So,
it may seem like I don’t blog anymore since this is my first post in AGES! I do
post, just more on my business blog at blog.funomenal.com. Starting a business
is a lot of work and can be time consuming. As a result my personal blog posts
greatly suffered. But I made a point to drop a couple of personal posts before
2015.
With
that, I've been in a new apartment back in my favorite district of Berlin,
Kreuzberg, for a few months now. My new roommate is cool as hell! He’s a
writer. Often he’s in his room writing what I assume to be the next great German
novel. Or a screen play about a roommate who kills and cooks his black American
roommate. No idea but I hope it’s the first. He loves classic 90’s Hip hop and black
women ALMOST as much as I do! I appreciate him. Seriously. I remember quite
vividly what I went through to find this apartment before I lucked into this
place. Let me tell you about a few of the people I met while looking for a new
apartment…
When
people are offering a room in their place I totally understand setting rules. A
non-smoker saying you can’t smoke inside, or someone banning pets. I get it.
Life is about compromise and you move in with a person you have to concede some
things. What I don’t understand is a person trying to dictate how I can live my
life if I live with them. I looked at one place owned by an older French woman
who was an artist. This woman was a FRENCH ARTIST. She had the super strong
accent and the airy whimsical way of describing a situation. Her apartment was
well… it was minimalist at best. I thought she’d just moved in and was still
figuring out the furniture arrangement. She’d lived in the place for 15 years! The
only real furniture was a small kitchen table with two chairs and a desk in her
bedroom. That was it! No sofa, no other chairs, tables, nothing, just that! In
both bedrooms were a single thin mattress on the floor. Let me repeat that, a
SINGLE THIN mattress directly on the floor. Not two mattresses, not one on top
of a raised platform, just a lonely twin size mattress on the cold hard floor.
When I asked her about the lack of furniture she said that’s how she wanted it.
Too many man made things in her apartment “disturbed” her creative energy was
her response. Ok, ok. Creative energy flow disturbance is the issue. But that
disturbance can also go through walls from the other bedroom that a person is
paying for and interfere with your art all the way on the other side of a rather
large apartment? And does a second mattress also sends out bad vibes too? Does
the brand of mattress help at all? And do synthetic material also affect your
brain waves? Only cotton and wool clothing allowed? I can compromise to the Nth
degree, however, I cannot pay someone to live like I’m in a Thai prison. Needless to say that apartment was never
really an option.
The
second room I saw already was sketchy to me from the start. It was cheap, like super-duper
cheap. I’m from the school that if something is very cheap then something must
be wrong with it. But I decided to check it out anyway. Went to the apartment
and sure enough.. very cheap often times is equal to super ghetto. The door to
the building was locked, but there was a huge hole in the glass to the front
door so someone could just stick their hand through and unlock it. I have to
say though, the building itself wasn’t really the problem. It was the guy who
lived in the apartment that was the problem. He was like a human Eeyore from
Winnie-the-Pooh. He was so freakin depressing! He was about 50 years old and
sounded like his entire life had been one big “Fuck you buddy!” from the
universe. He was a private music teacher because he couldn’t get a band to
accept him as a member, he wasn’t making enough teaching music so that’s why he
needed a roommate and even then he might not be able to afford the rent. If he
couldn’t get more private students he’d have to move back to his small village
and live with his mother who had dementia. The last roommate had left without
paying the rent for the last two months. He was OK with that because he must
have done something to offend her. Why else would she not pay the rent? So he
believed. He promised to stay out of the way if I brought a woman around so he
wouldn’t scare them with his looks. Me being me I tried to be polite and offer
words of encouragement. Get him to see things differently you know? But maaan,
after like 10 minutes I had to get the HELL out of there! I almost ran into the
kitchen and grabbed a spoon to try and slash my wrists! A lot of people have
self-esteem issues and are insecure. It’s just, when you are talking someone
into taking a room by saying they can pay less because you are such a horrible
person when you’ve already said you can barely afford to pay your share as is..
It’s not really a convincing sales pitch. Poor guy. I searched the news for a
week after that visit expecting to read about a single man around 50 who hung
himself with guitar string in his small shabby apartment.
