Once again, I sat there in the garden on the board by the fence that my grandfather had actually cut from wood for himself. He could no longer walk properly, so he often sat here to rest.
I looked into the garden, observing the trees, the green grass that had been freshly mowed the day before. I was alone with my thoughts. I reflected, let the sun's rays warm me, and sometimes, I cried there...
It wasn't easy. When I was 8 years old, my parents brought me to my grandparents in Slovenia. For me, it was rather a foreign country, as I had only known the city of Mannheim in Germany, where I was born and played with the children in kindergarten. The main reason I was left with my grandparents was that I was supposed to go to school here in Slovenia.
No question, it was very difficult at first without my parents. But I quickly grew fond of my grandparents, and there were also children in the village with whom I could play. After a few weeks, I also got to know the remote places in the village, which were usually more interesting than the church in the village. And there was so much to explore. The forests, the large meadows and clearings in the woods, the small river in the valley—all of that fascinated me much more all of a sudden.
Months and years passed. I went to school, just like the other children from the village. But one thing set me apart from the others. I was raised by my grandparents.
When I was 13, I noticed it. I was different from the other boys. I was in the 7th grade, in class 7a. Not that I was a nerd, but I didn't care about football. The boys in my class had only one thing on their minds—football. They played during breaks, free periods, and after school. I felt out of place there.
I was interested in something completely different. I was always with the girls: Tea, Anita, Marie, Denise, and Nadine. It all started in the 3rd grade with a small play. In the following years, we did puppet theater. But it only became really fun when we performed real theater and had a director.
Tea and Anita were the best friends. They were inseparable. They lived not far from each other, so they often walked home from school together. Everyone could make the walk in a quarter of an hour, but they couldn't even manage it in an hour.
Marie was our top student. But she always seemed to have bad luck. Once, the whole class went skiing, and she broke her right leg right at the beginning. I think we had seen almost all her body parts in a cast.
Denise and Nadine also couldn't relate to our football boys. They preferred to hang out with the boys, Simon and Mark, from the parallel class 7b.
One day before Christmas, each class was allowed to organize its own party in the classroom. So we decorated our classroom, our math/physics room. The other classes did the same. In the school competition for the best-decorated classroom, we were worse than the others, and the winner was the parallel class 7b.
"Of course, they would win with their silver stars," Marie was disappointed, as her white stars didn't impress the jury.
"Oh come on. The idea with the long paper and fabric strips is what made them win," Denise tried to comfort her.
A little later, it was already time for most of the class to go home on the school bus at 1 PM. Only Tea, Anita, Marie, Denise, Nadine, and I stayed. We turned up the music, and the Christmas party could begin...
The teachers also started their own party in the conference room since most of the students were already out of school.
"Hi Mark, hi Simon, nice to see you here," Denise was happy. Nadine's smile was also hard to miss.
"Everyone's already gone with us," Simon said.
"Let's dance..." Denise grabbed Mark.
You could also see that Marie's bad mood disappeared in an instant. Everyone helped to move the tables a bit aside to create a larger dance floor. We all danced wildly... Good thing Nadine had all her tapes with her. She was the most eager one in collecting hits that were always playing on the radio and diligently recording them.
Don't be surprised, but in 1988, we kids didn't have CDs yet. We all had cassette players and were proud if we could own our own Walkman.
We danced to Madonna's "Like a Prayer" and were enchanted by the music from the movies "Dirty Dancing" and "Flashdance." We danced closer and closer, our bodies touching, just like we knew it from the movie "Dirty Dancing."
After a while, I went to the table with the drinks. I took my glass, and Mark followed me.
"Sascha, what are you drinking?" Mark asked me.
"Coke with Fanta," I replied, looking him in the eyes.
Our eyes met, and for a few seconds, we looked at each other.
It was as if we were hypnotized. At first, our faces were very serious, and then suddenly, we both smiled. He was a bit taller than me, had brown eyes, and short blonde hair with a few curls.
He took a sip from his Coke glass, turned around, and went to the dance floor, where the girls were just singing Madonna's "Like a Prayer" for the third time, waving their hands in the air.
I watched him leave. Why am I looking at him, I asked myself, but didn’t think any further. I was completely beside myself.
“Come on, Sascha,” Nadine swung briefly to me in rhythm with the music, took my arm, and pulled me back to the others.
Time passed like a blur. We completely forgot about time, soon it was 5 PM and dark outside. We realized the teachers had completely forgotten about us. We cleared away the drinks and our glasses, turned off the music, took our things, and silently fled from the school.
We said our goodbyes. First the girls. Then…
“Mark,” I said goodbye to Mark.
“Sascha,” Mark said quietly, and we hugged. The hug lasted a bit longer than with the other boys.
At home that same evening, a day before Christmas, I thought about Mark. I fell asleep immediately and dreamed of him.
The next day, I was expecting my parents from Germany. I looked out the window and it was snowing heavily. I was all excited all day, wondering when my parents would finally arrive. Grandma tried to distract me, but she couldn’t. It was only when the neighbor’s daughter, Meike, who was a year younger than me, knocked on the door that my mood suddenly changed.
“Good day. Can Sascha come out?” was her question.
“Of course,” Grandma said with a smile on her face.
And I was out of the house in no time.
Meike was in the 6th grade, so one grade below me. She was very curious about why I had come home so late the day before.
“Sascha. What did you do at school yesterday?” she asked.
I laughed: “We celebrated.”
So I told her what we had done, who was there. Of course, I didn’t mention anything about what had happened between Mark and me. However, thoughts of him kept running through my mind.
