This is what my life could have been like!

Anyone who thinks there’s a text here saying that Sandro has already kissed another girl after we just opened our relationship in a freestyle manner is wrong. And while he should. And I. So kiss. A little tinkering. No penetration. And goodbye.

In the end, we both wanted it. And now that it’s possible, it’s not so exciting anymore. Or we haven’t met Miss Right Now or Mister Right Now. If he/she comes, I’ll let you know. Maybe. Haha.

But today it’s about something else.

Today is about the fact that I recently met Nils, my first boyfriend. Not a problem in a city like Zurich, you might think. But it was. Because that friend moved to the other side of the world after we broke up. In between he was sometimes there, sometimes there, but most of the time he was very far away.

Now Nils is back. And bankers/brokers/whatever. Anyway: a lot of hassle. If you look at him. Not only does he have money, he also has a wife. And three children.

Nils and I then split up in the goddamn seventh year. I fell in love with someone else. Then a mud fight, much later sex with the ex, you know the drill. More about this here:

Our meeting is unromantic at best. In the packed 2-person tram I am practically under his armpit during the evening rush hour. I can’t believe this is from Nils. Until at one point he asked, “Emma?” say.

Ph. Crazy. It really is him.

On the one hand, my heart warms. Then it occurs to me that golf and money are his life. And now another “G” for Goofen. He says Goofen. Not me.

Nils talks to me and everyone listens. what I understand, after all, I always eavesdrop on everyone. I ask if we want something to drink. He can not. I have to get Goofen from daycare. Then quickly back to the new apartment. 160 square meters. 5400 Stutz including two garage spaces. “Worth every franc.”

Nils still prefers to spend the weekend on the golf course. Nils beams as he talks. His wife has a studio. She makes bags, wallets and key chains. More hobby, says Nils. She doesn’t have to do anything financially.

At first I think “great life”. In the second “great life I absolutely do not want to live”.

The Goofen are only in daycare for one day. So that the woman can enjoy herself in the studio. Otherwise she is home. “You don’t need idiots if you keep deporting them.” She was a born mother anyway. And woman. “Her braid, her lasagna and her fillet in batter, I tell you…!”

Nils says much more. How successful he is at work. That he has offers from all over the world. The headhunters call weekly. He is currently looking for boats. He wants one next summer.

I got off the tram long before it stopped at my station.

On the way home I think to myself that this could have been my life. Golf wife, Goofen mom, spender, craftswoman, acclaimed chef.

I tie everything up.

Then I realize that Nils managed 7 stations without asking me a single question. That reminds me of my dating days. Which I don’t miss by the way.

I come home pretty exhausted. Sandro is sitting on my couch. The music, which I find depressing, is played quite loudly. The Chuchichäschtli from which he received a glass is open. I tripped over his sneakers and the jeans he swapped for sweatpants are on the kitchen floor (why?).

He beams at me, jumps up, gives me a big kiss on the mouth and says, “Ems, before I ask you how your day was, would you rather have Uber Eats or the Indian across the street?”

This is the life I want to live. Including open Chuchichäschtli doors, jeans on the kitchen floor and sneakers he couldn’t put more stupidly.

We’ll talk about Brünneli’s stubble and the beer cans that still (!) soil his balcony another time. Or never. Because hand on heart: a thousand times better B-like beer cans on the B-like balcony than a double-G-like money-hungry golfer.