How boring was that Thursday night at the bar where I work. There were few people, mostly new faces; all of them seemed to be very busy with whomever they were there to meet. Many couples on their first dates, nobody sitting alone at the bar in search of an adventure, which actually happens from time to time. A blonde girl sitting on a sofa in a corner with a guy seemed to be as bored as me. She looked at me a couple of times, I returned all her gazes. But then somehow, she got more involved in her date and forgot about our flirtation. When they paid and left, she just said a kind goodbye and disappeared rapidly behind him. Well, have a nice evening, then. After that, the most sparkling thing for me was the tonic I mixed with gin in my glass, waiting for the last customer to leave, or for a message from Alexandra which would have never come. Thinking “go to hell Alexandra” wasn’t helpful, she must have her own suite down there.
While cleaning the counter and closing the place I couldn’t help but feel a sense of dissatisfaction. For how long I hadn’t felt a strong connection with somebody? I wasn’t chasing everlasting love, but goddamn where had disappeared all those kind of flirtations in which one can’t believe how tunefully sounds everything from the very first talks, and has to behave himself to not find his arms wrapped around the other’s back from one moment to the next? Where were those matches in which souls seem to start to fuck even before bodies do it, filling air with electricity and preparing a thunderstorm of passion?
Well, to be honest, the idea of “soul” has never been such a big deal for me, and I’ve never felt ashamed saying that most of our happiness comes from bodies – ours and others’ ones. Maybe in that period I wasn’t just open enough to new things, maybe I could have had loads of encounters like those I described, but I was stuck in my habits and my views, and I wasn’t even able to understand what was worth it a chance?
But this couldn’t be completely true, and for example I gave a go to these dates in very fancy restaurants with Alexandra, always waiting for her to post pictures of each dish on Instagram before eating. I tried to approach her career as influencer with a lot of interest, although it was probably the farthest thing from what usually catches my attention. I can waste a lot of time – and not even perceive it as “wasted” – scrolling through photographers’ and models’ profiles if they have a taste for unusual things, and the weirder they are the better it is; but those pics she posts paint just an ordinary woman in an ordinary world, with no kind of space for originality, and this makes me bored as fuck. Then of course, it’s her job and I do want to respect it; but the fact that those creams and shampoos she advertises in her pictures are her whole and only horizon made me feel clearly that we didn’t have so much in common.
And not that sex with her was that bad, otherwise we probably wouldn’t have dated for those two months; but it started soon to be repetitive and she seemed not to be up to anything new nor to talk about any kind of fantasies, which is essential for me. Last time we slept together I was somehow not that much in the mood for sex, which is in general weird for me but not in that particular case, considering how much the superficiality of our conversations before dried me completely inside. I innocently proposed her to play with a dildo on her body, thinking it could have been fun for her and arousing for me at the same time; she got surprisingly very disappointed, asking me what was the meaning of using a plastic penis for a man who’s supposed to have a real one. In my mind it was such a normal thing to do in couple, that I probably didn’t manage to let her understand my point of view: so deep was the gap between our minds! I actually should call me lucky for the fact that she didn’t text back. And by the way, yes Alexandra, I still think that using a sex toy to give you the pleasure you desire can be rather a proof of my virility than its negation. I hope you’ll try it one day and everything will make sense for you too.
But to get back to that summer night, could I ever imagine the upcoming events after such a colourless evening? I jumped on my bike and started to cycle my way home through the warm calmness of the night. Nobody was around, the streets were sleeping in complete silence. After all that heat behind the bar, the air on my face and on my body was such an amazing feeling: I sped up more and more to enjoy it as much as I could. I passed by Checkpoint Charlie and I went straight down Friedrichstrasse; all of a sudden, while I was crossing a secondary street, a car coming from behind me turned right very fast. I realized it when it was too late: I tried to brake and turned right as well, to escape the car, but eventually it hit me on my right leg, and I fell down. What happened then is still a blur in my mind, I remember it rather as a dream than reality. The driver sped up and left rapidly, I could hear the engine roaring, and the wheels squeaking on the asphalt. The noise was immediately followed by a female voice;