I've Been Meaning to Tell You Something

I met someone. (I know, way to bury the lede on that one.) Let me take the initiative to answer the hypothetical questions you must be dying to ask me.

Is he German? Duh. Thus we will refer to him as The German.

Does he speak English? Duh. His English might be better than mine, actually, considering my love for abbreves and made up words. I'm having to tone that down so he can understand me.

Does he have a cute accent? Yes. Sigh.

Has he ever been to America? Yeah, he's spent a fair amount of time there. His parents "holiday" in Florida once or twice a year. He's been to New York. And next spring he's going to his friend's wedding in the great metropolis of Fredericksburg, Texas. Pretttty exciting.

Does he know about this blog? Not to my knowledge! After the poor reaction from the last guy I dated, I think I will wait until a) he finds it himself or b) I feel obligated to share it with him.

What's he like? So dream-y. Handsome, tall, tan, charming, sweet, smart, etc. Oh, and he dresses well. Like jeans and polos, NOT man-capris and black socks with sandals.

How did you meet? At my friend Uli's party. To be honest, it was a bit of a set-up. A few weeks earlier, I had asked her if she and her boyfriend knew any guys to introduce me to. (New city = new friends-of-friends possibilities!) They mentioned a guy who they would invite him to the party, and when he showed up I was secretly very excited. We were chatting, and at one point he moved to sit next to me on the couch. Apparently everyone started placing on bets on whether we liked it each other. It was very middle-school-esque, which happens to be my dating specialty. Later he shared his jacket with me because I refuse to dress for the weather. Then we held hands. Awwwww. Then we danced together. Like I said, very middle-school. (That is, if guys actually had liked me in middle school.)


Have you been on, like, dates and stuff? Not only have we hung out more times in one week than I have with guys I've dated for months in New York, but we have also done fun activities together. Last week he invited me to see a German-cult classic movie at the Kino (cinema) with this brother and his girlfriend. The movie was dubbed in German (originally in Italian), but it was made in the 70s and was campy enough that I managed to understand a lot! Then on Friday he invited me to a wine tasting. We arrived a few minutes late to find a table of maybe 20 people introducing themselves. In my best German, I said, "Mein name ist Rachel. Ich komme aus den New York. Ich spreche nur ein bischen Deutsche aber Ich kann trinken." ("My name is Rachel. I come from New York. I only speak a little German but I can drink.") Afterward, he told me he was impressed with my introduction and said people found it very charming. I am not sure if that part is true, but it was a good night: I learned some stuff about Portuguese wine, bought a few bottles for my upcoming house guests, and alerted him to the fact that, when presented with the opportunity, I will eat my body's weight in free cheese. The next morning we took a day trip together, driving around Germany in his convertible (more on that later) eating a picnic on a beach, and enjoying being out of the city. That night we went to a birthday party where we danced to some good ol' fashioned American Oldies. He's got some sweet moves, and not just for a German.

Are you going to get married and stay in Germany forever? Yes, mom.

Okay, that's all for now... I'll keep you posted...

Wednesday's Edition of Living Vicariously Through Others

A few months ago, I wrote about how a new friend's relationship inspired me to not give up on meeting a guy in New York. To sum up their story: After having known each other as friendly acquaintances for a few years, L and K finally started dating. She's great, he's great, they're great. Instant love connection. It was only a matter of time until they got engaged. Except then it didn't happen. And she waited. And waited. And there was still no ring. And ohmygosh seriously? (This is my own impatience talking. I like instant gratification when living vicariously through others.)

After recently moving in (to a sick apartment) together, we were all on high-alert. Any vacation or trip to the beach warranted a 'is there anything you want to tell us???' email. I suggested she get weekly manicures for the show-off-the-bling photos that were sure to take place any minute. And then I went off to Germany ringless. I mean, I left for Germany and L was ringless. (Yes, I get that this isn't about me, but it's my blog and I am a sad, crazy person!) While I (selfishly) would have preferred this time to coincide with me being in the city so I could squeal about it in person, I'm beyond excited that it happened last weekend. Anyway, after attempting to piece together the sequence of events via Facebook stalking, I made L write up a recap for me, which she is sweet enough to share with all of you. Because who doesn't like feelings of jealousy happiness to help get her (or for my lone male reader, 'him') through the week. Did I mention her fiance is a handsome doctor. Okay I'll shut up now.

