no.11 “captain redbeard’s odyssey”

The other day I was talking to a guy on Grindr who invited me to take a walk with him instead of asking how big my dick was. I have to say I do appreciate politeness, and talking a walk was a lovely idea on what was in reality something like the twelfth day of spring, but for the purpose and atmosphere of this story I will hereby call the first.

About 30 minutes later we met right in the middle of our apartments, at a tram station by the river Elbe which divides the city of Dresden in two halves, with the southern half being the part where the major malls and sights and the university and the dorms are located, and the northern half where the artsy neighborhoods and old abandoned industry buildings sit. 

His name was Sergei, he was a little shorter than me and had pale skin and rust-colored hair. Although he was younger than me, his hairline was already receding, but I kinda liked that about him. Paradoxically it made him look more inexperienced, like his hair wasn’t receding, but hadn’t yet started growing all the way. From the moment we hugged I could tell he was a kind person. We got some ice cream - me pistachio and him zabaione, which I have been lectured about many times but to this day will not accept as a flavor. We walked along the river as the sun came out. He told me about his struggles as a law student which were made even more strenuous by his actual desire of becoming a graphic novelist. He told me he had to do law so that his parents would be happy. He showed me some of his drawings on his phone and I thought they were quite good, although I was biased since they were mostly of semi-naked men. But not in primarily „sexy“ erotica poses; they were looking very cozy, snuggling up to a blanket or balancing a pillow on their asses while only wearing briefs and sometimes a thong. I would definitely pay money for that and told him as much. I’m still waiting for the graphic novel about five red-haired friends breaking into a pillow factory to, you know, not go down on each other but have the coziest night of their lives.

We sat down on a park bench overlooking the river and right away he asked if he could kiss me. This was moving a little fast but I was up for it and that way could maybe look into the flavor of zabaione some more. Soon we were full-on making out, undisturbed by the few passers-by along the Elbe, one of which was actually whistling at us. We stopped for a second, looked down on each other’s pants and each realized the respective erection the other one had going on. We smiled at each other. I asked him if he wanted to go to his place. He said we could try. I didn’t know what that meant, but decided to think nothing of it.

On the way to his place, crossing a bridge and passing the synagogue over to the „South Side“ we talked about why he had come to the city. He was originally from Northern Germany but moved to Dresden because he got accepted into law school here. Funny how almost everyone I had met so far was from another place and moved there because they got places to study or for financial reasons. To be honest I had absolutely no reason for moving there in the first place, but neither did I have any reason not to. And after a few short months the city was really growing on me. I had even become acquainted with one of the kiosk owners around the corner.

„Oh shit.“ Sergei stopped. We had walked all the way to his apartment in Striesen and now stood in front of the open gate that led to the inner courtyard of the building. There were two yellow balloons hanging under the long archway and laughter came out from the garden. „I totally forgot. My roommate’s sister is celebrating her birthday today.“

„In your apartment?“ I asked, confused.

„In the apartment, in the garden, on the stairway. Pretty much in the whole building. Oh no! And they’re so annoyingly generous and nice, when we walk in there they’ll offer us chairs and cake and, you know… maybe even cake pops!“ Sergei sighed loudly.

„Listen it’s, it’s like totally fine if we leave. We don’t have to go in. It’ll be weird to introduce me and everything.“ I smiled at him.

„You sure? I guess we’ve only just met.“ Sergei seemed elated. I wasn’t keen on meeting his friends anyway, I hardly knew him.

„Yeah let’s go. We’ll come up with something.“ I said.

„Alright,“ Sergei concluded as we walked back the way we came. „Although they are great bakers.“

„Can we go to your place?“ Sergei asked as we took a detour through the Großer Garten, the biggest urban park in town. I thought about the turd in the toilet bowl, the fork in the washing machine and the wafer-thin walls. „Roommates.“ I said and shrugged. „But I have an idea.“

The Hush Little Hostel in Dresden Neustadt was located in the backyard of a turn of the century building not far from where I lived. I had no idea how much hostel rooms in Germany cost and there was no sign out front advertising rates or such - everything was still analogue! Sergei was feeling a little weird about the whole notion of renting a room for a couple of hours to have sex in the middle of the afternoon. I told him not to be so Calvinist and promised him I would do the talking. When we walked in the owner sitting behind the counter was looking out from under his reading glasses and twisted his lips in a crooked smile. How can he already tell what we’re up to? Does this happen a lot?

„What can I do you for?“ The 40-year old owner with slicked back hair said. When I asked him how much a room for two hours would cost and he told me he only rented for the night and it would be 34 € for both, I took out my wallet and looked at it.

„Hey, do you-“ I started saying to Sergei, turning around to find him gone. „Not for everyone, sweetie.“ The owner winked at me. Backyard people.

Back outside I found Sergei leaning against a wall. „Maybe we should just call it a day.“ I looked at him and couldn’t help but kiss him. He grinned. I told him I would, but could not, call it a day. So I dragged him into the movie theater across the street, up the stairs to the restroom and into the toilet stall I locked shut. „Are you crazy?“ He said, his lips between mine. „Nope, this is happening.“ I replied, muffled by his tongue. He started to giggle as I unbuckled him and pulled down his pants, exposing a pair of briefs so white and comfortable that they surely must have been the inspiration for several of his drawings. This was happening. Finally. My sight blinded by a shirt half pulled up over my face I was all the more surprised when a low but clearly audible sound emerged from the room. A long, slouching, drawn-out fart rang out. It sounded wet as well. I sighed and looked sadly at Sergei. There was no denying it. A guy in the stall next to us was taking a seemingly long-overdue shit. That was happening, too.

„Alright, now I agree. Let’s call it a day.“ This time I was the one leaning against a wall outside, but with my head, not with my back.

Right when we got back to the tram station where we had met up about five hours earlier, Sergei narrowed his eyes and looked up at the sky. „Actually… it’s not really day anymore.“ I arched my head back. Was he thinking the same thing I was thinking? 

Minutes later the sun had set and the two of us were back on that same park bench we ate ice cream on. There was still the occasional passer-by, but by now the light was dying so quickly, only shapes and colors were distinguishable on the grassy patches along the Elbe. Shut out from the spaces we inhabited and each worked hard to avoid, we were forced to find a space in the city, outside, to temporarily occupy and use for what we were too afraid to admit to the people we lived with: suck each other’s dicks.

Unzipping Sergei’s pants and taking out his cock next to a couple of gardenias by the park bench, I just had to think about the irony of all of this. Look at us supposedly civilized people. We were young, lived in a big city, were oh-so advanced and progressive, we were students, we valued science and knowledge, and appreciated the arts, all the doors seemed to open up before us, but the one giant we couldn’t slay was our own feeling of shame; admitting to our innermost desires. But sure enough, and thank heavens, the river would always force us to.