07-10-2025, 02:55 PM
Shocked, I looked over at Andreas and I felt the anger rising up inside me. Anger directed against myself. How could he? How could I? I was totally distraught. ‘He knows. He knows everything,’ it shot through my mind. I couldn't believe it. Just once I hadn't paid attention, just once. What should I do now? What should I say? Andreas didn't seem to feel very comfortable either. Slowly I noticed how the strength that had given me some control in the last few seconds was fading, and I sat down in my chair, or let's say I fell into my chair. How could I be so careless? My big secret was no longer a secret.
How it all began
For 19 years, I had not wasted a single minute thinking that I might be gay. I had never used that term in my thoughts and when others talked about it, I always felt like they were talking about something I would never relate to in life. It was only today, when I consciously thought about it, that I realised that even earlier on I had always felt more for boys than for girls and that I had always looked at my classmates with great interest when we were in the shower after sports. Even the fact that I liked my best friend Sven much more than a normal friend would be liked, I simply didn't perceive. Maybe I didn't want to, at least I didn't consciously suppress it. I was just the way I was, and of course I would have vehemently denied that I was gay even back then, because I wasn't aware of it myself. I wasn't worried about the fact that I didn't have a girlfriend yet and never looked at girls because it didn't interest me at all. That will come someday – I thought. ‘I'm just a little late, but I'm not the only one, so what the heck.’
I had really made it 19 years without ever thinking about whether I was perhaps a little different than our religion teacher thought was good and only right. 19 years until that week, which I will never forget.
I had just spent 14 days doing civilian service in a home for the disabled when I received an invitation to spend 6 days in Berlin. ‘Invitation’ doesn't sound bad at first, and it was only in the last lines of the letter that it was mentioned that it was a seminar for all new civilian service providers and was not intended for recreation. Well, it doesn't matter, I don't have to pay for it after all, and it's a nice change.
In Berlin, I was staying in a nice double room and was just putting some things from my bag into the cupboard when suddenly HE stood in front of me.
‘Hi, I'm Markus. Are you here for this weird seminar too?"
I looked in the direction from which these words came and suddenly felt as if I had been struck by lightning. I stood there with my mouth open and must have looked very strange, because the sight of Markus had totally confused me. I had never met such a cute boy before and it was actually the first time that I consciously realised what a look from such a sweet guy could do to me, and that made me speechless for the moment. Of course, I hadn't thought of words like ‘sweet’ and ‘cute’ yet, I was just fascinated and didn't really know how to deal with this feeling. These eyes that looked at me so wonderfully had done it to me from the first moment. I don't even remember what I answered Markus, but I think I must have talked a lot of nonsense, because I was much too busy looking at him and listening to his beautiful calm voice.
From the first moment, there was something between us that bound us together. It was as if it had always been that way. Everything Markus said, everything he did, his movements, his gestures, I was simply addicted to it and couldn't get enough of it. He didn't make it difficult for me either, because he didn't leave my side for the entire six days. Whenever possible, he sought my company and already on the first day we tried to outdo each other in touching the other, even if only very briefly and as if by chance. With each of these very small approaches, even if it was only a very light brush against his body, I would have liked to scream out loud with happiness. It was a completely new but wonderful feeling.
It was the second evening. After dinner, we went to our room. We sat down on my bed and talked about the events of the day. We slid closer and closer together and Markus put his hand around me at some point. We had actually only talked about quite trivial things and without noticing, I suddenly found myself completely in Markus' arms. The last words of our conversation became quieter and quieter until it was almost a whisper. It was only when we were both silent for a moment that I really realised our situation and I was afraid that Markus might not feel our situation as beautiful as I did. I looked a little uncertainly into his eyes, but I could tell from his expression that he was enjoying it just as much as I was. His loving smile gave me a sense of security and I now dared to put my arms around him and pressed my cheek firmly against his to feel the warmth of his body all over. He stroked my body very gently and timidly with his hand and I felt his first kiss, as light as a gentle breeze. We lay down and just held each other. We tried to be as close to each other as possible. I closed my eyes and only sometimes, very carefully, did my fingertips check to make sure Markus was really there and that I wasn't just imagining it. We snuggled up close and I didn't perceive anything but the scent and warmth of his skin.
