Photo by Flux FM. Jacinta Nandi rants about dating in Berlin.
So this is what dating in Berlin is like: IT IS REALLY SHIT. IT IS TOTALLY SHIT. IT IS THE SHITTIEST MOST POINTLESS ACTIVITY EVER. It is absolutely, completely, fundamentally and unbearably shit.
You know me, you guys, I love to slag off Germans. Making Germans think I hate them is basically a sexual fetish of mine. “When in doubt, tell Germans they are crap at dancing and/or racist” is absolutely the motto with which I live my life. I have it written in lipstick on my mirror and everything. But the truth is, dating in Berlin is totally shit whether you are wasting your time with useless German boys or torturing yourself pointlessly with crappy non-German timewasters. It really does NOT matter whether the rubbish boy you date is German or Brazilian, Swedish, US-American, British, South African, whatever. DATING IN BERLIN IS REALLY SHIT. It is the shittiest thing that will ever happen to you. It is fundamentally, deeply, incredibly rubbish.
This is what will happen when you start dating in Germany:
You will be gorgeous, first of all. Maybe you will be a gorgeous German single mother in her early fifties, or maybe you will be a gorgeous Polish single lady in her early twenties. Maybe you will be Indian, Spanish, Greek, Nigerian, I dunno. But you will be GORGEOUS. You will be perfect. You will be a perfect angel. Maybe you won’t have that much money, but what you’re lacking in money you’ll make up for in ambition and drive. Maybe you’ll be super-successful in your career though. You might have some mental health issues, but you’ll be working on them. And, really, ultimately, you will be PERFECT. You will be GORGEOUS. You will be WONDERFUL. There is literally nothing wrong with any of the women living and working in this town ever, except for the Nazis and women who think Hartz-IV people shouldn’t get health insurance. Every other woman in Berlin: You are all perfect. I love you all. You are wonderful. You are great, exactly as you are.
And then you will start dating…
This is what will happen to you: You’ll start dating a really, really, REALLY fucking ugly guy – ugly and stupid and boring and POOR. (And I am a socialist. I don’t think poor is an insult by the way, I just think if you’re rich it kind of maybe makes up for your being ugly, but no, this guy is POOR AS FUCK.) A really, really ugly guy with a silly hat on. He will gladly “agree” to go on a date with you, he might even possibly ask you out himself. This guy will be like, 57 if he’s German, and still live in a WG, or 27 if he’s non-German and not able to speak a word of the language of the country he lives in. THIS GUY IS NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU. He is so not good enough for you. He isn’t even worthy of passing you a glass of water, as the Germans would say. YOU ARE SO OUT OF HIS LEAGUE YOUR LEAGUE TABLE ISN’T EVEN ON THE SAME PAGE OF THE NEWSPAPER. In a normal world – i.e. every city outside of Berlin, nobody would be dating this ugly cunt anyways.
And then what will happen? After your date, maybe straight after your date, maybe he will give you three dates, maybe, oh the privilege! He will even give you three months of his precious life, he will “sadly” tell you that he isn’t looking for a girlfriend. He will do this in the manner of a very rich, very wonderful, very generous benefactor giving a poor person the sad news that they can no longer sponsor them through uni. He won’t be bitchy about it. He won’t be spiteful about it. He will be kind of sad about it.
“I am sorry,” he will say. “I don’t actually want a girlfriend!”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Fuck me sideways with a toaster, he isn’t looking for a girlfriend. THIS IS WHAT DATING IN BERLIN IS LIKE: The ugliest, most boring, stupidest, poorest fuckers aren’t “looking for girlfriends” and will inform you of this in these sad, sorry tones like they expect you to die of shock and/or disappointment.
Sometimes he will indulge in super-dickheadish behaviour like stealing money from you, giving you an STI or not telling you about his actual girlfriend, the one he’s been going out with/living with for seven hundred years already. (Note: Not dating, because nobody ever dates successfully in this shitty city – they moved here together from Wiesbaden.)
I hate to be a Negative Nancy, but there is literally no point dating in this city. Slim pickings doesn’t even begin to cover it. IT’S ANOREXIC PICKINGS HERE. It’s bad enough that no Berlin boy is looking for love, ever, it’s kind of unbearable that these ugly boring bastards wear their anti-relationshipness on their sleeves like it’s some kind of war medal. Not wanting love is a badge of honour in this cold, dark, loveless city. There’s no chance of anyone finding love in Berlin. But who needs men anyway, hey girls? The most depressing thing about Berlin is also the most empowering – men don’t want girlfriends here, but women, also, once they wake up and smell the ketamine, don’t need men. Men. Huh. I wake up every morning and spit on their souls and piss on their corpses. MEN. ”Men!” Who needs a man? Didn’t you get the memo? A Berlin woman needs a Berlin man like a fish needs an STI. That’s, you see, what vibrators and sperm banks were invented for. To make life in Berlin bearable.