“Shall we go to the big fir tree?” she suggested. To my relief, otherwise she would have noticed that there was something more at the Christmas party at school. She was kind of my best friend and could read everything from my face.
When we arrived at the big fir tree, to the right of the church on the highest slope in the village, we stopped. It was where we occasionally lit a campfire in the summer since it was somewhat away from the houses in the village. And if my parents came, we would see the car in the distance.
“Your parents are coming today, right?” she asked to start a conversation. Although she knew my parents would come that day.
“Yes,” I answered her briefly.
“Aren’t you excited?” she looked me in the eyes.
“I am.” - In the meantime, I picked up the freshly fallen snow and tried to form a snowball: “It’s working pretty well.” I moved a little away from her and tried to hit the big fir tree in front of us.
“Missed!” Meike shouted and began to laugh at me.
We both tried to hit the big fir tree. After the third throw, I managed to hit the tree. Meike hit it on her first try.
“You cheated. You’re much closer than I am,” I accused her.
She laughed: “Party pooper!”
I didn’t want to dwell on it any longer. It felt too silly at that moment. Normally, I wouldn’t let her get away with that. But my gaze kept wandering back to the road…
“Here come my parents!” I shouted to Meike and pointed my finger towards the car. I was visibly happy and ran back to the village while Meike ran after me.
As always, I was happy that my parents were back with me. I was still not really glad, though. I knew they would soon be leaving again. But being together with family, parents, and grandparents at Christmas is the best. We also celebrated on New Year’s Eve…
After two weeks, they drove back to Germany. I hated the goodbye. It was especially hard for me. And when they left, there was no stopping it, I cried.
The next day was Monday, and I had to go back to school. And when I got up in the morning, it was snowing again. Why did it always snow when we had to go back to school? But even at school, things changed again.
The large school hall, where school festivals were celebrated, was no longer empty as usual. This time, four table tennis tables were set up, and the principal spoke to us with New Year’s wishes. Thus, classes began joyfully in the new year. Playing table tennis was a good change during breaks and free periods.
Then someone surprised me from behind.
“Hi Sascha. Shall we play table tennis together during the big break?” came from Mark.
“Yeah, sure,” I replied, quite surprised and a bit confused. I turned my gaze to him and saw his smile.
We had math for the first two hours with our class teacher. After that, biology with Mrs. Hölein. I could never quite gauge her, even though she was always friendly towards me and I could always answer her questions. Maybe I was just a little afraid of her because she seemed a bit older and strict. This hour also passed, and the bell rang for the big break.
I already saw Mark waiting at one of the table tennis tables. I quickly placed my bag down and picked up the table tennis paddle that was on the table. Other students were also gathering around the table tennis tables and watching us. I was a bit nervous, but I could see that Mark felt the same way.
With the game, we became more relaxed. Simon was there too and counted for us. The game was quite balanced, but I was leading when we switched sides.
"You’re good," Mark whispered to me as he passed by.
"You’re not bad either," I replied.
The game continued. And our spectators were excited about our match. Some from my class were also standing at the sidelines watching the game.
"Give it to him, Sascha. You can do it!" one of the teammates shouted.
I glanced quickly to see who it was and already made a mistake. It was tied again, and there were still three points to win or go into overtime. I pulled myself together. I could handle it.
"Great game," came a voice from the side.
Mark approached me and shook my hand: "You played better. And the better one wins. Isn’t that right?" and looked me in the eyes.
"I enjoyed playing with you, Mark. Maybe again another time?" I invited him to the next game.
"Sure," Mark said happily.
The table tennis tables in the large hall were well received by the students.
For the next three months, I played table tennis with Mark several more times. And again and again, I felt that strange feeling. I looked at him, gazed into his eyes. I examined him from head to toe. I liked him more and more.
The Easter holidays were approaching, and then we wouldn’t see each other for a while. A bit sadly, the last school day before the holidays came.
"What are you doing during the holidays?" Mark asked me.
"Nothing," I replied briefly. "And you?"
"I’m meeting Simon. Maybe we can play basketball on the schoolyard," he said.
"Great," I was happy for him and wanted to end the conversation quickly: "Mark, we’ll see each other again after the holidays," I said sadly.
"Okay, Sascha. See you then," we said goodbye without hugging, without a handshake.
The Easter holidays went by quickly.
On the first school day, then came the surprise. The table tennis tables had been removed from the large hall. But we all had to accept that. It had become much warmer outside, and during breaks, the boys from my class gathered as usual on the soccer field.
And I saw Mark playing basketball with Simon.

The way to school. I had been taking the bus for two years. Five times a week. Day in, day out. Always the same procedure. Getting on and looking for my seat at the back of the bus, plugging in the iPod and then immersing myself in my music. Now just switch off for 30 minutes, so that I can then concentrate for seven hours at school. That may sound as if I'm looking forward to school, but I'm just like everyone else. Getting up in the middle of the night feels like it, then half-asleep on the way to school, hoping that you can catch up on the hours of sleep you've missed.