I had never heard someone say to me, ‘I have fallen in love with you,’ and it was the first time that I said it to someone and felt how much more these words can mean than when you hear or read them anywhere else. We lay like that until the next morning because neither of us wanted to let go of the other.
I don't need to mention that these five days with Markus were more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. As always when something is very beautiful, these days were over before we knew it. When I think of the moment we said goodbye in Berlin, my knees still get weak today. When I was alone again on the train to Frankfurt, I suddenly burst into tears. I don't think I've ever cried so much in one day as I did that afternoon. Markus lives near Bremen, I live in a small village near Heidelberg, and it was only on the journey back that I realised that I would have to go without the feelings that had overwhelmed me so much in the last few days and the wonderful hours with Markus for a long time.
At home, I slowly began to organise my impressions and although I had never kept a diary before, I tried to capture everything that had moved me in those moments on my PC. I had to read it over and over again to believe that I was writing about things that I had experienced myself.
If it hadn't been for the daily phone calls with Markus, I would have quickly dismissed it all as a beautiful but unreal dream.
Writing it down really did make it easier for me to understand these completely new feelings a little, and it was only when I had read my little story four or five times that it suddenly hit me: ‘I'm gay!!!’
Not once since I'd met Markus had I ever had this idea. We'd never even talked about it. What was the point? We loved each other, and what you call it doesn't matter, does it?
At that moment, I started to feel fear. Is this feeling that connects us perhaps really the ‘gayness’ that everyone talks about? I'm not gay. I just love a boy. That's certainly not gay, is it?
The thought wouldn't leave my head and as strange as it may sound, when I called Markus the next day, the first thing I asked him was this probably rather stupid question:
‘Markus, do you think we might be gay?"
To my surprise, he didn't have an immediate answer either and confessed that he had never thought about it so directly either.
During these days, my carefreeness of the last few years took its revenge. All the questions that a young gay man might ask himself over time suddenly came at me in a rush. I was panic-stricken and it was as if a veil had fallen from my soul that had protected me from these tormenting thoughts all this time.
How could I live with something like that? I suddenly felt as if I had been infected by something terrible. I hated this feeling and I loved it, after all, it had given me the most beautiful hours of my life.
I would have liked to talk to someone about it. With my mother or with my father, but you can't talk about something like that. I had tried several times, but at some point I couldn't get a word out when I wanted to start steering the topic in that direction. I was so afraid of the uncertainty that controlled me and of how it affected others.
I wrote all of this down – my fears – my desires – my hopes. A small disc suddenly became something to which I entrusted everything that was going on deep inside me.
And now
Andreas looked over at me:
"Please don't be angry with me. I didn't want that. I didn't know what it was.’
I wasn't angry with him. I was desperate. I had forgotten the disc in the PC and he had read everything. I couldn't even blame him for that, because I probably would have done the same. I think the whole family realised that something had happened to me and I think they were all very worried. So I can't blame my little brother for taking the chance when he could find out about the causes of my mood. He hadn't even consciously looked for it, because we both use the PC.
I felt exposed and ashamed. I'm the big brother, after all 3 years older. I have to be the strong, invulnerable one who knows the answer to every question. And now? Now Andreas knows that I am anything but strong. He knows that I'm afraid and that I'm tormented by a longing for something that he might find repulsive. How I would have liked to have had a real talk with him about it. But how could I explain something I didn't understand myself? Andreas now knew how much I missed Markus and how much I wanted to be with him. He knew that I wanted to tell our parents right away, but I just didn't dare.
Andreas looked at me and smiled:
‘If there's anything I can do to help, please tell me, okay?’
