Just Like The Movies

On: A lovestory that is too good to be true, and nothing else, just that to be honest

"I didn't feel the fairytale feeling, no. Am I a stupid girl for even dreaming that I could? If it's not like the movies...That's how it should be..."   Katy Perry*

I felt the fairytale feeling. I don't even mind how kitschy this sounds or maybe made-up or out of some chick flick. I want to tell you this little story nontheless. 

So I met this guy. (It always starts like this, doesn't it?) He is young, as I may have mentioned before, but he isn't too young for me, as someone would may argue. He is just right how he is. 
To this day, I've known him for exactly 10 days. And I just fell in love.
Okay, yes I know I distinguish between crush and love and this is not love it's "Verliebtsein" and there is no English equivalent to this feeling, that finds its place right between a crush and love. I have to admit I didn't mention it in my post about these two. 

We met on a Friday night. And it was kind of random. A lovely friend of mine from Paris (who kind of forced me to come here to Freiburg because it's where she's from - and I'm not even the slightest bit of mad) that I got to know in Paris last year invited me. She is studying physics and is, like me, a starter at the university of Freiburg. 

So this is where we first kissed. Lovely, isn't it?

She has some buddies from her physics course and he was one of them. So she inivited me to come with her and her friends (I knew only one of them and I don't like her very much tbh) to a party for to-be-teachers in a place that is in the daylight a canteen for students. 


"We'll meet to drink something at the place of one of the physics-guys, ok?", she asked and neither her nor I did know the consequences of that appointment. The first and sudden consequence was me freezing half an hour in front of a frontdoor (because I didn't dare to go inside the stranger's house on my own) that was in fact the wrong door so if I went inside, that wouldn't have got me any further anyway. 

When they arrived and we finally entered the right frontdoor I was cold as ice. Not from the inside clearly and my heart warmed even more when I met him.

Actually, it was his house that we were going to, to be exact, his room in a flat share. We were like 10 people and most of them on the bed and I remember thinking: Woah, that guy is cute. But that's all. It's not that I saw him and WOOOSH! - recognized that he was, unevitably, the one true and only real love of my life. But hey, beginnings aren't always as epic as they're ought to be. (Just like endings, sadly)

We played drinking games, I had a beer which he opened for me (clichéd I guess). In the game (King's Cup to be precise) there was this rule that noone was allowed to look into the person's eyes who had the ace. For most of the time, he was the one. 
And I asked myself why I had to drink so much. I coulnd't help but looking into his eyes. 
So I drank. 

The time got later and later and the bottles of beer emptier and emptier. So we headed off to the canteen. I was in the group of 4 who got there by bike and he was, too. We had a full bottle of "Joster" (sweet, red-purple-ish liquor that is easy to drink) with us and as we waited for the rest of the group (that got there by train) we tried not to drink it too fast but in fact we did, because we played another game. During the game we talked a bit and I thought: Hey that guy is cool. And he's funny. 

I forgot the most important part of the night, my hat. Not the most important, you're right, but quite neccessary for the following events. We entered and the group (just after the more or less epic reunion in front of the entrance) splitted up again "to go to the rest room" and the wardrobe. I found myself left alone with him and another guy - we started dancing like there was nothing to be ashamed of to "Niggaz in Paris" and "Call Me Maybe". Don't ask.

I asked him: "What do you think? With my hat?" (I placed my hat on my head) "Or without?" (I replaced it quickly) He considered the options for a moment. "With the hat.", he said. "Alright"
- And you don't know how I celebrated myself for buying that shit in the first place, guys. :D
He didn't get my reaction like this (because I kind of acted like I didn't really care), for the worse, he mistook my silence as a part of my disappointment in his choice. 
He was fast to explain, stuttering: "Not that I don't think you aren't cute without your hat. In general, I mean, you are. I just think that with it on, you're even cuter."

Can you please admit that I was
 the cutest hipster on earth that night?

It was by that time that I started to wonder about how maybe this evening would end... I was like: So he thinks I'm cute... That's a base to start from! :D

Bref (=briefly), we kissed. And we danced. And we made out on the couch at 4 am in the morning when all the others were already gone. After that he accompanied me home (via bicycle and I know kids, I'm no shining example because you don't drink and drive - not even a bike). To disappoint all those little perverts among you, nothing "more" happened that night. Nothing more than the sweetest goodnight kiss and some numbers that were exchanged.

You guys know, how stories like this continue, nowadays. Facebook. Whatsapp. And then, on the following sunny Sunday afternoon, a date. I wouldn't call it awkward, just different. Both sober, both a bit more reasonable and trying to be interesting and cool and get to know each other. Overpriced coffee (you can guess where we got it), a walk along the "Dreisam" (not the Seine anymore, I'm sorry, too). A smell of autumn leaves and fresh air. The sun drawing reflexions on his hair, as we talked about family, uni, friends and whatever came to our minds. 

