on what it was like.

[written into the moleskine while sitting alone at bar tolluci, in eisenacher str., march 2nd 2005, just past 7pm]

i hate sitting in restaurants by myself. usually i do, at least. but today, i don't care. at all. i care about nothing today.
how often have i been at restaurants by myself anyway? a handful of times. the most memorable being my expensive dinner at doyle's in sydney, after deciding that jumping off the gap was not an option anymore. but whatever. this isn't what i am really thinking about right now.

how am i supposed to put this day into words?

j. is totally different from what i had expected him to be like. and he is just what i had expected him to be like. he is everything. we are the same. we laugh the same way. we smile equally much.
the strangest of it all, however, the scariest, maybe, is that we taste the same way. his kiss tastes like kissing did at 15; like smokes and wrigley's spearmint gum and comfort. he himself, however, tastes like me. just like me. sweet. subtle. delicious.
wow.

we didn't hesitate at all. kissing at the door, off with the clothes, naked and in bed for the following 5 hours.
it was simultaneously brandnew and wellknown and intimate and personal and all that is a true shocker because it's never been that way before, ever. there was not a moment of performance worries, not a moment of worries about physical attraction, not a moment of *thought* in that room the colour of a swimmingpool.
it was just perfect and familiar and wonderful.

we talked and listened to music and snuggled and started all over again and it was simply relaxed and wonderful and as if we'd been up to this for years.
it's as if he has always been there. always.
at some point i even uttered the words "i want to keep you". and that's what i do. seriously.
past 5pm, past listening to a multitude of versions of "karma police" and a shower and hectic getting dressed, we left the flat and caught a cab and it was bizarre, because there was some sun out there, and that snow, and people, and berlin, and cars and the world hadn't stopped, even though it had felt like it had.
it was a little much, that world, underslept and underfed and overstimulated and totally high on endorphines and totally out of it, out of everything. herbert grönemeyer was on the cabbies radio and "ich fühl mich leer und verbraucht/alles tut mir weh" got a totally new meaning, and we laughed. lots.
suitable song, that one. for ever connected to that cab ride.

and then we were already at the hotel and he walked home and good lord, was i totally not jealous. i wonder how he managed. he's not the type of person for this kind of thing, i keep thinking. not at all.

after all that intensity, being alone was surprisingly needed, which i just hadn't expected at all. gulped down some powerade and quickly snacked through my leftover train ride food to counter severely low blood sugar levels. i felt like fainting. shower. then rest. then facial restoration. then getting dressed. then walking the few metres here.
the pizza is okay, and cheap too, and we'll go to bright eyyes in a little while.
wonderful.

i hope the location is small and pretty and cozy. i want a bar and drinks and dark corners for making out.
i'm looking forward to hh, to staying in bed all day. yeah.
so. time to pay. time to walk to the hotel. time to wait for j.

wow.
was today life-changing?
fucking hell, yes.

yet i'm still calm, and unfazed, somehow, someway.
wow.