Now, if only I had known how someone could have helped me.
Over the next few days, I withdrew more and more into the world of my own uncertainty. How often did I hear the words: ‘What's wrong with you?’, ‘Do you have problems?’ or ‘Something's wrong with you.’ When I heard Markus's voice on the phone, all my doubts suddenly disappeared. As I heard his words, I felt his closeness again, which I had enjoyed so much, and when he told me how much he missed me, I was sad and happy at the same time.
Four weeks later
It was the 24th of December, shortly after 5pm. I was standing in my room at the window and looking down at the street. It had snowed heavily two days ago and everything was covered in a sparkling, clean white. It was already dark, of course, but even without streetlamps, the many illuminated trees in our neighbours' front gardens would have provided enough light. I liked the atmosphere. I had only lit a single candle in my room and was watching the people on the street. There was a lot of activity in our otherwise quiet neighbourhood. Grandmas and grandpas, with large bags of presents, were on their way to see their grandchildren, children were romping in the snow and many were on their way to our church, where the service began at 6 p.m.
My mother had come up with something very special for this year. She really wanted a Christmas Eve like the ones we had when we were kids, and of course that meant a Santa Claus. I wasn't keen on having to recite a poem for every present, but whatever my mother decided on was the law. Uncle Albert, who lives in the house next door and also used to play Santa Claus when Andreas and I were much younger, didn't take long to be persuaded and thought it was a fun idea.
But at that time I felt anything but ‘funny’. An hour ago Markus had called me and when I thought that I couldn't see him again before the beginning of February, I could have cried.
At the house opposite I saw Philipp ringing the doorbell. Philipp used to go to school with me and he had been going out with our neighbour's daughter for three months. Simone came out of the house and the two of them shared a long kiss. A beautiful sight full of tenderness, but at that moment it made me realise how lonely I felt. I sat down in my armchair, took my mobile phone and wrote Markus a text message: ‘I love you soooooooo much!!!!’ Not a minute later, my phone beeped: ‘I love you too!!! Miss you sooooo much!!!’
I stared at the display for quite a while and tried to imagine Markus sitting in his room typing this message. Does he really miss me as much as I miss him? ‘What is wrong with me?’ flashed through my mind. ‘It's Christmas. I should be happy,’ but in reality I was fighting back tears.
Ten minutes later, Andreas was standing in my room:
‘Are you coming? We want to eat."
At Christmas we always ate quite early, because presents were only given afterwards and in the past Andreas and I always made a lot of trouble because we couldn't wait. Today, of course, it's not nearly as spectacular. We don't have big, expensive gifts anyway, and actually everyone knows roughly what they're getting from the other person because we usually agree beforehand on what the other person really wants. Actually, it's a bit of a shame that not much of the importance Christmas used to have for me remains, and so the Santa thing might not have been such a bad idea after all.
Somehow, everyone was rather quiet at dinner that evening. I wasn't exactly in the mood to play the family entertainer anyway, but my dear little brother, who can hardly contain himself, was also unusually reserved and quiet. Everyone was so kind to me, or was it just particularly noticeable to me today? Of course, I wasn't a particularly good actor and it was certainly noticeable that I wasn't doing so well. It was a stupid situation, because I didn't really want them to worry about me.
"But now off to the living room. After all, I want to know what Santa Claus is bringing me,’
my father smiled.
A short time later, Uncle Albert was standing in the room in his old costume, playing his role as convincingly as ever, and there were a few surprises for one person or another. The only thing I missed was a CD I had wished for.
Uncle Albert said goodbye in his deep, rumbling voice and made his way back to the forest, or should we say to the neighbour's house.
For the next 10 minutes, everyone was busy inspecting their new acquisitions and thanking the others for them.
‘Isn't there something missing from your side?’ Andreas suddenly asked me.
Well, what should I say? It would be quite impolite to complain about the missing CD, because otherwise I was more than happy with my gifts. So I asked hypocritically:
‘What else should I be missing?’