I don't know when I first saw him. It was definitely just after the summer vacation. He got on MY bus about halfway to school. My heart stopped. Really cool with Ray-Ban sunglasses. Casually holding out the monthly ticket to the bus driver. After scanning the other passengers, he pushed the aforementioned sunglasses up into his shoulder-length blonde, curly hair and then walked straight towards me. I felt both cold and hot at the same time. I hadn't been listening to my music for a long time. I was electrified. I wanted to look away so as not to embarrass myself here. But somehow he captivated me. He came closer and closer, stopped just in front of me and sat down in the empty seat in front of me. Then he rummaged in his shoulder bag to pull out some kind of document. He began to study it extensively. I couldn't take my eyes off him. His black jeans were hanging at half-mast, actually I didn't like this fashion. But with him it looked just perfect. Was it because I got to see his retro shorts just before he sat down? Dark blue with light, fine horizontal stripes. These stripes emphasized his well-formed butt. I would have liked to have spontaneously grabbed it. Now I was sure that I was gay. This sight was definitely 1000x better than any dressed up 'tits décolleté' of my many female classmates, who probably wore it like an application according to the motto 'take me'.

He scratched his chin while reading the letter. From my point of view, I could admire his smooth and spotless skin. And those well-formed ears were to bite into. Not really bite, but nibble and trace the beautiful shape with the tongue. I didn't even notice that my iPod was no longer making a sound. Battery dead. Anyway, who needs a battery in such a situation? I almost missed my stop to get off. It was with a heavy heart that I got up, walked to the exit, not without taking a deep breath to absorb its lovely smell. I didn't dare to turn around again when I got off. And just like that, it was all over. I stood at the bus stop for a long time, looking after the bus. If only I hadn't been so cowardly...

At school, I thought only of him. Would he take this bus every day? I thought about the next school day, or rather the bus ride before the next school day, with mixed feelings. In the evening before going to bed, I stood in front of my wardrobe trying to decide what to wear tomorrow. Until now, my mom has done that for me. But suddenly I had grown up and was thinking hard about what to wear. Should I shower before going to bed or is it better in the morning, even if the already too short time would be even shorter then? I decided on in the morning and set my alarm clock 20 minutes earlier just to make sure not to miss the bus. I think I'm going crazy right now. There I was, lying in bed, unable to fall asleep because I was imagining that he would hopefully get on the bus again tomorrow. He would then approach me purposefully, to show me his most beautiful smile and sit down next to me...

At some point I must have fallen asleep after all. The alarm clock rings and I snap at it. Then I saw his face. No, not the alarm clock's face, although I still have a really old one with a grinning moon face on it. I saw him getting on the bus. Startled, I jumped out of bed, grabbed the clothes I had laid out the day before and stormed towards the bathroom. My sister's door opened and she looked at me as if I were a burglar (my sister, not the door). Then she asked me if I was sick. Without an answer, I stumbled into the bathroom and locked the door behind me. I took a long shower and then applied sunscreen. I had borrowed the cream from my stupid sister. I smiled mischievously into the still slightly steamed up mirror. Oh God, I look stupid. I definitely need a cool pair of sunglasses like that. The banging on the bathroom door startled me out of my grimace show. Something like idiot she called me, my stupid sister. I quickly got dressed to leave the bathroom. Oops, that look from her could have killed me. She stood close to me and asked me, breathing deeply, if that was her expensive cream she smelled on me. I just looked at her bored, turned around and stomped into my room. Only 30 minutes left for the bus. Quickly got into the rest of my clothes and headed towards the kitchen, where it already smelled of coffee. My cocoa and the obligatory Nutella sandwich were not yet in place when I entered the kitchen. Startled, my mother turned around. To her stupid question of what I wanted here so early, I replied, slightly stressed, that I had lived here for 15 years. Stunned by my early appearance, my mother now hectically made me my bread and the much-needed cocoa. I stuffed the bread into my mouth as best I could in one piece. I wanted to wash it down with the cocoa, but it was too hot. Ouch! It's usually only lukewarm, I complained to my mother. She just replied, 'No, son, otherwise you'll come to the kitchen so late that it'll be cold again'. I was just about to leave for the bus when suddenly my sister stood in the doorway and held the empty tube of cream in front of my face. “What do you think it costs?” she asked me. “Money, probably, or what else do you usually pay with?” was my reply. She was about to get angry when my mother shouted in between. I took advantage of this situation to quickly grab my school bag and disappear. Outside, the sun was already shining. I took a deep breath and ran to the bus. At the bus stop, I looked at my watch and saw that I still had over 10 minutes to spare. Normally, I reach the bus totally rushed or only see the tail lights. Can be 10 minutes long.

Finally on the bus, I sat down as I do every morning and turned on my recharged iPod. Excitedly, I chewed on my fingernails and couldn't wait for the bus to arrive at the stop where this guy had picked up my angel yesterday. As the bus approached the stop in question, I could already see him, again with sunglasses on his nose. Like yesterday, he scanned the bus as he boarded and sat down in the same seat again, to my delight. Here I could secretly gaze at him again. He took a book out of his bag. The same math book as I used in this school year. So he must be my age. He went to a different school though, otherwise he would get off at the same stop as me. Today he was wearing a different pair of black and white checkered underpants. Would I soon get to see all of his underpants? I watched him, engrossed in his schoolbook. He kept running his hand through his hair to tame it a little. However, they kept falling back into his beautiful angelic face. He had a cute snub nose and it twitched from time to time like a rabbit's. Unfortunately, the bus arrived at my school way too quickly. In my thoughts, I said goodbye to him with a 'see you tomorrow' and got off the bus. Again, I watched the bus for a long time.

So one day passed after another. He had a large selection of sexy-looking underpants. His jeans were all similarly cut. He also had a good selection of hoodies in different colors, and on top of that, his black leather jacket. Every piece of clothing looked great on him. I noticed that I was looking for the same underpants when I went shopping with my mother. Had I gone unnoticed and become a retro shorts fetishist without realizing it? My mother just said that I used to be very embarrassed when we looked for underwear for me.

