During my first week of work in Berlin I was introduced to a guy whose office was down the hall from mine. There was an instantaneous GLLLL* moment.
*GLLLLL = a guttural reaction signifying some sort of combination of excitement/anxiousness/awkwardness. This term was coined in college with my friend Keaton, and it works well both out loud in discussion or as part of a gchat conversation. It can also be used as an adjective.
Okay on the same page now? I didn't think so. What else is new? The point is, from that initial meeting, I felt something. So needless to say I was extremely "GLLLLy" when he asked me to lunch a week or so later.
Once out in the real world, aka not the office, the conversation flowed, but with an undercurrent of hesitation. This might have had something to do with him out-of-the-blue sharing his resent resignation of a long-term relationship. Rot flag. (Rot means red in German. Language and life lessons, people!)
There was no way I was going to pursue something with him knowing he was in that mental state. I am only sometimes a dating masochist, and luckily being new to a foreign country was not that time.
Anyway, we had lunch once more after that, but then he went on holiday for a few weeks. I met The German. We both retreated into our own worlds, occasionally saying hi in the hall. Later on I moved offices to the floor below and never had an excuse to see him. And that was that. He was the cute guy who I once went to lunch with and nothing more.
And then, a couple of weeks ago, I went to dinner with my boss. She made a comment about how perhaps I should have given him a chance instead of The German. "Ummm, was there a chance to be had?" I asked. She had thought so. Apparently he would smirk every time my name was mentioned. Well it's too late now, I thought.
But then he emailed me for a final lunch date before I left. With this new found knowledge of his smirking tendencies egging me on, I decided to be bold. I suggested drinks instead. Weekend drinks. Suggesting weekend drinks to a professional colleague is like sending an email that says "We should make out. Best regards, Rachel."
We met at Cafe Luzia, a dimly lit bar at 7:30pm. We talked for seven hours. Seven hours. The length of time it takes to fly across the Atlantic. (I am really hoping my flight home goes by that quickly, but I doubt it.) There was something about us being there. All the previous awkward hesitation out of the way. Enough time has gone by for us both to be available. It was refreshing. It was fun. It was uncontrollably GLLLLy.
Nothing like making the most of a last week. On Sunday afternoon he met me at the aquarium because it's been on my Berlin Bucket List since I have the same interests as an elementary school kid. (Actual conversation: Him: "Maybe I'll take my niece here when she comes to visit." Me: "How old is she?" Him: "Six." Yep, real mature, Rachel.)
But apparently my childlike enthusiasm was appreciated because tomorrow he's taking me to dinner at a restaurant once patronized by Brad Pitt. And on Friday, my last night, I'm going with him to an 80s hip-hop concert.
Because why not?
If I've learned anything from this whole move-across-the-world experience it's that you never know what will happen unless you go for it. And, plus, who else can say they saw De La Soul on their last night in Berlin? Just Me, Myself & I.
(hahahaha.)
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