20 years ago today – Day 135

Tuesday, July 16th – 2nd day in Berlin

I am lying on a strange futon beside a stranger. It is sweet and comfortable. I am trying to remember his name as I cuddle up to him. My mind is still blurry from last night's excesses but I am happy. The morning lights the room with a romantic haze, like a camera lens with a smear of Vaseline over it. But it occurs to me I left my contact lenses in last night, and the haze has nothing to do with romance or the light in the room.

I try to recall last night in Tom's Bar, and later making love with my host in this bed. Oh yes, it was fun. I snuggle up closer to him and discover that I have been lying on a bottle of poppers which has left its impression on my left side. His name comes to me - Thomas Freter. He's in his mid-to-late 20s, about ten years younger than me. He's a bit on the chubby side, but still quite handsome.

He sells real estate and - I suddenly remember - has a 12:30 appointment with a lawyer. It's only 10am but he may have other plans, so I kiss his neck and whisper in his ear the time. He says nothing at first - he just rolls over and embraces me while we kiss. He smiles, says good morning, returns to kissing me and soon we're going at it again, and fumbling around looking for the poppers bottle.

As soon as we finish, he hurries into the shower. I move to get up and step on a 10" dildo lying on the floor. I regard it with amusement. I don't use toys at home and we didn't use it last night, but I wonder if it would fit.... I give up after five minutes of trying when I hear the shower shut off.

Thomas drives me downtown early so we can have breakfast at a café together. He gives me his number and asks me to call him, although he says he will be too busy in the next few days to see me again. I like to see affectionate lovers more than once, but I am used to the callous "you've had your turn" attitude in Toronto. Thomas may have a one time only policy of his own, but if so he's nice about it. I would not likely get a phone number (one that works) or breakfast with the selfish sex pigs back home.

I feel refreshed and happy with finally being in Berlin, but I am not in a tourist mood. I make a list of chores to do and set about doing them. I do my grocery shopping, get a haircut and take out a 500 DM advance on my Visa card. I also pick up train schedules for Rostock. I have decided I will take a train there on Saturday, and a boat from there to Copenhagen. Then I send a FAX to Toronto, requested by my business partner David, to a house insurance broker about changing policies.

I read David's letter that I picked yesterday again. He seems to be trying hard to play by the rules for a change, and filling me in on all the details instead of playing the spoiled control freak that he usually is. That means that at least for now we are working cooperatively, which is such a relief after the crisis in Bourg-Argental (see Day 70). Perhaps I will sell the house we co-own when I return, but for now I will focus on my travels.

Even though I have seen very little of Berlin so far, it seems I always have one foot out the door. I pick up maps for Czechoslovakia and Hungary but cannot find one for Denmark yet. I fail to reach the Servas contact for Berlin too. Back at the hotel, I dye the sides of my new haircut a darker brown, leaving the top blond/grey. I have not played with hair dye before but I am into change, into trying new things. The new me looks much the same in the mirror. The new colour does nothing to disguise my scrawny 62 kg frame.

After dinner, I drop into the Mann-o-Meter for a coffee and meet Lutz Schneider, a friendly East Berliner a few years younger than me. He's small and fit, well-defined, with dirty blond hair, a short trimmed beard and penetrating eyes. He likes me, but how much I'm not sure. I agree to meet him in Tom's Bar down the street at 11:30.

After an evening spent washing clothes and writing, I set off at 10 to find the tourist attractions in Berlin I am most interested in - the men. I drop into some local bars I have not yet seen. None of them look too interesting. I return to Tom's Bar to meet Lutz at the appointed time and spend the next hour with him. At one point he casually rests his forearm against mine as if it belongs there. I don't pull away. In that simple gesture and response a contract is signed, punctuated with the exclamation marks of our respective erections. We finish our drinks and leave, riding a strange streetcar back to his apartment in East Berlin.


PHOTO 1: St. Stephen's Church and memorial
PHOTO 2: jugglers in front of St Stephen's
PHOTO 3: St Michael's Church