do with it.
15:00 Uhr. I wake up with a smile on my beard covered face, the dimples (again well concealed) give a high five to the stache. I am well and truly in the Indian summer of my twenties and probably there is no better time to crank up the volume to Metallica’s Carpe Diem. The need to live life by the book was never comfortable to me. The social convention of how one must go about is the biggest load of crap someone delivered post downing gravy at a shitty Asian diner. Absolute gold dust. It is amusing how our funny little minds work so well in such situations.
19:00 Uhr. One of the best things about Germany is that people keep finding reasons to gulp more beers. Oktoberfest, Frühlingfest, Sommerfest, Drink-your-damn-beer-fest …the list is endless. Not that I am complaining, on the contrary, I am sold to the idea of drinking in a large group and engaging in gibber gabber. We have a new haunt for the summer days, a nice little spot by the road in the city center. Palast Der Republik. A girl walks up to us, asks if she can hang out around with us, next thing we know we have a small battalion ready to attack the beer in every bar in the city.
06.08.16 00:00Uhr. Things are getting hazier! Somehow, I find myself chugging along a group of people heading to Proton (it’s a night club). A few minutes and dance moves later, I realize I don’t belong here. Not that I can’t dance, we have already established I am a passable dancer. The music is just killing my vibe. I walk out with a friend to head over to the customary last stop of every booze riddled night out. Say what? Oblomow? Does a three legged dog swim in a circle! (For the Germans reading this, think of the phrase –Auf jeden Fall)
However, here is the funny part. Me to a bartender: what would you like to drink? (Yes, she was equally confused with the switch in roles.). Now, this one has the hots for me and takes it like I am finally flirting with her. I get a free drink and a shot of embarrassment of a drink fondly labelled as tequila by the Mexicans. Then it struck me! I wasn’t in Oblomow, this was the Tequila Bar. I must be losing it! I trudge my sorry ass across the bar to Oblomow.
Oblomow! I enter buy a drink and go sit on a table with 2 girls happily chatting with each other. The usual smoothness is lost here because one of them seems to radiate a breath of fresh air in the stale bar. I start with my short lived acting career (Yes, I got my game back and I hear the voice of panties dropping in the room. Sarcasm or is it?). One thing leads to another, I find that they are sisters. (Barney Stinson must be proud. Proud five!) The younger one motions me closer and says –Dude, I am chubby and I don’t do skinny men. You are wasting your time here… My mind acknowledges that thought with a subtle mental response “Challenge Accepted!”
04:00 Uhr. I have her bedazzled, or she is probably too drunk. Either way I find it surprisingly easy to converse with her. I like this, such a good upgrade than the drab conversations one has to have with most German girls. My flower guy swings by my side handing me a rose for her (Yes I have a flower guy. Savvy??). Surprisingly, she is blushing redder than a face that receives a Ronda Rousey treatment. She hands me her number and whispers – ‘I don’t want to waste this encounter by indulging in meaningless sex. Take me out, wine and dine me.’ These were not the words, but this is how I interpreted it in that particular moment. Colorado we have a problem. Disappointing! For the most part about no sex, but also about the teensy part where an exchange of number obviously means my entire night of work counts as null. The shit is truly upside down and has hit the fan. Run Forest Run.
07:00 Uhr. We are kicked out of Oblomow, it is one of those satisfying moments a man lives for. It’s better than seeing Jesus do his thing on the water. I am in the middle of her picture having garnered her entire attention. Standing outside, I give her the piece of the paper with her number and say – Give it to me when we are home and proceed to kiss her. Self-pat on the back. I am bloody charming! Jay is back and no he is not wearing black!
P.s: I could only take her name on that stinking piece of paper home but the bit of dramatic ending fits the story better. If it’s any consolation, she liked the kiss. Peace out niggers!