‘Maybe the dance sampler you wanted?’ my brother grinned.
‘Is something still missing?’ my mother asked, and I just shrugged my shoulders.
‘Well, if you don't have everything yet, then we should call Santa again, Andreas, and check on him,’ my father interjected.
Andreas disappeared into the hallway and a short time later he actually came back with “our” Santa, who handed me a small package. Somewhat awkwardly, I opened it and it was really the CD I wanted.
‘Well, if everything is all right, then we can invite our Santa for a mulled wine to say thank you, can't we?‘
’Of course,‘ everyone agreed.
’Great,’ my mother nudged me, ’why don't you help him take off the mask?’
The beard, face mask and cap were all in one piece and it was not at all easy to remove the strap. When I had the mask in my hand, I was about to complain about this tricky task, but I was immediately struck dumb when I saw who was behind the mask.
‘M a r k u s,’ I stammered very quietly and suddenly felt very hot. My heart began to beat loudly and violently and I couldn't believe what I saw in front of me. Markus was standing there, looking cheekily into my face with his lovely smile. This couldn't be. How could he have possibly come here? It didn't seem to be a big surprise for the others, because they all looked at me expectantly.
My father was the first to speak again:
"Do you not want to greet our guest, or don't you know him?’
‘Markus,’ I said louder and took him in my arms.
So many thoughts were running through my mind that I didn't even dare to kiss him. How did he get here? What do my parents know about him? Markus seemed to feel much safer than I did, he gave me a kiss and his grin grew even wider:
‘Do you perhaps have a few questions?"
And of course I did, but luckily everyone wanted to tell their story and sometimes two or three spoke at once. My parents had been pestering Andreas for the last three weeks and really wanted to know from him what was going on with me, because he had unfortunately let slip once and said that he knew. Since Andreas also knew that I had wanted to talk to my parents about Markus, he told them, after much deliberation, what the reason for my bad mood was. Then they all thought about how they could best show me that they absolutely wanted to support me, and at some point they came up with the idea of the double Santa Claus. Of course, that was anything but easy. Andreas had to spy Markus's mobile number out of my phone and my mother then called Markus. She didn't have to persuade him for long, but there were Markus' parents, who also wanted an explanation as to why their son was not at home on Christmas Eve. The trip had to be planned and tickets had to be purchased. Markus had to be picked up from the train and hidden the whole afternoon. Of course, the quick costume change in the hallway had to work so that the surprise was perfect.
I couldn't believe it. I was sitting next to my boyfriend on Christmas Eve with my family. I had my arm around his shoulder and everyone knew that Markus was not just any buddy, but meant much more to me. I was insanely happy. Would it have been that easy? As if he had heard this question, my father said:
‘I couldn't sleep for a few nights when I found out that my son had a boyfriend he loved, but when I see your shining eyes and your radiant look, which I have missed so much lately, I know that our decision was right. For this reason, there is another gift for you here.‘
’Another gift?’ I asked in disbelief.
My father gave me an envelope containing a train ticket for 2 people to Bremen. In response to my questioning look, my mother said:
"Well, we had to promise Markus's parents that we would let you go for a few days if we were going to kidnap their son on 24 December. So you're going to Markus's the day after tomorrow and I think he's planned a nice New Year's Eve party for you.’
What could I say? It was all planned out until my retirement, and so well that I couldn't have wished for anything better. As desperate as I sometimes was in the last few days, I was all the happier at that moment.
Of course, my parents wanted to know quite a bit about Markus, and when I went to the kitchen to get a few more cups of mulled wine, Andreas followed me.
‘I hope you're not angry with me. I mean, because I told mum and dad."
Of course I wasn't, quite the opposite. I hadn't felt as good as I do right now for a long time, because my parents knew and, of course, because Markus was with me. So why should I be angry with Andreas and think about how it could have turned out differently, I didn't want to now.
