it, but having to sit across from her every week doesn’t help. And, crush or not, it doesn’t inspire me to give German my best shot. It must be my rebellious streak. I’ve never been one to please.
Giselle teaches from a spacious basement studio in Prenzlauer Berg, a ten-minute walk along broad boulevards from my flat. I breathe in the autumnal Berlin air and I couldn’t be happier. I couldn’t believe my luck when my company sent me here. I’d never made it a secret that relocating to Berlin was my ultimate goal. I just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. I work for an international architecture and design firm and they could have sent me to Poland or the Middle East instead, but here I am. The only caveat was that I had to learn German. “No biggie,” I had said, full of swag and confidence, “I’ll master that in no time.”
I stroll along the Kastanienallee and consider a Friday night cocktail when my phone buzzes in my pocket to announce a text from my friend Max. He is one of those Germans who only want to speak English with foreigners. It reads, Now your weekly all-expenses-paid lusting session is over, meet me at Der Hobby in half an hour .
I’m not one to keep a crush a secret—and I’m sure Giselle was the first to know.
***
“I’m not kidding.” I try to convince Max with a bold stare. “We need to speak German. What if Giselle flunks me and the firm sends me back to the UK?”
“How can she flunk you when you don’t even have exams?”
“She must give them progress reports or something. This private teaching business isn’t exactly cheap.”
“Then try a little harder, darling.”
My biggest misconception about Germans when I first arrived was that they would all speak with a gayish lispy accent. Max is one of the biggest poofs in Berlin and his English pronunciation is better than mine.
“Anyway, let’s move on to more important subjects. Berghain tonight?” He bites his lip in anticipation of his monthly night of complete hedonistic escapism. I’ve only accompanied him once and it took me three months to recover. Berghain is such an assault on the senses. Of course, Max calls it a thrilling feast.
I grimace and scrunch my mouth into an indecisive pout. “I’m not sure I’m up for it tonight.”
“Come on. Andreas is bringing Ellen and we both know she has the hots for you.”
Ellen is a nice girl, a typical Berlin hipster wearing polkadot dresses under heavy leather jackets, with black-dyed bangs and huge brown eyes. I do find her attractive and even kissed her once, but truth be told, the second I closed my eyes all I saw was Giselle’s face scolding me. You can kiss them but you can’t speak German with them? It kind of put a damper on things. So much so, that I haven’t popped my Berlin cherry yet.
“This teacher infatuation is getting out of hand. Give Ellen a chance.”
Max has always championed Ellen as a prospective love interest for me. Judging from his rave reviews she’s the second coming to lesbians around the world, but I can’t help but wonder why she’s single then. And going for me.
“You’re right, Schatzie.” Giselle would be so proud of me for utilising her language to address Max, instead of the endless affected ‘darlings’ we shower each other with in casual conversation. “I’ll keep an open mind tonight, but don’t you get her hopes up.”
“As if.” Max smirks and checks his watch. “One more drink followed by a disco nap. Let’s meet at midnight. The queue should still be doable then and it gives us plenty of time to get into the groove.”
***
I check myself in the mirror. I have a bit of a dark circle situation going on underneath my eyes and my eyelids sag slightly. If someone is drunk enough to want me tonight, they’ll have to take me flaws and all. I remember Ellen and decide it’s in the bag already, anyway. An unexpected shudder of anticipation creeps up my spine. It really has been a long
Giselle teaches from a spacious basement studio in Prenzlauer Berg, a ten-minute walk along broad boulevards from my flat. I breathe in the autumnal Berlin air and I couldn’t be happier. I couldn’t believe my luck when my company sent me here. I’d never made it a secret that relocating to Berlin was my ultimate goal. I just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. I work for an international architecture and design firm and they could have sent me to Poland or the Middle East instead, but here I am. The only caveat was that I had to learn German. “No biggie,” I had said, full of swag and confidence, “I’ll master that in no time.”
I stroll along the Kastanienallee and consider a Friday night cocktail when my phone buzzes in my pocket to announce a text from my friend Max. He is one of those Germans who only want to speak English with foreigners. It reads, Now your weekly all-expenses-paid lusting session is over, meet me at Der Hobby in half an hour .
I’m not one to keep a crush a secret—and I’m sure Giselle was the first to know.
***
“I’m not kidding.” I try to convince Max with a bold stare. “We need to speak German. What if Giselle flunks me and the firm sends me back to the UK?”
“How can she flunk you when you don’t even have exams?”
“She must give them progress reports or something. This private teaching business isn’t exactly cheap.”
“Then try a little harder, darling.”
My biggest misconception about Germans when I first arrived was that they would all speak with a gayish lispy accent. Max is one of the biggest poofs in Berlin and his English pronunciation is better than mine.
“Anyway, let’s move on to more important subjects. Berghain tonight?” He bites his lip in anticipation of his monthly night of complete hedonistic escapism. I’ve only accompanied him once and it took me three months to recover. Berghain is such an assault on the senses. Of course, Max calls it a thrilling feast.
I grimace and scrunch my mouth into an indecisive pout. “I’m not sure I’m up for it tonight.”
“Come on. Andreas is bringing Ellen and we both know she has the hots for you.”
Ellen is a nice girl, a typical Berlin hipster wearing polkadot dresses under heavy leather jackets, with black-dyed bangs and huge brown eyes. I do find her attractive and even kissed her once, but truth be told, the second I closed my eyes all I saw was Giselle’s face scolding me. You can kiss them but you can’t speak German with them? It kind of put a damper on things. So much so, that I haven’t popped my Berlin cherry yet.
“This teacher infatuation is getting out of hand. Give Ellen a chance.”
Max has always championed Ellen as a prospective love interest for me. Judging from his rave reviews she’s the second coming to lesbians around the world, but I can’t help but wonder why she’s single then. And going for me.
“You’re right, Schatzie.” Giselle would be so proud of me for utilising her language to address Max, instead of the endless affected ‘darlings’ we shower each other with in casual conversation. “I’ll keep an open mind tonight, but don’t you get her hopes up.”
“As if.” Max smirks and checks his watch. “One more drink followed by a disco nap. Let’s meet at midnight. The queue should still be doable then and it gives us plenty of time to get into the groove.”
***
I check myself in the mirror. I have a bit of a dark circle situation going on underneath my eyes and my eyelids sag slightly. If someone is drunk enough to want me tonight, they’ll have to take me flaws and all. I remember Ellen and decide it’s in the bag already, anyway. An unexpected shudder of anticipation creeps up my spine. It really has been a long
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