I noticed how this boy crept more and more into my thoughts. I even dreamed about him from time to time.

He always stood in front of me with his sunglasses, slowly pushed them down to the tip of his nose, looked at me with his beautiful ocean-blue eyes, winked at me, and then pushed these cool glasses back up with his index finger. He asked me out...

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.

I am happy.
Berlin, trains and buses
A Monday in September, no, a super important Monday in September. That stupid tram is not running today of all days. I still have twenty minutes and I haven't even made it 500 metres on the replacement bus. I have no idea if I'll make it to the institute in time for my midterm exam. Somehow this whole day has been messed up. The batteries of my alarm clock had decided to quit their service this morning, then my jam roll landed on the carpet of my room, of course, the crucial side, my cup of tea spilled on my exam outfit and finally I was at the tram stop to find out that nothing was running today. Now I found myself on my way to university, crammed into a Berlin city bus with what felt like a thousand other people. To make matters worse, it was terribly stuffy and hot, and the headaches that had announced themselves in the morning had now arrived too, joining the stabbing pain that had been occurring more and more often in my chest lately. For the moment, none of that mattered; the only thing that was important was to pass the exam. Bing, the friendly voice on the PA system has just announced my stop, Staatsoper, and I still have five minutes on my time account. Now just get out and into the main building of Humboldt University, up the stairs to the third floor and hope that it was less than five minutes. Well, I was just about on time when I arrived at the examiner's door. I looked as if I had just completed a marathon, with sweat pouring down my body and my heart pounding so hard in my chest it felt like it was trying to jump out. The door opened, ‘Ah, Mr Kevin Boltz, there you are!’ I suddenly feel an incredible pain in my chest, see dancing spots of light and then...

Berlin, Charité
Beep, beep and snippets of conversations are the first things I perceive again. After opening my eyes and fighting against the bright light, I recognise the various medical apparatus around me. A glance out of the window at the TV tower makes it clear to me that I am lying in a hospital bed in the Charite. How did I get here and why do I have electrodes on my chest, a drip in my arm and two tubes in my nose? I closed my eyes briefly to escape the light and...
Beep, beep. Man, I must be exhausted, no idea how long I was out. Now Dr Franke is standing in front of me and explaining that I had a heart attack, which was probably caused by a heart valve defect, and then there was the excitement and the exertion due to my size. I am 22 years old and now I am in hospital because of a heart attack. This morning, my biggest problem was a failed intermediate exam, but now that seems rather insignificant. Dr Franke then revealed to me that there would have to be an operation to replace the ‘broken’ heart valve, but that he needed my consent for that. He said goodbye, saying that my parents had already been informed and were on their way here. So I was alone again and could follow my thoughts and...
‘Kevin, what are you doing, so young and already a heart attack.’
My mother stood in front of my hospital bed with a tear-stained face and totally distraught.
‘You must have felt pain before, something like this doesn't just happen.’ Her words faltered and tears rolled down her cheeks.
‘Do you know what you would have done to me? To just die like that. Mothers aren't supposed to bury their children.’ She kissed me on the forehead and continued sobbing.
‘Mum, I didn't do it on purpose, let alone wish for it. Now please stop crying. I'm still alive and I'm already feeling better.’ ’Mr Boltz, you should have the operation as soon as possible to get well again.’
I hadn't even noticed that Dr Franke had entered the room, and my mother started crying harder at his words. He explained to her and me how the procedure would go and that, as with everything, there would be a risk. I felt queasy and I actually only had one question: ‘When can I leave the hospital again?’
‘We will, of course, try to perform the operation as quickly as possible, but several tests still have to be carried out,’ “I meant without the procedure?” I interrupted Dr Franke, and a “What?” rang out from both of them in unison.
‘Don't you want to have the operation?’ my mother asked, and Dr Franke said, “You are playing with your life if you decide against the operation. You could have another heart attack or suffer permanent damage from a stroke at any time. We can give you blood-thinning medication to reduce the risk, but you won't get old with it.” “When?” I repeated my question.
‘In a few days, if you insist. I'll leave you alone now. Think about it again and discuss it with your mother.’ With that, he left the room shaking his head.
‘Why Kevin? Are you afraid of the operation? Everything will be fine. You've already cheated death once!’ The forced optimism in her voice did not match her tear-stained face and red eyes at all.
I had been in hospital for seven days and was to be discharged today. Mum had brought me fresh clothes from my apartment and seemed to have accepted my decision. We sat together in Dr Franke's office, who made it very clear that he thought my decision was completely wrong. My mother senses her chance to appeal to my conscience and repeats the one question: ‘Why Kevin?’ and quickly adds, ‘Don't think you can get away without answering this again. I've waited long enough for an answer and I won't leave this hospital with you until you've explained to me why you want to risk your life?’
I get up and go to the window and look at Berlin. I have been living here for three years now, at 19 graduating from high school in the province of Mecklenburg and then studying here at the HU. When I came to the ‘capital’, I had so many dreams and desires. I hoped that many things would change and that I could just leave my old life behind me. The disappointments and...
‘Kevin?’ my mother pulled me out of my thoughts. Dr Franke had left the room to give me the opportunity to explain everything to her in a private atmosphere.
‘Mum, I'm gay!’ Maybe that wasn't the best way to start a conversation that was supposed to make clear why her only child suddenly seemed to have taken a dislike to life. My mother's uncomprehending expression was followed by the words: ’So what? Okay, no grandchildren for me, and it won't be easy to explain to the grandparents and your father, but I'd rather you were gay and alive than dead just to keep the peace in the family. Kevin, that's not the real reason, is it? You know that no matter whether you like boys or girls, you will always be my son and I love you just the way you are! So why?’