So, my story is not nearly as creepy as your story [Ed note: I sent her a Euro dating update]...but very exciting!! K finally proposed and it was absolutely, 100% worth the wait. (minus my craziness of asking him every day for the past 2 months where my g-d ring is!!!). So, in "hurricane" prep...we were being evacuated from our building..and had to bring everything inside off our patio. However, it was GORG out..no sign of any hurricane in sight..so we said screw this..and K suggested we go to Chelsea Piers for a drink. We got there...and it was empty because everyone in NYC apparently had already gone into hurricane hiding. K suggested we go take a walk out on the dock..but the dock master (who K had previously instructed to give us a hard time) would not let us on..then, finally he was like "eh, go ahead it is so quiet here today..it's your lucky day!" So as soon as we walk out onto the pier..I was like "holy shit, K...check out that yacht!!!" so K was like..let's see if he will take us for a ride. So the boat keeper (this French man that sounded just like the boat guy from 'along came polly') was like..I'm actually heading to get fuel, you guys are welcome to come along. Being the most oblivious person on earth...I was thinking this guy was going to like kidnap us or something..so I kept being like K, I think this is a BAD idea. Seconds later my ADD kicked in..and I just was enjoying being on a 42 ft yacht at sunset. We drove all the to the statue of liberty..and then on the way back we passed our apt building. K was such a good actor..and was like omg, I think people are in our apt taking the stuff off the balcony for the hurricane! At this point he just "happened to have binoculars" in his bag..which I didn't even pick up on bc I was like "We are going to get in so much trouble for not taking our stuff inside!" (bc the city was being so ridiculously over-cautious about this hurricane that everything was mandatory at our building since we are feet from the Hudson river). So I grab the binoculars from him..and I am trying to focus on our apt (meanwhile ...K is behind me..on one knee..while it literally took me 4 mins to find our apt. So...hanging across our whole dining room/living room windows was this HUGE sign that said "will you marry me" I just screamed...started crying..and turned around and tackled him. It was amazing. When we got back to our apt both our families were there with bubbly and presents and hugs. 

I die, don't you? When I read this the first time, I laughed so hard because everything about it is very them. And it was still a great, sweet surprise after so much build-up. I mean, this guy set up a hurricane for her? (The alternative could have been like another long-term couple's story I recently heard where they moved in together and the boyfriend yelled at the girl to hurry up in the bathroom and when she came out, he was on one knee. That does not bode well for future romance!)

But this does. Creative, romantic, and well, I mean, just look at the bling.

I'd say it was worth the wait. (And, btw, nice mani.)

CONGRATS TO YOU BOTH!!!!!!!!!!! MISS YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Legen-Wait-For-It-Dary Weekend

Approximately one day after I booked my ticket to Berlin, my first guest booked his too. My roommate The BFF's BF's roommate BK (good luck explaining that to anyone, much less people whose native language is not English) was lucky enough to be planning a month-long Euro adventure and figured Berlin would be the perfect final stop. I think he made a good decision.

BK is one of those guys that brings out the fun in everyone. To say he is enthusiastic would be an understatement. (Do you know anyone else who sings "Party Rock" in the shower?) In New York you always know it'll be a great night if it's with him and his friends, so I hoped that he would provide the same entertainment here. He did not disappoint.

We started off the weekend with a low-key Thursday night touring my neighborhood and admiring the local prostitutes. What, you can't find a bunch of pretty young sex workers within walking distance? How American of you. (I had stumbled upon these freelancers earlier in the week when I was coming back from Pilates. I saw two of them decked out in pleather platform stripper shoes, tights and lingerie walking toward me. Literally, in my head, I thought oh, they must be headed to a theme party. Who knows, maybe there's a frat down the block!? Where are their tails and ears, it's almost like their costume is 'stripper.' Then I saw another similarly-dressed girl loitering a few meters behind them. How rude they aren't waiting for their friend! Oh wait. There are more of them. They're everywhere. THEY'RE ACTUALLY HOOKERS. Case closed: I am an idiot.)

The next day while I was at work, BK explored the city, learning first-hand how extremely spread out everything is, which is totally not accurately depicted on any map. That evening we met some of my friends for dinner at Prater Garten, the oldest beer garden in Berlin. Not quite The Standard...you know, cause it wasn't full of FJO's...but it was still great to try some local beer and cuisine. We ended up later at an outdoor "beach bar" dancing to techno all night...and running into friends of last weekend's cougarbait. Small world!

The following day was gray and dreary so I did what I do best on the weekends: Eat and do nothing. Luckily by that evening I pulled myself together and we went to my friend Uli's flat where she was having people over. Hooray, the perfect opportunity for me to expand my social circle. Let's just say I owe her big time. (And not just because one of the guys there was very cute.)

It was hands down one of the most fun times I've had in a long time. I mean, how could it not be when it included discussing the greatness of How I Met Your Mother, having a German bier tasting, and making inappropriate jokes. FYI: Laughter is the same in any language. 

It became clear that BK's enthusiasm was quite appreciated, and somehow in the span of only a few hours he managed to have everyone using his "PARTY ROCK!" catch-phrase while also single-handedly bringing (Smirnoff) "Icing" to Germany.