It was very late when Markus and I went to my room. I lit the candle and looked out of the window again. Philipp was taking Simone home and kissed her goodbye. I was happy for him. Markus came to me, put his head on my shoulder and I took him gently in my arms.
Finally. Finally, this feeling again.
How it all began
For 19 years, I had not wasted a single minute thinking that I might be gay. I had never used that term in my thoughts and when others talked about it, I always felt like they were talking about something I would never relate to in life. It was only today, when I consciously thought about it, that I realised that even earlier on I had always felt more for boys than for girls and that I had always looked at my classmates with great interest when we were in the shower after sports. Even the fact that I liked my best friend Sven much more than a normal friend would be liked, I simply didn't perceive. Maybe I didn't want to, at least I didn't consciously suppress it. I was just the way I was, and of course I would have vehemently denied that I was gay even back then, because I wasn't aware of it myself. I wasn't worried about the fact that I didn't have a girlfriend yet and never looked at girls because it didn't interest me at all. That will come someday – I thought. ‘I'm just a little late, but I'm not the only one, so what the heck.’
I had really made it 19 years without ever thinking about whether I was perhaps a little different than our religion teacher thought was good and only right. 19 years until that week, which I will never forget.
I had just spent 14 days doing civilian service in a home for the disabled when I received an invitation to spend 6 days in Berlin. ‘Invitation’ doesn't sound bad at first, and it was only in the last lines of the letter that it was mentioned that it was a seminar for all new civilian service providers and was not intended for recreation. Well, it doesn't matter, I don't have to pay for it after all, and it's a nice change.
In Berlin, I was staying in a nice double room and was just putting some things from my bag into the cupboard when suddenly HE stood in front of me.
‘Hi, I'm Markus. Are you here for this weird seminar too?"
I looked in the direction from which these words came and suddenly felt as if I had been struck by lightning. I stood there with my mouth open and must have looked very strange, because the sight of Markus had totally confused me. I had never met such a cute boy before and it was actually the first time that I consciously realised what a look from such a sweet guy could do to me, and that made me speechless for the moment. Of course, I hadn't thought of words like ‘sweet’ and ‘cute’ yet, I was just fascinated and didn't really know how to deal with this feeling. These eyes that looked at me so wonderfully had done it to me from the first moment. I don't even remember what I answered Markus, but I think I must have talked a lot of nonsense, because I was much too busy looking at him and listening to his beautiful calm voice.
From the first moment, there was something between us that bound us together. It was as if it had always been that way. Everything Markus said, everything he did, his movements, his gestures, I was simply addicted to it and couldn't get enough of it. He didn't make it difficult for me either, because he didn't leave my side for the entire six days. Whenever possible, he sought my company and already on the first day we tried to outdo each other in touching the other, even if only very briefly and as if by chance. With each of these very small approaches, even if it was only a very light brush against his body, I would have liked to scream out loud with happiness. It was a completely new but wonderful feeling.
It was the second evening. After dinner, we went to our room. We sat down on my bed and talked about the events of the day. We slid closer and closer together and Markus put his hand around me at some point. We had actually only talked about quite trivial things and without noticing, I suddenly found myself completely in Markus' arms. The last words of our conversation became quieter and quieter until it was almost a whisper. It was only when we were both silent for a moment that I really realised our situation and I was afraid that Markus might not feel our situation as beautiful as I did. I looked a little uncertainly into his eyes, but I could tell from his expression that he was enjoying it just as much as I was. His loving smile gave me a sense of security and I now dared to put my arms around him and pressed my cheek firmly against his to feel the warmth of his body all over. He stroked my body very gently and timidly with his hand and I felt his first kiss, as light as a gentle breeze. We lay down and just held each other. We tried to be as close to each other as possible. I closed my eyes and only sometimes, very carefully, did my fingertips check to make sure Markus was really there and that I wasn't just imagining it. We snuggled up close and I didn't perceive anything but the scent and warmth of his skin.
