“Me and Marty were talking about you the other day,” says a German boy I vaguely know after a Lesebühne.
“Yeah?” I say. “What were you saying?”
“Well, we were both saying that we’d quite like to be fuck-buddies with you. I mean, I don’t mean both of us. But we’d both like to. I mean, either of us. We’d like to. Both of us would quite like to do that. Well, we wouldn’t mind. And it might cheer you up. But we’re a bit worried you might blog about our penises.”
Awright, so, last time I was single, I had a baby, and Facebook hadn’t been invented yet – okay, maybe it had been, but it hadn’t come to Germany yet – and I didn’t know hardly any Germans. I didn’t know hardly any men, actually. I basically never went out, apart from to PEKiP and Schlecker and places like that. I have to admit, things are a bit different now. I can kind of see why people don’t bother having relationships anymore. I keep on getting messages on Facebook saying things like: “Sorry to hear you split up from your boyfriend. Is there anything I can do to cheer you up?” Then I write back to check they mean sex. Then they either say yes or no, I didn’t, but if you want to, I would be prepared to come over on Sunday afternoon. I mean, who needs to be in a relationship? Apart from you know, all that emotional and spiritual stability and stuff, but we all know that’s just a grubby, meaningless illusion anyways.
“Why would I blog about your penises?” I ask.
“You might blog about how weird they are,” he says.
“Have you got weird penises?” I ask.
“Well, I don’t know about Marty’s but mine, well – it’s not huge – it’s not small, either. It’s not incredibly small. But it’s not huge. And it kind of bends to one side. I would hate it if you blogged about it. It’s slightly bendy.”
“Oh, that’s fine,” I say encouragingly.
“It is?”
“Yeah, slightly bendy penises are quite enjoyable, really.”
“Well, yeah. I have heard that a lot. I have had a lot of positive feedback about my penis. From quite a lot of people. Quite positive feedback.”
“Anyway,” I say. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings but I don’t need any more fuck-buddies at the moment.”
“You’ve already got one?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Well. A couple. A few. I mean. I’m doing alright.”
“How many have you got?”
I wince a little at that. “Well, at least two. Maybe three. Potentially four or five. Perhaps. Probably.”
The German boy I vaguely know looks slightly shocked. “Potentially five?”
“Only potentially,” I say.
“God,” he says. “And I thought I was doing alright on the fuck-buddy front. What do their penises look like?”
“Oh,” I say. “They’re all really beautiful, actually.”
The German boy I vaguely know nods thoughtfully. “Well,” he says. “That’s lucky, isn’t it?”
See Jacinta reading live (in German, mind) every Wednesday at 9pm at Pfefferberg, Haus 13, Schönhauser Allee, 176