I look into my mother's eyes and see the first tears making their way down her cheeks.
"I'm scared, mum. I'm 22 years old, weigh 160 kilos and have never experienced what it's like to be loved by another person. I don't even know what it's like to be kissed. I'm afraid that the last thing I see in my life will be the anaesthetist's face mask and the bright light of the surgical lamp.’ ’Kevin, we, your father and I, love you and how do you imagine it, stepping out of the hospital and falling into the arms of your great love? Have the operation and you still have enough years left to experience your dreams. Kevin please!’
I look back at the city: ‘Mom, you know that I long for a different kind of love. Just as you know that it would be hard for me to find a girlfriend. When I walk through the city or to university, I see the looks resting on me, hear the murmuring and get “Man, you're fat!” thrown at my head. I had hoped that I would finally find friends here in Berlin and that bullying would finally be a thing of the past. Maybe it's true that inner values are what count. But so far, no girl or boy has been interested in my character; the sight of me might just be too daunting.’
‘Don't say things like that, Kevin. You may be a little corpulent and could do with losing a little weight, but you'll find a cute woman who'll go with you if you live long enough.’
‘Man, mum, man! But I'm not looking for anything cuddly and so far I haven't met anyone who hopes to find that. The few gays I met at university didn't give me the impression that I was part of their type,‘
’You met gays?‘
’Mum!’
‘What do you intend to do now, Kevin? Go back to your apartment? Just carry on living and hope you survive each day?‘
’I'm going to travel, visit a few people who were once very important to me.‘
’That's much too exhausting for you. I can't accompany you, I have to go back to work. Kevin, think about all this again.’
Her voice had become more and more pleading during the conversation, it hurt to look at her haggard face and say, ‘Mom, I've made up my mind!’
Dresden, train
I stand in my apartment and look out the window and watch the people and the traffic in front of my doorstep. My mother is already on her way back to Mecklenburg. After a silent drive from the Charité to my apartment, she hugged me for at least ten minutes, made me promise to come back alive from my adventure and to reconsider the surgery. When she got into the car, she seemed very calm and said: ‘If you have to go away, come and visit us!’
It's funny: a week ago, my whole life looked very bleak, but dealing with death wouldn't have crossed my mind. I wanted to be on the road for four or five days, visit three people and maybe say goodbye to them. I knew that my heart could quickly thwart all plans, and I was not only afraid of never knowing what true love feels like and what it is like to wake up next to someone and look into eyes that long for you, but also of not being able to finish this little journey.
The Eurocity comes closer to Dresden with every stop. I had taken one of the first trains and would arrive at the main station shortly after 10:00 a.m. There was no time to lose. I looked out at the fields, meadows, forests, and saw villages and towns rushing past my window. I was sixteen years old when my mother sent me to a summer camp, beautifully situated on a lake with lots of fun, entertainment, and exercise. She thought she was doing me a favour and hoped I would make friends there, lose a little ballast and shed my cultivated loneliness. I hadn't even really arrived yet when the gauntlet began for me, I never found out the names of the clique that kept picking on me and coming up with all sorts of nastiness. I told myself that I would make it through three weeks, after all, I had already survived ten years of school with classmates who were not much better. On the third day, I had just been pushed off the jetty into the lake, I shuffled towards the bungalows in my wet clothes, listening to the giggling and the comments, of which ‘Look at the fat seal diving!’ was the nicest thing that was called to me. I had stopped crying over such things years ago, otherwise I would have only given them more ammunition. When I arrived at the bungalow, I couldn't open the door because it was being held shut from the inside by my roommates. I stood in the hallway and dripped away. Of course I should have gone to the camp leaders, but then I might as well have painted a target on my forehead and probably wouldn't have been taken seriously. The boys were just having a little fun and the clothes would dry again. Over the years, I had developed a thick protective shield. I had tried to fight back in the past, but that only caused trouble with my parents, theirs, and the school. The second approach was to argue, but that didn't work either. The third approach was to remain silent and wait until they found a new victim or until they lost interest for the moment.
"Hey, take this towel and you in there, finally open the door. You've had enough fun at someone else's expense!’ I looked into the deepest blue eyes I had ever seen and was initially overwhelmed. In the next moment, I thought I was being made fun of and waited for the onset of loud jeering. But the boy was really serious. First he pushed the towel under my arm, then he went to work on the door. He banged on it twice with the palm of his hand and it was immediately opened. He then shooed everyone else out of the room. ‘Hello, don't just stand there gaping! Come in, there's no one left in there and I'll stand guard outside while you go and change into something dry. Are you okay?’
With a broad grin, he pushed me into the room and closed the door from the outside. Completely automatically, I changed my clothes and was still perplexed by the behaviour of this boy. I sat down on my bed and enjoyed the peace and quiet. There was a knock at the door, which was opened a crack, and the blond head with those blue eyes appeared in it and asked: ‘Can I come in?’
I still didn't really know what was happening here and before I could answer, he was already sitting in front of me on a chair.
"It was shit of the others and absolutely no longer funny to leave you standing here in the hallway, dripping wet, I would really like to give them a real beating,’
‘NO! Then they'll just pick on me even more."
The blue eyes appraised me: “So you can talk after all, and not just drip all over the hallway and stare in amazement.”
