‘Life is a sexually transmitted disease’
- R. D. Laing
I stumbled out of the Frankfurt train station and took to a street at random, I’d managed to lose my map but figured I had a good nose for direction- five minutes later and I was in the middle of Frankfurt’s red light district surrounded by strippers.
So what kind of girls are you in to? one of them asked me.
The kind with penises, I told them, and they waved me off down a side-street, assuring me that that was the direction I needed to go.
Unsure over whether or not it was a good idea to take advice from a stripper, I figured I didn’t really have any other choice, and began winding down the dimly lit streets. As I walked I found myself drawn into a pulsating bass-line and the ominous sound of a heaving crowd, and the closer I got, the more I began to realise why they had sent me in this direction.
At first I began to notice same-sex couples holding hands, and then I spotted rainbow flags and drag queens, and then I turned the corner and it hit me. As a deranged drag queen screamed down a microphone and began attacking glitter filled balloons with a machete, I realised I had accidentally come to Frankfurt Gay Pride, and then as if things couldn’t get any better, right there in the middle of it all, lit up in neon lights and decorated liberally with rainbow flags, was my hotel.
I couldn’t believe my luck. After finishing my job in Switzerland, I rolled out a map of Europe, randomly slammed my finger down on Frankfurt, and booked the first cheap hotel I could find, and somehow by absolute chance, I’d managed to orientate myself right in the centre of an enormous gay party.
There was one reason I chose Germany over all of the places that I could have visited, and that was the chance to finally complete my long unfulfilled fantasy of sleeping with a German boy. When the closest thing to sex you’ve had in several months of travelling is ten minutes in the shower with a clone of your ex’s penis, it’s no surprise that I’d go off in search of a real man. I’d spent the past months flirting with Italian boys, Spanish boys, and French boys without any real fulfilment- flirting with a German wasn’t going to be enough, so I renewed my Grindr subscription and headed to Frankfurt with every intent of fulfilling my fantasy. And The Universe approved of my plan by putting the entire gay population of Frankfurt right on my doorstep.
I dashed straight upstairs to my hotel room, quickly showered and threw on fresh clothes, necked a bottle of wine, and headed down into the party. My song was playing as I glided down the staircase and out into the street, my feet trod so lightly on the pavement that I felt like I was flying, for the first time since splitting with my ex, I felt like I had complete control back over my life, I was free to do what I wanted, when I wanted. I had a wallet stuffed with hard-earned disposable cash, nobody to disapprove of me or judge me for my actions, and absolutely no commitment to anything but the dance floor.
And right there before me was a crowd of beautiful skater boys, all slender and toned, with dazzling blue eyes and perfectly straightened hair, I had come to Germany just in time for the skater-boy-buffet, and my only complaint was that I only had time to sample one dish.
After hours of dancing, with fire in my belly and lust in my veins, I found him at the Brazilian cocktail bar. He flicked his messy jet black hair out of his eyes as I approached him and gave me a wide-cheeky grin; he was ordering a blowjob from the topless bartender, I simply told him that I knew where he could get a better one and lead him back to my hotel.
I was proud of my accomplishment, not that I had bedded a German boy, but that I had wanted to do something and so I simply went and did it, it was really that easy. I never expected to hear from him again after I kissed him Auf Wiedersehen in the hotel lobby, but as I headed for the airport to catch my flight to Rome, my phone buzzed and I found a single text from an unknown German number. I knew instantly who it was from- it just said three little words that made absolutely no sense, yet at the same time meant so much, love the world.
I knew he’d meant to say safe travels, enjoy your trip, but in his broken English, he’d managed to say something ultimately more poetic.
Love the world.
I will, I thought, I will.