A Festival Love Story

The rain stopped and I came up with a plan. I was going to write you a note with my name and number, slip it in the bag, and hand it to lost and found.

Had I seen one too many rom-coms in my life?
Had I been baptized in that water as a born-again romantic?

For whatever reason, I never gave that bag to lost and found. Instead, I kept shlepping it around the festival.

Sometimes Life is Crazy

By now it was dark, and I still had no idea where my friends were (nor did I really care, to be honest.) I just wanted to enjoy the last bit of the festival, so I shoulder danced my way to the front of the main stage.

And then the rain came again. I put on your sweater and then used my jacket as a makeshift umbrella. There I was, dancing alone in a sea of strangers, thinking about how I wanted to be with someone who made me feel the same way you made me feel in that water. Tears came after that. Not sad tears, more like tears whose sole purpose were to shed hardened layers of older (and colder) selves. I was so ready to be soft, intimate, gentle and close with someone again. I hadn’t realized, until that moment, how hardened I had become as result of dating in Berlin. I had forgotten how much of a softie I actually was, how necessary it was for me to have a partner that also nurtured the sensitive parts of me.

The rain stopped and I put my jacket down. In that moment, I felt a strange calmness, like things were exactly as they should be. I turned my head to the right and there you were…walking through the crowd. You didn’t see me at first but then I put my hand on your chest, “I have your bag.”

photo: Arvid Wünsch

You were astonished. Thankful. Apologetic. In disbelief that I had shlepped your bag around the whole festival. “Maybe Americans are nice”, you joked. You swore that you had been looking for me. I didn’t know what to say. All I could do was smile. We swayed to the music a bit more but I could tell that there was something on your mind. As it turns out, you had actually been on your way home when I ran into you. “How can I repay you?” you asked. I assured you that it wasn’t necessary. Still, you insisted on buying me another drink.

We exited the crowd and made our way to the now deserted bar. While waiting for our drinks, I heard you say, while smiling, “Sometimes life is crazy.”

Indeed it is.
While sitting by the exit, both of us tried to track down our friends. It was then that you kissed me and told me you wanted me to go home with you. I weighed the pros and cons quickly in my head.

Pros:
I was cold and wanted a warm shower.
I had no idea where my friends were.
I was tired.

Cons:
You were basically a stranger.
We arrived by different modes of transportation (me by tram, you by bike.)
I didn’t want to ruin the magical chain of events that led me to you.

“Ok let’s go.” I couldn’t explain why, but I wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye.

Moonlight Magic

You then drove me on the back of your bike all the way to your house. Even though you had to get up in just a few hours you remained in great spirits the whole way home. “Moin moin,” you yelled to people passing us as you cheerfully rang your bell. As we rode through the dark forest, the air still wet from the rains, I couldn’t help but smile, thinking about how crazy and wonderful life was sometimes.

As soon as we arrived, I asked you to take a shower. “Do you have something I could sleep in”, I asked. Before waiting for an answer, I grabbed a striped tank top (yeah, that one) from your closet. “This will work.”

While I don’t want to divulge all of the magic of the evening, I will say that what came next was as lovely as the day that had preceded it. As I turned the lights off, you stretched your arm around me and I curled up into you. We both fell swiftly asleep.

photo: Diana Wernicke

A few hours later, your alarm went off. Instead of getting up right away, you stayed wrapped up around me. You asked me how I slept. “Ok”, I answered honestly, “but I want to sleep more.” “Me too,” you laughed. The way you held me is the way I imagine a man holds a woman he is afraid to lose. Or perhaps this was they way you wished you’d held someone you’d loved and lost.

Before leaving, you leaned down to kiss me goodbye, and asked me to put my number in your phone. I tried to type it but I was too sleepy and kept messing it up. “I’ll write it down for you,” I assured you. “Ok, make sure to write it down,” you said. We kissed again and then you were gone.

I slept a few hours more and then had to wake up to catch my bus. Because my clothes were still wet (and it was brisk outside), I decided to wear your tank top and sweater home. After getting dressed, I wrote my number and left it on the table, along with a simple note that said “See you soon!”

The Aftermath

You told me you would be in Berlin in a few days for work. I assumed you’d ring me when you were in my city and we would meet up. I would return your sweater and tank and we would reflect on how crazy and random it was that we met, and then met again.

I never, for one moment, thought you wouldn’t text or call. I was certain, absolutely certain, that we had both felt a connection, a spark.

After telling my closest friends our story, they assured me that you would write, that I just needed to give it time. I couldn’t help but think something was wrong, however, when a few days had passed and there was still no word.

photo: Light And Vibes Photography

Maybe I wrote the number wrong.
Maybe he has a girlfriend.
Maybe his flatmate is secretly in love with him and ripped up my number before he got home.

After I pushed each silly excuse out of my head, the self-doubt set in.

How could I have been so wrong?
How could I have misjudged a connection so deep, so real?
How could I have not seen that this grinning fella was just a charming ladies man?

The Silver Lining

Thankfully, my negative thinking didn’t last more than a few days. Instead of dwelling on the fact that you didn’t call, I decided to look at the bright side of this situation. To me, you were a much needed reminder that romance is real, that a spark is important, and that the universe always sends you exactly what you need, when you need it. Up until that day, I had started to give up on this idea of romance. I had let Berlin start to harden me. I had been building walls up to keep from getting hurt, a feat that was actually just attracting other emotionally unavailable suitors.

Instead of living out the rest of my days scared of loving or being loved, I wanted to be more of a romantic. In order to do so, however, I’d first have to peel back some layers, exposing a softer, more sensitive version of myself.

And finally, let’s not forget about that shirt and sweater…

I thought you would text me the next day and then I could explain why I had to wear your clothes home. I figured I would just return them the next time we met. That day never came, however, and I am beginning to realize that it probably never will. Because I am not some psycho grifter who goes from city to city stealing the clothes of lovers before slinking away on the next FlixBus, I’d like to give these items away (preferably to someone in desperate need of having their faith in romance restored.) Any takers?

* * *

Text: Nicole Paulus, Photos: Courtesy of TH!NK? Festival

Nicole Paulus is a millennial expat from the States. When she’s not dancing at Kater, drinking beers at Tempelhof, or eating shawarma at Maroush, she’s busy running her own digital marketing company Nico New Media. You can read about her adventures on her blog.

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