I had to grin, the boy was not all there. First he helped me, then he wanted to avenge me, and now he started a conversation with me.
‘Smiling too. I'm Sebastian, and you?‘ Still unsure, I hesitantly said my name, “Kevin.”
’So, Kevin, what are we going to do together now?"
With this question, the best weeks of my life began. Suddenly I belonged to Sebastian's clique, had a place at their table in the dining bungalow, and was always with them. I no longer had time to dwell on my own gloomy thoughts, I no longer got annoyed. We sat together by the lake and talked about our families, our hobbies, our taste in music and actually about anything that would give us stuff. We staged wild water battles in the lake or just lay around on the beach, disfiguring all the songs that were sung around the campfire with our voices and wrong notes. Sebastian dragged me along everywhere: to table tennis, to badminton, to seemingly endless bicycle tours or to rowing on the lake. On the first night in my own bed back in Mecklenburg, I realised what I had experienced, what Sebastian had given me during those weeks. It was friendship, a rare and precious experience for me. That night I cried for the first time in a long while. He was now 300 km away from me and apart from the memories, I only had his address. We wrote to each other regularly for several years, he told me about his life, his daily routine, his friends. I was the first person he came out to, I suffered with him and I was happy for him. There wasn't much to tell about my life. I hadn't been able to take this feeling of friendship and happiness from the camp with me and it faded more and more. My monotonous life wasn't exactly exciting and so I invented stories, adventures I had experienced. I came out to him, described my first time and my escapades with boys, my wild parties and so on. With each letter, the number of lies increased and it became more and more difficult for me to keep track of the truth and invent new things. I did all this just to avoid losing him. The correspondence became more and more sluggish from year to year, from month to month, and the stories more and more outlandish. At some point, I couldn't take it anymore and confessed everything to him. He was right to be disappointed in me and the trust between us was destroyed. It took him a long time to make contact with me again, but it never went back to the way it was before. His letters were superficial and mine were full of apologies and trivial things from my life. There had been radio silence between us for a year and a half; he hadn't answered my last letters.
Now I am on my way to see him and hope to find him at his old address. Sebastian, the first and only one who called me his best friend and who is my first and only love to this day.
Dresden, city
Dresden Central Station, I remember the pictures when the water here made its way through the doors like a rapid. I buy my ticket for the next stop on my journey at the travel centre. I'm only staying until tonight, I feel like time is racing by for me and I don't even know if I'll find Sebastian. Doubts assail me in the taxi on the way to the last place I know he lives. I've been standing in front of the house for half an hour now, according to the doorbell sign he still lives here. Actually, I don't have any time to lose and now I'm standing here looking like I'm casing the house for a break-in. I press the doorbell and since I'm worried that he won't let me in, I'll try the catchphrase ‘advertising’. The thought that he might not be there at all is quickly pushed out of my mind. The buzzer signals that I can enter, I push open the door and slowly make my way up the stairs to the fourth floor. I would also complain to fate if my heart were to give out here. My eyes have just caught sight of the blue one for whom my heart has been beating for so long. With my well-considered greeting on my lips, I step up to Sebastian.
‘Come in, Kevin!"
He turns around and disappears into the apartment. I follow him and see him go through a door on the left side of the hallway. I close the front door, put my backpack down, take off my jacket and wait for things to come. Nothing happens, so I start moving and head for the same door where Sebastian disappeared. I'm standing in the kitchen, he's sitting at the kitchen table having breakfast with a girl.
‘Tina, this is Kevin. Kevin, this is Tina, my flatmate, who woke me up ten minutes ago saying, ‘There's a guy outside the house watching it, look at that.’ So you dared to ring the doorbell after all. I'll make it short, Kevin. What do you want here?’
Tina uses the silent moment to steal out of the kitchen. I look into his blue eyes and wonder why I'm actually here. ‘Sebastian, I just wanted to see you again, find out how you've been lately. Ask for forgiveness. Revel in memories and try to pick up where we left off.’
‘What do you want to tie up again, Kevin? Your lies, your stories, our ‘friendship’. You hurt me deeply back then, I thought we were best friends and could tell each other anything. I was happy for you because it seemed like you had finally found the life you had always been looking for. In the end, it was all just fiction because you were afraid of losing me. I told you everything about my life, I trusted you and you only found lies to answer me. Kevin, I never gave you any reason to think that you could become unimportant to me."
I look out of the window and the doubts from before are back again. He's right, what am I thinking, turning up here and expecting him to take me back into his arms.
‘Now sit down, Kevin. I couldn't bear to see it back then at the camp, that expressionless face, as if someone had taken a child's favourite toy away. Would you like a roll? Maybe just one, you seem to have lost a bit of your shape over the last few years!’
When he smiles, I wish that this day will be like the ones at the lake in the camp. He tells me about his great love, or rather, about a great love. After they had moved in together and set up a cosy nest, he cheated on Sebastian and left him alone with everything. I tell him about my life in Berlin, about my studies and about how I have been withdrawing more and more into myself for a year now. I don't like to leave the apartment, I'm afraid of the world out there. We talk about our dreams and goals, imagine our future and design our dream man. Time flies and I hear the sound of the waves and the wind blowing through the reeds.
The Frauenkirche has been rebuilt and we stroll past it towards the Elbe. Each of us has an ice cream with several scoops in our hands as we sit by the river, the water flowing ceaselessly towards the North Sea.
"How long do you want to stay? You can sleep at my place, but you don't even have a bag with you, do you?’
‘I only have the backpack with me, I'm not staying in Dresden. What time is it?‘
’A little before 7:00 p.m.‘

‘Mom, can I talk to you, please?’