I had never heard someone say to me, ‘I have fallen in love with you,’ and it was the first time that I said it to someone and felt how much more these words can mean than when you hear or read them anywhere else. We lay like that until the next morning because neither of us wanted to let go of the other.
I don't need to mention that these five days with Markus were more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. As always when something is very beautiful, these days were over before we knew it. When I think of the moment we said goodbye in Berlin, my knees still get weak today. When I was alone again on the train to Frankfurt, I suddenly burst into tears. I don't think I've ever cried so much in one day as I did that afternoon. Markus lives near Bremen, I live in a small village near Heidelberg, and it was only on the journey back that I realised that I would have to go without the feelings that had overwhelmed me so much in the last few days and the wonderful hours with Markus for a long time.
At home, I slowly began to organise my impressions and although I had never kept a diary before, I tried to capture everything that had moved me in those moments on my PC. I had to read it over and over again to believe that I was writing about things that I had experienced myself.
If it hadn't been for the daily phone calls with Markus, I would have quickly dismissed it all as a beautiful but unreal dream.
Writing it down really did make it easier for me to understand these completely new feelings a little, and it was only when I had read my little story four or five times that it suddenly hit me: ‘I'm gay!!!’
Not once since I'd met Markus had I ever had this idea. We'd never even talked about it. What was the point? We loved each other, and what you call it doesn't matter, does it?
At that moment, I started to feel fear. Is this feeling that connects us perhaps really the ‘gayness’ that everyone talks about? I'm not gay. I just love a boy. That's certainly not gay, is it?
The thought wouldn't leave my head and as strange as it may sound, when I called Markus the next day, the first thing I asked him was this probably rather stupid question:
‘Markus, do you think we might be gay?"
To my surprise, he didn't have an immediate answer either and confessed that he had never thought about it so directly either.
During these days, my carefreeness of the last few years took its revenge. All the questions that a young gay man might ask himself over time suddenly came at me in a rush. I was panic-stricken and it was as if a veil had fallen from my soul that had protected me from these tormenting thoughts all this time.
How could I live with something like that? I suddenly felt as if I had been infected by something terrible. I hated this feeling and I loved it, after all, it had given me the most beautiful hours of my life.
I would have liked to talk to someone about it. With my mother or with my father, but you can't talk about something like that. I had tried several times, but at some point I couldn't get a word out when I wanted to start steering the topic in that direction. I was so afraid of the uncertainty that controlled me and of how it affected others.
I wrote all of this down – my fears – my desires – my hopes. A small disc suddenly became something to which I entrusted everything that was going on deep inside me.
And now
Andreas looked over at me:
"Please don't be angry with me. I didn't want that. I didn't know what it was.’
I wasn't angry with him. I was desperate. I had forgotten the disc in the PC and he had read everything. I couldn't even blame him for that, because I probably would have done the same. I think the whole family realised that something had happened to me and I think they were all very worried. So I can't blame my little brother for taking the chance when he could find out about the causes of my mood. He hadn't even consciously looked for it, because we both use the PC.
I felt exposed and ashamed. I'm the big brother, after all 3 years older. I have to be the strong, invulnerable one who knows the answer to every question. And now? Now Andreas knows that I am anything but strong. He knows that I'm afraid and that I'm tormented by a longing for something that he might find repulsive. How I would have liked to have had a real talk with him about it. But how could I explain something I didn't understand myself? Andreas now knew how much I missed Markus and how much I wanted to be with him. He knew that I wanted to tell our parents right away, but I just didn't dare.
Andreas looked at me and smiled:
‘If there's anything I can do to help, please tell me, okay?’
Now, if only I had known how someone could have helped me.
Over the next few days, I withdrew more and more into the world of my own uncertainty. How often did I hear the words: ‘What's wrong with you?’, ‘Do you have problems?’ or ‘Something's wrong with you.’ When I heard Markus's voice on the phone, all my doubts suddenly disappeared. As I heard his words, I felt his closeness again, which I had enjoyed so much, and when he told me how much he missed me, I was sad and happy at the same time.
