I went to Berghain, met The One and had to deal with the aftermath
So I was having a conversation with one of my friends yesterday and this is what she told me:
Okay I just started seeing someone who I met in Berghain of all places. It was the first time I’d ever been there. The adrenaline of getting in is unparalleled to anything I’ve experienced before. Once you’re in you’ve entered another dimension. A dimension with the best sound-system in the world and it’s always the weekend.
Me and the group of 6 people I came with were on a journey and we were a dream team. After a few hours of dancing and running around I sat down on a giant swing to rest my legs and started chatting to the person sitting next to me. As we talked he came into focus and I realized I was speaking to someone special. He was handsome but it was more than that. He had a kind face. Our conversation was easy and honest and connected. He used to be a gymnast, he was from south Germany. He had long hair he tied in a bun and his clothes were well designed and understated.
After talking for a while we realized we’d lost our friends and were glad about it. We held hands all night and talked and talked. I told him about my dad and he told me about his dad. After about 7 hours of hanging out I went back to his place and we just fell asleep. The next day we got coffee and walked around on the last day of sunshine. I felt lucky to have met someone, out of nowhere, who I knew would be an important part of my life.
The next day I called my mum. I told her that I’d met somebody that I really liked, more than liked, and I felt really good about it.
Two days later him and I met for a burger. It was a test to see if the connection we had in Berghain was real and not just techno, Club Mate and adrenaline.
Right away it was exactly the same. We talked and talked. There was so much to say, he was still hot although his clothes weren’t quite as good as they were at Berghain. He produced hard techno. He wanted to help me learn German. We went to a bar and he told me all about his ex and how he hadn’t been ready to meet someone new until now.
The next day at work I told my colleague about him, how it was the real thing, that something big was happening. I told my friends back home, my aunt, Christ I probably would’ve told a passing pigeon if they looked interested.
I met him three weeks ago today. I think realistically the doubt started to kick in on our third date, after the burger, when he came round to mine for dinner and we talked about how much he loves smoking weed. He smokes weed every day, quite a lot of it. He said that he loves watching TV. His favourite thing to do at the weekend is to sit at home, watch TV, smoke weed and do nothing.
I realized as we spoke that his energy levels were very, very low. The person that I met in Berghain was the very best version of him. As I got to know him it became more and more surprising that he even had the energy to make it to Berghain that day. He has almost no motivation to do anything, every morning he finds it near impossible to wake up. He hadn’t really left Germany before except for family holidays.
So last night, Saturday night, I cycled over to his for dinner. I had a bad feeling when I arrived. He opened the door wearing a hideous scarf tied in a loop knot round his neck and a scratchy, ugly jumper. He’s been growing his beard so what was the ideal length 3 weeks ago has turned into a scruffy, patchy, wisp with what looks like whiskers on either side of his mouth which makes his face look absurd.
His jeans are increasingly terrible and his bed is never made properly and he only has one single duvet.
So I asked what he’d made for dinner and he said that he’d made tuna sandwiches. I was like what? And he explained to me that he’d like pre-prepared this tuna concoction filled with onion, garlic, olives and avocado. He said that he’d put the tuna filling in the fridge to chill and that we would have it with bread.
I’m just sitting there thinking like why the fuck would I want to eat an oniony, garlicy, tuna sandwich on a Saturday night when I’ve come round for dinner? After he put the tuna shit in the fridge he got a nose bleed immediately and then he spilt wine all over his computer. He rolled a joint and smoked it, offered me some, I said no. He has this way of nodding his head when he’s talking which makes him seem a bit like a simpleton.
So we ate the tuna sandwiches and my mouth tasted like a cats arsehole afterwards. He kissed me and it was disgusting, obviously, because he’d made the most stinking, acrid concoction possible even though we’re still in the dating phase. Actually, I wouldn’t have eaten that shit with a long term boyfriend at the end of a relationship, let alone with someone I’d just started dating.
Anyway, our mouths tasted like shit, we watched this film which was okay. For some reason he cried at the end of it, it wasn’t particularly sad. He smoked joint after joint.
We went to bed, I tried to get the stench out my mouth by brushing my teeth but the garlic and onion pierced through the toothpaste and mouth wash. He shaves all his body hair from the neck down which is quite weird. We fell asleep. He farted all night.
So now I’m pretty sure it’s not a vibe. I’m telling you this now, can’t believe that in 2.5 weeks I’ve gone from thinking this person was the future father of my children to realizing that he’s a waste man I picked up in Berghain. It’s left me with a real bad taste in my mouth.
I caught up with my friend on the topic closer to publishing and she’s added:
Upon reflection I think what happened here is definitely not his fault and perhaps my impossibly high expectations of what he was like when I first met him in Berghain were unrealistic. I haven’t seen him since then but I’m sure he’s having a nice time smoking weed and watching TV and perhaps I should be slightly more forgiving next time someone makes me a tuna sandwich. I mean he probably just fancied a tuna sandwich that night and thought I would too. Publish it anyway, it’s a good story.
Originally published on No Filter Zine