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Monday, 11 May 2015

MY WARSAW EXPRESS GAY DRAMA - WET



Warsaw, Poland – November 2006

After three weeks dating, Rico and I decided to go for a weekend somewhere and we picked up Warsaw as an easy and cheap destination. As Rico was out of cash, I paid the hotel, which we had found in the Internet and the train tickets out of my own pocket. At about 5am on a cold snowy November Friday Rico and I met at Ostbahnhof Station in East Berlin. The train left punctual and we managed to find very good seats with table in one of the front cars. When the train reached Szcezin in Poland I realized Rico was not the right guy for me. I had thought this trip would have given us the chance to get to know each other, however after 5 minutes the topics were over and Rico preferred the antisocial “I-will-read-my-book” way. Luckily I had bought myself a Polish for beginners book and I spent the time learning how to pronounce: “Przepraszam, jak sie pan nazywa?” The Polish for: “What is your name?”

We reached Warsaw in the early afternoon, we got off the train and decided to head for the hotel to get a shower and leave our luggage there. After half an hour of research we figured out that our bus stop was just in front of the train station. The bus was definitely none of the latest model of its kind. There were a couple of holes here and there on the floor, broken plastic cords were hanging from the metal bars to give the passengers something to hold to, during the turbulent drive. The hotel was a former Commie-block, converted into a cheap 0-stars hotel with broken windows, dirty dishes and uncomfortable single beds. Yes, it had been cheap and no, I won’t describe the bathroom. A couple of hours later, Rico and I were in Stare Miasto, the gorgeous city centre, with its colourful pretty townhouses, large squares, little roads and city wall. We drank hot beer and ate some Polish cakes in a cosy small café. At dinnertime Rico had a pizza, which he covered up with ketchup: Another sign he wasn’t done for an Italian boyfriend. I opted for “Bryzol Wieprzowy”, a Polish version of my “Cotoletta alla Milanese”. In the evening I decided it was the time to tell Rico, I wasn't’ up for a relationship with him. He agreed and admitted he had the same problem with me. I was rather surprised of the peaceful and boring way we broke up. Was I too Italian and unable to end up an affair without drama?

The day after we left Warsaw at about 4pm. The train was running fast through the Polish countryside, I was looking through the window and due to the darkening sky the image of Rico reading his book was reflecting more and more on the glass. Suddenly a Polish waiter interrupted the silence and asked us if we wanted to have some coffee. I paid one for Rico and the Polish man gave him a plastic mug and poured the brownish liquid into it. Eventually the train made a turn and Rico dropped some coffee onto his jeans. I could not avoid laughing as that scene was really funny, but my reaction was not appreciated. As soon as I kindly asked Rico if he wanted me to get him another coffee, he replied with a nasty NEIN!

As I felt he was too moody, I took my stuff and I left the seat heading for the restaurant car, where I spent about 2 hours having a beer alone. I was just thinking, how could one be such an arrogant twat when he sent me an SMS asking me where I was. I replied “I am in a stress-free place, let me know when you feel better”. He asked me to return at my seat and so I did. As soon as I was there, he asked me what was wrong and I explained him that I found his behaviour annoying. He defended himself, saying that he was angry because his jeans were dirty and I laughed about it. And so did come my Italian ending: I took a one-litre bottle of coke and poured it to the last drop all over my trousers. The Polish passengers could not believe their eyes. Then I returned to the restaurant car and I left Rico behind with these words: “I don’t think a pair of jeans should be more important than the feelings of another person.” I have never seen him again.


The week after, Daryl, my fifth ex-boyfriend, came to Berlin to visit.