Four weeks later
It was the 24th of December, shortly after 5pm. I was standing in my room at the window and looking down at the street. It had snowed heavily two days ago and everything was covered in a sparkling, clean white. It was already dark, of course, but even without streetlamps, the many illuminated trees in our neighbours' front gardens would have provided enough light. I liked the atmosphere. I had only lit a single candle in my room and was watching the people on the street. There was a lot of activity in our otherwise quiet neighbourhood. Grandmas and grandpas, with large bags of presents, were on their way to see their grandchildren, children were romping in the snow and many were on their way to our church, where the service began at 6 p.m.
My mother had come up with something very special for this year. She really wanted a Christmas Eve like the ones we had when we were kids, and of course that meant a Santa Claus. I wasn't keen on having to recite a poem for every present, but whatever my mother decided on was the law. Uncle Albert, who lives in the house next door and also used to play Santa Claus when Andreas and I were much younger, didn't take long to be persuaded and thought it was a fun idea.
But at that time I felt anything but ‘funny’. An hour ago Markus had called me and when I thought that I couldn't see him again before the beginning of February, I could have cried.
At the house opposite I saw Philipp ringing the doorbell. Philipp used to go to school with me and he had been going out with our neighbour's daughter for three months. Simone came out of the house and the two of them shared a long kiss. A beautiful sight full of tenderness, but at that moment it made me realise how lonely I felt. I sat down in my armchair, took my mobile phone and wrote Markus a text message: ‘I love you soooooooo much!!!!’ Not a minute later, my phone beeped: ‘I love you too!!! Miss you sooooo much!!!’
I stared at the display for quite a while and tried to imagine Markus sitting in his room typing this message. Does he really miss me as much as I miss him? ‘What is wrong with me?’ flashed through my mind. ‘It's Christmas. I should be happy,’ but in reality I was fighting back tears.
Ten minutes later, Andreas was standing in my room:
‘Are you coming? We want to eat."
At Christmas we always ate quite early, because presents were only given afterwards and in the past Andreas and I always made a lot of trouble because we couldn't wait. Today, of course, it's not nearly as spectacular. We don't have big, expensive gifts anyway, and actually everyone knows roughly what they're getting from the other person because we usually agree beforehand on what the other person really wants. Actually, it's a bit of a shame that not much of the importance Christmas used to have for me remains, and so the Santa thing might not have been such a bad idea after all.
Somehow, everyone was rather quiet at dinner that evening. I wasn't exactly in the mood to play the family entertainer anyway, but my dear little brother, who can hardly contain himself, was also unusually reserved and quiet. Everyone was so kind to me, or was it just particularly noticeable to me today? Of course, I wasn't a particularly good actor and it was certainly noticeable that I wasn't doing so well. It was a stupid situation, because I didn't really want them to worry about me.
"But now off to the living room. After all, I want to know what Santa Claus is bringing me,’
my father smiled.
A short time later, Uncle Albert was standing in the room in his old costume, playing his role as convincingly as ever, and there were a few surprises for one person or another. The only thing I missed was a CD I had wished for.
Uncle Albert said goodbye in his deep, rumbling voice and made his way back to the forest, or should we say to the neighbour's house.
For the next 10 minutes, everyone was busy inspecting their new acquisitions and thanking the others for them.
‘Isn't there something missing from your side?’ Andreas suddenly asked me.
Well, what should I say? It would be quite impolite to complain about the missing CD, because otherwise I was more than happy with my gifts. So I asked hypocritically:
‘What else should I be missing?’
‘Maybe the dance sampler you wanted?’ my brother grinned.
‘Is something still missing?’ my mother asked, and I just shrugged my shoulders.