The
last apartment I saw can best be described as all that glitters isn’t gold. Set
up an appointment to see this place and I walk in and the place is DA BOMB!! It’s
a very nice, totally renovated apartment. Everything is top of the line, custom
fitted, just unbelievable. What would’ve been my room is HUGE! Had a massive
plasma flat screen, separate seating area in the room with a sofa and table,
nice little balcony. Kitchen had a gas range like you’d find on a cooking show
with a fridge that would be at home in an American kitchen. I had stars in my
eyes! I just knew I was moving in! Even did the “I found my apartment dance.” So,
the owner of the apartment, a younger German male in his late 20’s, says he
wants to get to know me better. Fair enough, that’s normal in Germany. They
view the person who might live with them as more a potential friend than just
someone who pays to live with them. My Spidey senses did start to tingle when
he offered me a white wine in a glass the size of a baby’s head, but that
shower! It’s the type with the massive shower head so it feels like you’re in a
rain forest when you’re showering! So we’re in the living room talking and
chitchatting watching TV. He asks me what I do blah blah blah. Then I ask him
what he does. He’s a flight attendant. My Spidey senses are buzzing at this
point. Now, I’m sure there are men who are straight who are hair dressers and
flight attendants. I’m positive they exist. I personally have not run across
any yet in my life. And that alone is not enough to worry me. Even if he is
gay, it doesn’t mean he finds me attractive and wants to get in my pants. I
pushed aside my homophobic thoughts and relaxed. This guy excuses himself and
goes to the kitchen again and comes back with shots of Jägermeister. Shots of Jägermeister??
At an apartment viewing?? Mhmm.. I say I need to use the bathroom, but take the
shot before I go into the bathroom, didn’t swallow it and then spit it out in
the bathroom sink. Something told me being drunk around this dude might not be
a good idea. I still was trying to give this guy the benefit of the doubt. This
apartment was too nice to give up on! I composed myself in the bathroom,
splashed some water on my face and came back in the living room and sit back
down on the sofa. On the flat screen TV
looks like a penis. My brain and my eyes started having this conversation
between themselves.
Eyes:
“Jesus, Mary and Joseph! That’s a dick!”
Brain:
“No, no. Couldn’t be. Contacts must be cloudy, look again.”
Eyes:
“Muthafucca I know what a dick look like! It’s dick goddammit!”
Brain:
“Are you 100% sure? Cause if that’s a dick then we are in trouble and we need
to make damn sure that’s a dick before we react.”
Eyes:
“Hmm.. Ok. Let’s see. No, actually, I was wrong it’s not a dick. It’s TWO
dicks! IT’S GAY PORN, IT’S GAY PORN!!”
At
that point my brain went into self-preservation mode and did all it could to
protect my innocence, my eyes shut involuntarily as tight as possible and my
hands went to my ears to block out all noises. I started humming gospel songs
to prevent random sounds from the television making their way through my hands
and I slowly rocked back and forth trying to find my happy place. Situations
like that show a person’s true character. Maybe another man would’ve punched
him in the face. Hard. Repeatedly. I honestly didn't want to hurt the guy’s
feelings! Dammit I am so not a thug! If I remember correctly I believe I told
him the wine didn’t agree with me and I needed to go because I was gonna be
sick. What I DO remember is him saying I might feel better if I got undressed
and laid down in his bed.. (-_-) That was the end of that apartment. There was
even heated flooring in the bathroom! *sigh. After I’m out of the apartment
this guy texts me, “Oh why did you leave? You could’ve slept over.” Etc etc.
Again, I tried to be uber polite and explained I had a girlfriend AND I wasn't gay. At all. Like, not at all at all. He said OK and that he understood and the
room was mine if I wanted it. He then proceeded to send me Whatsapp photos of
his ass… Since then my phone hasn't worked the same since. His ass broke my
phone!
Maybe
it’s not a good idea if my current roommate reads this post. He might raise the
rent on me knowing what I went through to find where I am now!
Epilogue
About
a month ago I’m in my favorite café in my neighborhood. I’m relaxing, doing
some work on my laptop. Two guys come in and sit across the room at a table. I
pay no attention at all and only look up because they walk past. I only take
notice when my ears pick up, “Flight attendant for a major German airline.”
Then I paid attention. Yep. It was him. Mr. Gay-porn-showing-break-a-phone-wit-his-ass
in the flesh! I started having flashbacks and almost hyperventilated on the
spot! I had a hat on and pulled it as far down as it would go. Because of
course that is disguise enough for a muscular black man in a café full of white
Germans. Idiot. I didn't know what else to do! I packed up my bag as slowly
and quietly as I could. I literally took the form of Voldemort in the first
Harry Potter movie and slid out my chair. I dropped my jacket but because I was
afraid bending down to pick it up would ruin my perfect disguise I didn’t try
to pick it up. I had hid my face but not my ass! I kicked my jacket all the way
through the coffee shop until I got outside. I picked that bitch up and ran
home like the police were chasing me. At one point I thought I heard somebody
yell out my name and a “Momma!” escaped my lips. I couldn't help it! I admit
it! I was scared! Besides, everybody
know yellin’ “Momma!” creates a force field of protection around you. Say what
you want to, but I made it home safely.
Epilogue Deluxe
This guy now follows me on Facebook. Great. Just f*cking great.