‘Of course, sweetheart, you know that, anytime... just not right now, I'm terribly busy.’
"Okay, would you please give me an appointment?’
‘Don't be silly, darling.‘
’I'm serious. And please don't keep calling me ‘darling’; I'm not one of your lab rats. Maybe you vaguely remember my name?‘
’Jan, that's enough! How dare you talk to me like that?‘
’For the simple reason that it's the only way I can get a little of your attention.’
‘Don't you think you're exaggerating a bit? You're giving me the feeling that I don't have enough time for you, nor am I interested in you.‘
’Thanks, I couldn't have put it better myself.‘
’Before you make any more mistakes in your tone, come into the kitchen and talk. It seems important. You have 15 minutes, then I have to go.’
‘All right, I'll be brief. Mother, I'm gay.‘
’But darling... Jan, it doesn't matter, it can happen to anyone. Could you see if you can find this potato peeler? I'm sure I used it just yesterday... WHAT DID YOU SAY?’
‘You just have to listen to me for once, then you'll understand me. And please don't shout, it's not your style.‘
’Well, I don't think it's particularly funny either, that you wanted to scare me like that. Now say what you really wanted to say, I'm listening.’ ’You've got 10 minutes, then I have to go.’
‘I know that. I grew up with that sentence. You always have to leave sometime.
Mother, I didn't want to scare you. I'm serious. I'm gay!‘
’Why do you always call me ‘mother’? You've never done that before.‘
’I've never told you that I'm gay either.’
‘Gosh, I'm completely confused now. Can we sit down and talk in peace?‘
’We only have 5 minutes left, it's not worth it.‘
’Jan, please stay here. The hairdresser's not important. Please excuse me. Can we start over? It wasn't a good start for a conversation like this.’
‘Okay, I'd like that. So, Mom, can I please talk to you?‘
’Yes, Jan, of course. Would you pass me the water bottle, please? Thanks.‘
’I'm gay, Mom. I only love men.‘
’Yes, but... I mean, it can't be... well... I don't know how to say it.’
‘It's okay, Mom, I know. No, it's not a phase and it's not something that will go away.‘
’And how long have you known?‘
’About a year and a half. Before that, it was just an uncertain guess. But then it became more and more certain.‘
’Has it been that long? And you never said anything? Why now?’
‘I first had to come to terms with it myself. And come to terms with it. Besides, now there's a good reason.‘
’And what's that?‘
’I've fallen in love. Not with a crush, like a few times before, but really in love. His name is Andreas, and I want you to meet him.‘
’So I have him to thank for the fact that my son is finally telling me the truth?’
‘No, certainly not. It's about me, but also about you. I just used Andreas as an excuse, as a hook, so to speak. To give myself courage.‘
’Courage? Did you need courage to talk to me about it?‘
’But certainly. I could almost imagine your enthusiasm.‘
’My goodness, what will your father say?’
‘He's not the point now, I'll talk to him later. I want to talk to you about this now. Did you understand exactly what I told you?‘
’I heard your words, but I can't grasp it. What does it all mean?‘
’It means that I can never give you a girlfriend, daughter-in-law or your own grandchild. I will always be a man's partner.’
‘And you're just telling me this?‘
’What do you think I should have done? Write you a letter? Imagine, I even considered doing just that. But then I thought it would be unfair.‘
’Unfair? It's strange to hear you use that word. So I should just accept the fact that you're gay, and you think that's fair?’
‘Okay, let's talk about you. What exactly do you find so appalling about the idea that I'm gay? Can't you stand the thought of me lying in bed with a man, kissing and...‘
’Jan! Stop it! Not a word more about it. And please avoid that word, it sounds incredibly primitive!’
‘Fine, have it your way. Let's look at it from a different angle. There's a big party at the tennis club and I show up with Andreas. You have to introduce him. What do you say then? ‘This is a friend of my son’? Or ‘He's my son's friend’? Or even worse, imagine that in a few years you might have to say: ‘That's my son's husband, my son-in-law.’ Well, how do you feel about that? When the “proper society” finds out that you have a homosexual son, hm?’
‘I'll tell you, Jan. Right now, it just makes me want to throw up. You spring this fact on me that changes our lives and you come at me like that? If you think that ‘proper society’ is important to me, then you're absolutely right. Yes, right now the thought of introducing this Andrew...‘
’Andreas.’
‘Please? Oh, well, Andres, whatever... to announce this man as your boyfriend. And then I see them whispering, all our friends, our business partners, wondering what they're doing, talking behind our backs, giving us a pitying look, staring at my son like a rare insect. And I'm supposed to be amused about this, or what? You just plonk this inconceivable fact down in front of me. You said earlier that you had been dealing with yourself for years, that you needed your time to come to terms with it, and I'm supposed to grasp it all in two minutes and giggle about it? What do you think? And above all, what do you expect of me? That I embrace you enthusiastically? That I confess to you full of delight that I never wanted a daughter-in-law anyway, let alone a grandchild screaming? That I run joyfully towards your father this evening with the words: ‘Darling, something great has happened. Just imagine, our only son is homosexual! Let's celebrate, champagne, caviar!’’
‘Mom! Mama, please... just calm down, please don't cry, oh gosh, I'm sorry, I was an idiot, here, take this tempo... you know what? I'll make us some coffee now. Would you like a cognac with it too? No, don't get up, I'll do it.’
‘Thanks, that's fine, son. I'm just a bit confused at the moment. Would you mind getting the milk out of the fridge? But Jan, please, cognac in these glasses? That's what the snifters are for.’