‘Well, if you don't have everything yet, then we should call Santa again, Andreas, and check on him,’ my father interjected.
Andreas disappeared into the hallway and a short time later he actually came back with “our” Santa, who handed me a small package. Somewhat awkwardly, I opened it and it was really the CD I wanted.
‘Well, if everything is all right, then we can invite our Santa for a mulled wine to say thank you, can't we?‘
’Of course,‘ everyone agreed.
’Great,’ my mother nudged me, ’why don't you help him take off the mask?’
The beard, face mask and cap were all in one piece and it was not at all easy to remove the strap. When I had the mask in my hand, I was about to complain about this tricky task, but I was immediately struck dumb when I saw who was behind the mask.
‘M a r k u s,’ I stammered very quietly and suddenly felt very hot. My heart began to beat loudly and violently and I couldn't believe what I saw in front of me. Markus was standing there, looking cheekily into my face with his lovely smile. This couldn't be. How could he have possibly come here? It didn't seem to be a big surprise for the others, because they all looked at me expectantly.
My father was the first to speak again:
"Do you not want to greet our guest, or don't you know him?’
‘Markus,’ I said louder and took him in my arms.
So many thoughts were running through my mind that I didn't even dare to kiss him. How did he get here? What do my parents know about him? Markus seemed to feel much safer than I did, he gave me a kiss and his grin grew even wider:
‘Do you perhaps have a few questions?"
And of course I did, but luckily everyone wanted to tell their story and sometimes two or three spoke at once. My parents had been pestering Andreas for the last three weeks and really wanted to know from him what was going on with me, because he had unfortunately let slip once and said that he knew. Since Andreas also knew that I had wanted to talk to my parents about Markus, he told them, after much deliberation, what the reason for my bad mood was. Then they all thought about how they could best show me that they absolutely wanted to support me, and at some point they came up with the idea of the double Santa Claus. Of course, that was anything but easy. Andreas had to spy Markus's mobile number out of my phone and my mother then called Markus. She didn't have to persuade him for long, but there were Markus' parents, who also wanted an explanation as to why their son was not at home on Christmas Eve. The trip had to be planned and tickets had to be purchased. Markus had to be picked up from the train and hidden the whole afternoon. Of course, the quick costume change in the hallway had to work so that the surprise was perfect.
I couldn't believe it. I was sitting next to my boyfriend on Christmas Eve with my family. I had my arm around his shoulder and everyone knew that Markus was not just any buddy, but meant much more to me. I was insanely happy. Would it have been that easy? As if he had heard this question, my father said:
‘I couldn't sleep for a few nights when I found out that my son had a boyfriend he loved, but when I see your shining eyes and your radiant look, which I have missed so much lately, I know that our decision was right. For this reason, there is another gift for you here.‘
’Another gift?’ I asked in disbelief.
My father gave me an envelope containing a train ticket for 2 people to Bremen. In response to my questioning look, my mother said:
"Well, we had to promise Markus's parents that we would let you go for a few days if we were going to kidnap their son on 24 December. So you're going to Markus's the day after tomorrow and I think he's planned a nice New Year's Eve party for you.’
What could I say? It was all planned out until my retirement, and so well that I couldn't have wished for anything better. As desperate as I sometimes was in the last few days, I was all the happier at that moment.
Of course, my parents wanted to know quite a bit about Markus, and when I went to the kitchen to get a few more cups of mulled wine, Andreas followed me.
‘I hope you're not angry with me. I mean, because I told mum and dad."
Of course I wasn't, quite the opposite. I hadn't felt as good as I do right now for a long time, because my parents knew and, of course, because Markus was with me. So why should I be angry with Andreas and think about how it could have turned out differently, I didn't want to now.
It was very late when Markus and I went to my room. I lit the candle and looked out of the window again. Philipp was taking Simone home and kissed her goodbye. I was happy for him. Markus came to me, put his head on my shoulder and I took him gently in my arms.
Finally. Finally, this feeling again.