We left Uli's flat in a heard of new friends, leading to what was described as a "very typical Berlin" night. (Or how I imagine it would be to go out in Brooklyn.) Crashing a private birthday party at a "non-bar" co-op? Check. Stumbling on a impromptu dance party underneath a bridge? Check. Going to an underground concert at five am? Check. Walking home in broad daylight the next morning? Check.

Definitely not something I can handle every weekend, but now I feel like I can actually say Ich bin ein Berliner.

(Thanks, BK, for being a great sidekick!)

Guest Post: Where Are They Now? (Exes Edition)

Ed note: I was a little annoyed with myself because I literally have nothing interesting to write about. And then I got a message from my friend Elizabeth, who writes a hilarious dating blog Men and Such. Hooray, hooray, guest blog fodder! Much more interesting than me telling you how I really appreciate German efficiency, e.g. the elevators don't run continuously. We all dodged a bullet, this is wayyy better. (I am fairly certain it is impossible to giggle out loud about being environmentally conscious.) Hope you enjoy it too!

Elizabeth: I have been lucky to have dated some real “gems” the past few years. I realized the other weekend (after another run-in) that four of the five live in the same city as me and the most recent one is about to move here. How convenient! Not. The worst is the guy I dated that I work with… I am forced to do crazy things like curl my hair, wear heels, and dress cute to work. Woe is me.

I might live in a city with over a million other people but I run into these guys everywhere (work, church, bars, stop lights, restaurants, etc). I wish we could all divide up this city. I want Mi Cocina, they can have On the Border (ew). I want Northpark and the Walgreens on Lovers. They can have TABC and The Londoner, but not during TX/OU weekend. I get Whole Foods and they have can have Central Market, but only after 8 pm. You get the picture.

Here's the line up...

Junior year of college makeout obsession: In my defense, the whole thing started by him taking me on a date. How it turned into a big makeout/drama fest is beyond me. Throw in his psycho ex-girlfriend and anything can happen. He is currently living in the same city as me. I think* he just broke up with his blonde/fake boob long-term girlfriend. Sadly, he's gotten kind of chubby.

Ex-boyfriend of 3 years: Apparently, he took his girlfriend on a surprise trip to Sea Island, Georgia and then broke up with her. Still living in the same city as me, unfortunately. However, it is unclear if he still wears scarves.

(Side note: after we broke up, one of my friends ran into him out and he was wearing a SCARF. This is not okay in the South.)

 

Tall, very cute rebound boy: We have managed to be semi-friends and on good terms (shocking). He called me a couple months ago and told me he hadn’t kissed anyone since me… I did not share with him that I have been busy making out in bars and with boys named after beef burgers since we went our separate ways. (Yeah, I made out with a guy named Angus back in January. True story.)

 Work boy: Yes, I was dumb enough to fall for someone I work with, who then decided he’d rather date… someone else we work with. Oh, he and the work girl are very much in love. He just took her on a two week vacation, which included meeting his family. They shack every night and come to work together. Kill me now. Just kidding. Deep breaths. I’m not still bitter…

 

High school fling: To be clear, we had a fling in high school and dated for a second time this summer. (I did NOT have a fling with someone currently in high school.) I have not heard from him since our awkward fight (totally his fault) when he said some really ridiculous things to me via text message. He will be moving to my city in December. F-bomb.

 This town ain’t big enough for all six of us. 

Good luck, girl...you might need it...but hey, your awkward run-ins are our gain...

Looking Into The Future

Last weekend I spent a good day straight reading one of the new books I'd downloaded on my iPad, I Totally Meant to Do That by Jane Bordon. 

I could lie to you and say I just found it by randomly searching on iBooks, but we're friends. I'm going to be honest with you. One night I was bored while simultaneously in need of some "maybe I won't die alone" inspiration and found myself on the New York Times' Vows site where couples can film their own 'how we met' videos. My favorite was Jane and her husband Nathan's, who talked about how they met "like people did 30 years ago: at a coffee shop." Watch it so I feel like less of a stalkerish loser, please. Aren't they adorable?

Anyway, from there I learned she had written a book about the struggle of being a Southerner in New York, always feeling the tug of home while loving her life in the city (or in her case, after a few years, Brooklyn). Considering that is more or less my life, I of course had to read it.

I loved it. It's funny how a total stranger can have so many similar experiences only a few years ahead of you in life. (Her description of the "Frat halfway house" to describe the rotating apartments full of Southern guys in Murray Hill or the Upper East Side was spot on.)

She also compares her Craigslist roommate searches to that of Rush (she was a Tri-Delt at UNC, which I learned was not much different than my experience as a Kappa at UT). Although, while she did have some interesting living situations, none seemed nearly as horrible as being accosted about condiments by a Psychoface. Oh wait, I never lived above a heroin dealer. She wins.