‘Haha, you're right. That gives me the assurance that you've calmed down again, yes? So again, I'm sorry. I really ambushed you with it. Just blame it on my nervousness. Look, it's not easy for me either, this conversation, okay?‘
’Of course, I imagine so, Jan. Do you want to talk about you? How did it start?’
‘I can't really tell you that anymore either. I just realised one day that I thought the girls were quite nice, I also had some really nice friends at school, but... I only really looked at the boys, if you know what I mean. So, what I mean is, feelings arose in me for them. The first crushes were hard. I was so... so insecure, so confused. It was a terrible time, Mama.‘
’I believe you, darling. What happened next?‘
’I had good contacts on the internet. And one day someone drew my attention to a very special site. A forum where the idea is to write stories. I read through it a few times. And then I registered because I realised that some of the people there had the same problems as me. It's a community that consists of gay people, well, I mean homosexuals, mostly my age. Well, and then I talked to more and more people there, including myself. That helped me a lot. They became my friends, kind of my family!‘
’Come on, Jan, your family is still us!’
‘But not in this case, Mom. I was so alone, so insecure, had no one to talk to because I didn't dare to, I wasn't even sure yet... Mom, I just needed that community there. And today I'm part of them, I belong. And when someone comes along who feels alone and insecure, I try to help them.’
‘Boy, I had no idea. I always just wondered why I didn't notice a girlfriend, why you didn't hint at it, but then I also told myself that when the time came, you would tell us. No young man likes having to officially introduce his girlfriend to his parents.‘
’Mom, have you ever slept with a woman?‘
’Excuse me?’
‘My question is quite simple: have you ever had sex with a woman?‘
’Really, what makes you ask that? Of course not! But... I remember... my goodness, that was a long time ago, I was just entering my 20s... it was at a party.‘
’And what happened?’
‘Well, there was a girl there called Monika... yes, that's right, Monika. And she really flirted with me. At first I was dismissive, but then I was flattered and I thought: why not? You should experience everything at least once!‘
’Oh yeah? You?’
‘Of course, Jan, I was young once too and less inhibited than I am today. Anyway, my goodness, there was alcohol involved too, I let her get me. We went to her house. It was all fun at first, we were fooling around. But then we went to bed. The kiss, well, a real kiss, you know, that seemed strange to me, I had never kissed a woman like that before. And then it got more intimate, oh dear, I remember vaguely, it was just bad.‘
’What was bad?’
‘Well, it got really intimate... and then I just felt sick. And it wasn't from the alcohol. Jan, it was awful. I really have a good relationship with my body, and I think I still look very good at 45... and I thought so in my early 20s too... but to be touched like that by a woman... would you please give me another sip of cognac?’
‘Gladly... and thank you very much for this story, it makes things easier for me.‘
’Why?‘
’Because then I can explain to you better how I feel.‘
’Again, why?‘
’Exactly the same, Mom. I just can't sleep with a woman. I've never even tried it, just the thought ---- it's just not possible.’
‘Hm... do I understand you correctly now? And what about the guilt? Who is to blame for... your condition?‘
’Mother, I don't have any conditions! I'm just gay, that's just the way I am... just like you can only sleep with men, I can only sleep with men. All right?‘
’I just asked you a question, why are you getting aggressive?’
‘Because I'm beginning to doubt that you want to understand me!‘
’I want to, but I can't yet. Now calm down and answer my question: who is to blame? Is it me? Did I not take care of you enough? Your father? Does he have something to do with it?’
‘My father has hardly anything to do with me, but that's another problem. No, Mom, this is not about guilt, after all, it's not a crime! There's no point in sending me to a psychiatrist either, and a cure can't heal me, and there won't be a special clinic in the US!’
‘Jan, please take the handkerchief... not the sleeve... oh boy, I'm sorry. Forgive me, I've done so much wrong.‘
’No, Mom! And that's exactly what you have to understand: there is no guilt. That's not what it's about for me. The fact that you never had enough time for me, okay... but that's a completely different topic. I turned 20 not too long ago, remember? I grew up in my own way. And I'm doing quite well with it. That's what it's about. I just want you to accept me. As the Jan that I am today... can I have another tissue... thanks. I'd like to make a suggestion, okay?‘
’And what would that be?’
‘Come with me on the internet. I want to introduce you to my community. I'd like you to read a few stories. You know, we also have some incredibly nice girls in the community who are very important to us. And then there's the mother of one of our members who is very active. Sometimes she's a bit crazy, but mostly quite harmless. Maybe you could have a private chat with her?’
‘Gladly, Jan. I will do that. But please not today. Give me time. Please. I know what you mean. And I will deal with the subject. You have to be patient with me. It's new. It's strange. And also a bit frightening.‘
’Okay. You're right, I had years of time. Today should have been the beginning, yes?’
‘Yes, Jan, it was a start. And I think we handled it quite well. At some point you can introduce me to your community, I will also read books, and I would like to talk to you about them again and again. And one day, not right away, but soon, I would also like to meet this Andreas. And now I'm just hungry! Do you want to go out for a quick bite?’
‘You know, I'd actually prefer us to stay here and cook something together. We haven't done that in a long time.‘
’Hm, yes okay, we can do that, but unfortunately there is still a problem that you would have to solve.‘
’Oh dear, what now?‘
’Please find that damn potato peeler!’

The second part of this story is also completely fictitious. I just wish there were more clarifying conversations. The ‘film’ refers to ‘Sommersturm’.