I get no kick from cocaine...

Last night, when I was politely offered cocaine by a nice looking guy I had just made out with, I just shrugged. I guess I was more fascinated by the way it was offered: "Then would you like to have some cocaine with me?", as it was said in a very thickly accented English. I had no problem saying, that "No. I don't think I would like it". And much in the way that some people take pride in all the drugs they've done, I'm a square in the fact that I like to say that I've never done drugs. Except pot, and hash, and the one time somebody gave me roofies.

However, he had a cute smile, so I said, "Well I guess I could try it"..

And P.S. there I was in a bathroom stall of a Berlin nightclub making out with a new friend and sniffing coke off a credit card. Whatever. We also took part in somewhat more acceptable behaviors such as dancing. But I guess you really couldn't call it that. I can't believe how long were there. Making out until the peripheries of our mouths were red.

I thought that we were ready to get out of there, but maybe 1.5 litres of beer later (that's 3 bottles here), we finally were.

"I think that we should maybe have another beer."

"Shall we have some more cocaine?"

"Perhaps we could go behind this curtain"

But what a cute face. And what a cute smile. He was almost ten years older than me. Which is the youngest I've had in a while. And I don't know why that is. I swear that it's just a coincidence. I don't know when the last time I've actually even met someone my age. Anywhere. I want to say Paris 2006, Hernan Lopez from Colombia. I might have even verbalized that he was cute, this guy. Which is something I try not to do, as I feel desperate doing so. It's ok if someone says it to me, but me saying it just sounds wrong.

Finally we were outside waiting on this New Man's Friend before we could get a taxi. I had no money left, and there seems to be a scarcity of ATMs as well as places that take credit cards. I don't really get it. My friend will pay, he told me. I grimaced. I hate that.

When we got back to the place, which was an old communist block near Karl Marx Allee (formerly Stalin Allee), it was almost nine in the morning and it was time for dinner apparently. We had some roast and some potato dumplings, and it was all pretty heavy. And almost nauseating. And this coming from someone who, in their drinking and driving days would wait a half hour for a sack of White Castles at three or four in the morning.

I don't know if it was before or after, but the new gang brought out the coke once again. And I said, "You know, I don't think I really know how to do it very well." Come on!.. "Alright, just to be sociable". I don't know what I was doing, but I guess I wasn't snorting hard enough, and I just kind of messed up the line. I swear that if they weren't looking I would've just wiped the whole thing off the mirror and made a sniffing sound. Can't people just be happy getting shitface drunk?

Alright then. After all that then it's time to go have sex. But before that it's time to go to to bathroom and fart as inconspicuously as possible. All that beer, meat and potatoes and I really don't feel half as sexy as when I walked out the door, ten hours earlier.

Thankfully, the place was large enough where this roommate was very far away. But I could've sworn My New Friend said he lived alone. Maybe he just meant his bedroom. That he didn't have bunkbeds or something. But that couldn't be.

We fooled around. We did this and that. Yadayadayada and then finally I could fall asleep. It was 3:30 in the afternoon when we got up to have breakfast, which, I felt bad about, but could barely eat. A couple of advil and a diet Pepsi would've been better. A BIG fountain drink with tons of crushed ice like they have back home in the U.S.A.....

Before I left, I gave him my number. And I'm glad I did, because I actually left my watch there.

And I looked horrible when I left I know. God.

But stepping out on to the expansive Karl Marx Allee on a grey grey day like today, I had to think...Or rather, I thought. I stood there on the corner, not crossing the street to go down to the U-Bahn station, just thinking. I thought about My New Friend. I wondered how awful I looked. I wondered what I was doing. I thought about old East German times. I thought how Karl Marx Allee must look it's best on a steel grey day like today rather than a sunny one.

Finally I crossed the street and descended down the stairs to U-Bahn line 8.