Ruby Stark

On Friday night, I picked up my friend, Archigram, from the airport and we went to the same upstairs in a shopping centre bar that Malt took me to the week before. We talked about Archigram’s lovely girl and how fun in Berlin is happening without me having to make it and drank beer.

The next day, we went for a long walk across bridges and through dusty parks in the sun and ended up at the Soviet Memorial. I had been there with my old German girlfriend, Cassette, on a freezing cold night when it was pouring with rain and we were the only people there, the only warmth in the desolate, concrete wasteland. We were really in love with each other, then.

Archigram and I pottered about and talked about the war and having children and making a family.

We popped home and I changed into my sexy, slinky red dress and then we went to meet Brown for supper at the Italian she had taken me to for my birthday and had a cosy meal talking about triligual puns and people not understanding when you are being ironic. I ate spinach and ricotta ravioli steeped in butter and we dipped pieces of bread in oil and balsamic vinegar. Then, we went to the gay/biker/hipster bar for drinks and met Malt, his cute friend, Steffi, Cal and Smirk. We talked about nginx and ejaculation and the Kit Kat Club. Malt and Archigram got along famously.

The three of us went to play Lord of the Rings pinball and then Dust texted me to say he was outside. I went into the street and sat on the kerb with him and his friends and bantered and it felt so continental to drink beer perched on pavement and have a back and forth with a group of happy people.

Presently, everyone from inside came outside and we walked to the club. We got there and then Reed and his lovely girlfriend, Thora, and Wally from work arrived and we all danced faster and harder. Some time passed in dancing and talking and cigarettes outside, and Malt and I made a mini-gang we dashed about the club and danced. He did his winning smile at me like you would smile at a beloved but dimwitted child, or the smile people do when they are mocking you. We went to the unisex loo and it felt pleasingly public with the guys at the urinals and the people in the cubicles snorting cocaine and came out and stood real close and he stroked my back and my neck and I put my arm around his waist and we both stared into the crowd and I looked up at him and he was still looking outwards and then I looked up again and he kissed me and stroked my all over my sides and back and shoulders and it felt really good.

I heard Reed’s braying voice and realised that half the company would have seen, and I cared a bit, but not a lot. The night went on and Malt and I kissed a few more times and he kept on stroking my back and bottom and sides and I remember that, when I kissed him, I pushed my hips against his.

Finally, it was five a.m. and Archigram wanted to go home so we left. We got home and the cats hurled themselves at my bedroom door for the next hour until Archigram made me get up and stop them. But it was nice to share a bed with him again.

We wandered around on Sunday in a daze, went to the new national art gallery and drank coffee. He set off for the airport in the evening and I was very sad to see him go.

On Monday, it was obviously a bit awkward with Malt. No one else commented, which was gooood. A sense of horror and it-was-a-mistake-but-I-couldn’t-have-known-in-advance-ness crept over me, but dissipated when I went out for supper with Malt in the evening. He said he would be Ok with being friends and OK with more, which was very brave. I said I had always found sex with boys difficult and that I naturally leant towards girls and he said it was OK to take it slow.

So, at the moment, I am at the precise nexus of my feelings growing or shrinking. I wish I had the full text of my old Susie Down blog so I could refresh my memory on how my feelings for Dusk evolved. I do know that I felt only trepidation and not longing int the days after we slept together. However, when we had a threesome with Tourista a month later, I remember asking her whether she was keen on him and so I was probably, by that point, keen on him myself.

Today, when I came out of work, sexy D followed me down the stairs and smiled at me with his “I am thinking about having sex with you right now” smile and I skipped away to the U-Bahn light-footed and happy.

On Tuesday, I moved into my new place in Kreuzberg. The lesbians were out, and I arranged my few things in my huge room. I have a great view over a little park and out over the rooftops. The two cats are delightful: the older one, Pecadee, taciturn and sober, the younger one, Rocket, dynamic and always wanting to play-fight.

On Thursday, Musk, Vanilla, Vanilla’s mother and I all at supper together. It was nice. Things are so domestic here: we share the shopping and they buy tulips and mangoes and there is beer in the fridge. The apartment is light and airy and has a great view down the street. For the first time in my life, I am living in precisely the area I want.

On Friday, I went to meet Brown for a Vietnamese and then we met some of her friends at a weird hybrid gay/hipster/biker bar. We drank beer and talked about the BBC and Brown’s failed romance with a chap who lives in Cairo. There were quite a few gays in our party, but they were not annoying. We went on to a basement bar in Neukölln that was red lit and full of fairly boring people. I left about two and got home and played with Rocket on my duvet and wrote to Cat.

Today, I went to meet my cousin, who is visiting Berlin, and his girlfriend. We ate an early lunch in a good cafe down the road from my house and talked about the films they make and our family and living in a foreign country and my job. It was really nice.

This evening, I went to meet my boss, Malt, for Capture the Flag. It was cold and raining, and, despite some kind translations, I found it hard to join in properly because I couldn’t really communicate. But, it was great to hang out with Malt. I think I might be falling for him. We have banter and his smiles give me little lurches and he’s tall and a little protective and confident and alpha. Thinking of having sex with him brings a mixture of desire and repulsion and shyness and fear. I haven’t fantasised about him yet. But, this slow growing of attraction is the way it always seems to go with boys.

Malt left about nine to go to a house-warming party. He didn’t invite me, and I’m not sure why.

It struck me that I always give savoury names to the boys I really like: Grain, Dusk, Malt.

I got the U-Bahn back to Kottbusser Tor and walked up through Kreuzberg. I stopped off and had a soul-warming pizza and beer, then came home.

Tomorrow, I am hopefully going for a massage with Canvas.

I’ve just started reading Endgame Vol. 1: The Problem of Civilisation by Derrick Jensen.