On our walk back to the bikes (he was freaking out about how afraid he was to get his bike stolen again), there was a "Kunsthaus" (= House of Art) that was showing an exhibition, to be more clear, an installation of a London-based artist. What seemed to be random things stolen from the next construction site down the road, spread across an enormous red carpet, were in fact objects of art. And as we were listening to construction noises inside a claustrophobical cabin of wood in the dark, I wondered why he hesistated to kiss me. 
I mean, there's nothing more romantic than a construction site, is there?

Okay, I'm kidding but, to put it in his words, it's not the art that was shitty, it was us that "didn't get it". But it was fun, anyway. It was early evening when we finally arrived back in the city and we were both hungry...so what was more obvious than to grab a bite to eat together before we headed home? We had the "best" Chinese food ever ("Willst du Ham-Ham, bestell bei Yam-Yam!") and a good conversation about art, museums, Paris, movies and more of that kind.

Even though we spent quite a while together that afternoon, I found it hard to say goodbye. There was no kiss. It was, let's say, the most platonic date in the universe, unless you count the 2 minutes I sat on his lap in the exhibition to listen to some headphones together. 
I was happy, but a little confused and a tiny little bit sad because there was this voice repeating "He doesn't like you. He doesn't like you. He doesn't like you..." like a bad advertisement jingle over and over in my head like a broken record.

You may ask: So far, so good. But when does the magic movie part begin? 
Shhh, be patient. 
We texted each other several times last week and I was forcing myself not to text him any free minute because I didn't want to scare him off in any way. 
On Wednesday night I texted him: "Hey what's up?" when I was at a Poetry Slam with two friends. He was like, immediately answering: "I was drinking with a mate and we ended up here at a poetry slam." And I was like: "Oh my god I'm here, too." And the next moment I saw him there next the stairs waving at me from across the room and my head was like: "WTF?" and my heart was like: "ALERT! ALERT! I need to get racing and crazy and stuff!" and I talked to him like it was the most ordinary of all possible scenarios. It was not that I had thought of him and pictured his hair and his cute brown eyes all day long during courses. 

After that encounter, I didn't quite know what to think. Because he acted normal, platonic of course, but quite repelling. He excused himself later on and said he was just puzzled and a bit drunk. 

Hey! Hey! The movie part! Okay, okay, there you go:
On Thursday he texted me and asked what I was up to for tonight. I had planned on driving home that night, straight after uni, finishing at 8 pm. But hey, I said to myself: Doesn't matter if 10 or 8 pm, when I will arrive home, nobody will be awake anyway. So I told him to come over for a while.

After uni (when I looked like a mess) I achieved a new record in racing on my bike (seems like I'm not a role model in traffic situations, I'm sorry), 12 min home, instead of the usual 15-20. I took a shower I brushed my teeth, I put on some music and RRRIING. There he was. Suddenly in my house, my room, on my bed. 
We talked for an hour and had a mixtape humming sweet melodies in the background. 
When the mixtape ended is where things got out of hand. There was another song playing, more loudly, too aggressive and lively to rest sitting on the bed like before. I was like "You can't talk to this" and he was like "Yes, you are supposed to dance to this". He grabbed my hands and we danced. We did a badly executed twist and a even worse tango and digged up our forgotten dance class skills that were poor, tbh. But it was fun. :) And I liked being so close to him, because he smelled so freaking good that I could have died. 

I didn't die, though. And we went on dancing. It came to our minds, that the only thing that was truly missing in our superbe performance was a slow. So I put on the best emotional playlist I have in store

And that is where the movie part really kicks in: As we stand there, calmly swinging like we're on a ship, my head is so close to his heart that I can hear it racing like I was on the bike just an hour ago. I am grinning like an idiot and so is he. We both can't believe that we are in this moment right now. 
We kiss and it is like the top of it all, the perfection of all movie moments similar to this one, but this is real. Suddenly, it feels like all the movies are just copies, mimicked images of this moment, of this feeling that can never be as good as this. Right here. Right now. We smile. We kiss. We smile. We dance. "Lass mich nie mehr los" is on the list. And "Yesterday". We see ourselves reflected in the glass of the window, because it is dark outside. It feels like a lifetime since I was last held by a boy like this. 

He says that it's hard to get this, to cope with this. And: "What is missing for the perfect Hollywood ending is the camera drifting outside the window, away from us, through the darkness - but you can still see us dancing through the windowpane."

"And it's the only window lit in the whole area - so we're the only glowing dot in the dark."











The world is based on randomness. Love is the most random of all things. So love is the highest point of all randomness. And the most beautiful. - me











*and I don't even feel the slightest bit of bad quoting her - hopeless romantic I guess.