Anthology - Part VI:
I don’t remember arriving in Berlin. Or even disembarking at the now closed Tegel Airport. I remember the delicious cookies I got from the cabin crew of the quick KLM flight from Amsterdam, and I remember seeing snow at the tarmac in Schipol. But my first memory of Berlin is being in the 128 bus, on my way to the U6, with a heavy backpack on my back. All the excitement had, at that point, been replaced by tiredness after a 24h journey across the Atlantic.
It wasn’t until a few days later that it dawned on me that the first day of the rest of my European life was finally here. I didn't know at the time that it would be the rest of my life, and that I would never end up using my return ticket scheduled for 6 months later. I also had no idea that I would meet someone right at the beginning, someone who would break my heart and my soul in a really catastrophic way. But most importantly, I had absolutely no clue that the love of my life was so close to me, waiting to board the same train I got every day to go home.
Two guys. Once again, two guys. Who were, once again, completely different from each other. And once again, one of them was perfect for me, and had the potential to make me happy. The other was, once again, the one I chose. You would think that after all that happened to me, I would have learned by this point. Yeah, I thought so too. I arrived in Berlin thinking that I would finally get things right this time. And when I was with the wrong guy, I honestly thought I was making the right choice. I also wish I could tell you reader that I realised, on my own, that I messed this up again. But that credit is not mine. That belongs to a certain Yogi bear, one who crossed my path - literally! - whilst I was waiting to board the U1 train to Kurfürstendamm, at a station called Schlesisches Tor.
Despite how far we got, the story of Yogi and me is long, complicated and beautiful, and I would need a whole book to write everything that is to be written about it. It has never been one of massive peaks of happiness, followed by huge troughs of sadness. I never really felt like I was the happiest person in the world at his side. But I also never felt so sad that nothing was worth it. We had our rough moments, like everyone does, but in the grand scheme of things, I am always happy beside him. Some people might find this boring, some people might need more excitement. I respect that. Me, I need peace. I need to know that he will be there for me. I need to know that I will be happy. He always has, and I have a feeling he always will, give me exactly what I need. Not more, not less. He loves me, just as I am. If I’m anything like Bridget Jones, he is my Mark Darcy.
As for the other guy, for a long time I hated him. I made him the enemy. The Daniel Cleaver of my Diary. I built this one-sided version of him, where he took the fall for every bad thing that happened to me in that tough start of my life in Berlin. But when I turned 40, I decided to reach out to him. I have a feeling he initially thought I wanted to hook up, although maybe I’m wrong. We didn’t hook up. Instead, we sat in a park close to his place and had an honest conversation, one which helped me realise that I also had a lot to contribute to the whole situation. That I was not the hero I used to tell people, and he was definitely not the embodiment of evil. If anything, I was a lot of work, and he wasn’t really willing to, or able, to deal with me back then.
Our chat made me see him in a more human light. Like how I found out with my last boyfriend in Brazil, I had further confirmation that the way someone looks, the things that they are into, their socioeconomic background, none of these things on their own are an indication that someone will be good or bad - in general, or to me. People are way more complicated than that. Yes, some things in life are bad, and there’s no argument around it. But in general, it’s much more about the choices we make, and the consequences of these choices. Everyone is trying their best. Everyone has insecurities. Everyone has fears. Everyone will make choices that they will regret, and the consequences of these choices will shape them further down the line. The bullies from school, my first love, my first boyfriend in Berlin, I like to believe that these guys did not make it their life mission to harm me. The way I saw them had much more to do with me, and how I needed them to be the enemy at that point in my life, probably to help me understand the consequences of the choices I made when I was with them.
That chat with the other guy from Berlin made me realise something else: Yogi gave me something that the other guy didn’t. Yogi invested in me. Despite all the issues I had. Despite not knowing me. Despite his relationship, despite how his friends and family would react to us being together, despite everything that could have gone wrong. He showed me what love was. He showed me my value, and what I should ask from others. He showed me care, kindness, love. He didn’t give up on me when I gave up on myself. He made sure I took care of me, he helped me emotionally and financially just because, without knowing if I'd appreciate it, or take advantage of him. He held my hand when I was afraid, and he stayed by my side when I was lonely. I used to think that I chose him amongst them both, but the truth is that he chose me. He chose to give me a chance, he chose to believe in me and to fight for me. He gave me attention, the attention I’m not sure I ever got from anyone else, not even from my parents, when I was a baby. I didn’t need to be the grown up anymore around him. I didn’t need to be anybody else. I just had to be me. I was finally enough. In my version of Muriel’s wedding, Yogi is undoubtedly my Rhonda.
You’re not alone - ATB
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