Before I had finished the book, I'd Skyped with my grandma Dolo and told her about it. She was not excited about me reading this pro-New York propaganda. But in the final chapter, Jane makes peace with the fact that leaving New York won't be giving up on her future. It'll just be a change.

Considering I deal with this subject every single time I speak with my mother, it was good to hear the words of a wiser woman who has been in a similar situation.

Now if only I could find a cute guy at a coffee shop....

You've Seen One Baroque Palace, You've Seen 'Em All

I am really, hands-down the worst tourist ever. I blame my parents. We all have short attention spans resulting in little to no patience for waiting in lines, especially if it costs money.

But I am making an effort to at least see the things that don't require either, and doing a respectable job of it, if only to have something to share with you. Everything I do, I do it for youuuuuu. That is to say, I hope you appreciate these pictures from my little field trip outside of Berlin to Potsdam, which is home to a few palaces that used to be some Prussian Kings' "summer homes."

It is more or less Berlin's version of Versailles, and since I've toured that before, I figured wandering around the gardens and spending 10 minutes inside the Painting Gallery were adequate uses of my time (and euros). Later in the day when I Skyped with my family, no one was remotely surprised about my choices, which I found sweet. Gotta keep family traditions alive somehow even when we're so far apart. (Don't judge my family traditions and I won't judge yours :)

So here you go, Sanssouci Park:

Mustard yellow is the color for fall.

Who doesn't love a good windmill?

Mentally photoshop out the tourists.

Gallery room. Small, cheap, and no line. Just like I like it.

Look at this hilarious fat, naked baby wearing Tevas. So much attitude.
Exactly what I want my kid to be like someday.

And here are some other paintings.  If you've been to my NYC apartment, this was sort of the look I was going for.

If only the King of Prussia could see his summer house now. #rollinginhisgrave 

If only there was a bocce court, then this would really be a great place to throw summer soirees.

My next estate will definitely have a gold-detailed pagoda.

Another palace that was under construction. Hence the awkward cropping.

Hey it's me!

Nothing like some giant event planning trucks to spoil the mood.

Another palace I did not tour. 

I got sort of a Mr. Darcy feeling around these columns. Yes, that's all I have in my life, 'feelings of Mr. Darcy.'

All for now. Can't wait to show the exteriors of some more famous stuff soon!

Party People In Berlin Tonight

Everyday I'm shuffling... (If you don't get that reference then you clearly have not spent any time in a club lately. I, on the other hand, have.)

On Friday my friend SS invited me to go out with her boyfriend and one of his friends. She suggested a place called China Lounge, which was "in my neighborhood." The building is on my commute to the subway and looks like a dilapidated whorehouse, the kind of place where I'm going to be Taken and sold into white slavery or something. But since I'm hard up for friends, I obviously still agreed to go. Sorry, mom.

As it turns out, the club has actually moved into a new building on side street even closer to my flat and they just never took down the other signs. Like my own little MPD annex within walking distance. Score one for the home team.

One thing I appreciate about the places I've gone out to here is that high heels are not required. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love a good pair of heels, I just prefer looking at them versus wearing them. The "my feet hurt" excuse is best used to skip out of a bad date than miss out on dancing! Also, the dress code is a little different and I feel compelled to own up to the fact I wore out jorts with tights underneath them. No, I have not become Asian. Everyone does it here!

Stop judging me!

The night was made even better because I've finally gotten my standard drink order down. I had learned a few weeks earlier that asking for a vodka soda does not go over well here because they drink carbonated mineralwasser (aka soda) most of the time and would instead give me tonic water, which I think tastes like sugar water fermented in an old shoe. No thank you. But if you ask for vodka water with lemon, it comes out perfect. SS commented on how she thought it was weird at first, but was actually surprised with how refreshing it is. Welcome to America, my friend, the land of opportunities.

Another thing I've learned is that I'm also really good at dancing to house music. (Don't ask for a second opinion on that one.) But really, if I'm in the dancing zone, I'm all about just pulsating my entire body to the music while keeping my feet in place, not unlike a tilt-a-whirl. Maybe if I have a little personal space I will hop from foot to foot while throwing my hands in the air. I also like to think of it as my workout for the day and that I'm burning off tons of calories (which I proceed to put directly back into my body in the form of the aforementioned vodka sodas).

Anyway, apparently this was all (shockingly) working in my favor because a very precious German ended up dancing with me for the rest of the night. I was curious about how old my baby-faced friend was considering 18 year olds are allowed to go to clubs, but it turned out he was 23, unfortunately not quite putting me in the cougar status column.

Although a little disappointed, I reminded myself that there's always next weekend.