Kiss and fly

At certain airports there are such ‘Kiss & Fly’ signs, which I find completely stupid, a bit like trying to give a normal parking zone a particularly original name. Too far, dear advertising people. But: The slogan is very appropriate for this story.

I have met her. My ex, who no longer deserves stars. You all thought it was wrong, but I’m not going to argue with that. As if you make well-considered, smart decisions non-stop, as if your life is a series of strategically good steps that give lasting meaning to life… Come on, give me a break! When I listen to my friends, including women, people, yes, they are really no better, but when I listen to them, they all zigzag through the world, take one step forward and three steps back. And yes, they are all in their thirties.

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We agreed to eat pizza. A Thursday. She flew back to New York on Friday, but I didn’t know that at the time. She only told me at dinner that it was her last evening in Switzerland. That shouldn’t have been the case. We had agreed to meet on Tuesday, but she wrote in the afternoon “Unfortunately we have to postpone it, sry”, so we postponed it. I’m relaxed.

She was walking through the bar when I walked in, on her way to the restroom. So far it has ‘got’ me every time. Every time I saw her. Short stitch. Or no air for a while. No idea. There was always a physical reaction when she was where I was. This time: nothing. I didn’t like her that much anymore either. Don’t get me wrong, the woman is beautiful. But I always thought she was the most beautiful person to ever enter this world. But when she sat there in front of me I thought: oh yes, nice, but Valentina or Hanna or Laura, they look at least as good now.

We drank beer, we always do that when we’re together, always too much somehow. And after every drink I understood better why she was once “she*”. Why she had all the stars. We talked about the good old days, which probably weren’t that good, but if you only talk about the good times and ignore the bad, then times are such that you feel like you have to go back to them.

We didn’t talk about New York. As if that hadn’t happened. That means nothing happened.

We moved on to a bar we always go to when we’re together. Perhaps because the name corresponds to our condition. Yes or no, that means. (Not in German, even the worst marketing position isn’t that bad.)

The longer we stayed at the bar, the more I leaned toward yes. Don’t say yes to a relationship. I am still me. Yes to sex. Yes, too much sex. You won’t find it surprising, but I’ve decided not to sleep with her. Sex with her always made me feel so bad, I wanted to avoid that. At least I had gotten to the point where I realized she wasn’t doing me any good. But I forget that at the moment. Not because I’m as drunk as I was at the shared apartment party, for example. It’s a pull somehow, as if my brain is being controlled by someone else.

She was staying with a friend and I took her there. We were standing there in front of the door. At one point she pulled me down by my jacket, we kissed, the last ‘no’ was gone.

There’s something else she needs to tell me, she said as she opened the door. No idea what I expected. That we had to be quiet, that she had her period, that she had to go out early, something like that.

She told me that when she was already in the stairwell. Really, folks. Concerned! Not in love, damn engaged. I thought I was in a bad Hollywood movie. The request came three weeks ago. She said yes, logically, otherwise she wouldn’t be engaged, but at the same time, amazingly, she always said she didn’t want to get married. I asked why she really wanted to see me. “Maybe that’s exactly the reason.” But they were never really together. “Yes, yes, not the first two years, but now the last few months.”

She kissed me again. Once, twice, a few times. Yes, I know, I regret it too, but guys, I was in shock.

Then I’m home. Without going up. Without sex. At least I managed to do that. I still fell into the hole. Not because I thought anything would happen between us again. I’m really happy with my relationship status, we’d love to talk about it again, but because all the meetings in the spring now appear in such a different light, because my trip to New York feels even dumber.

I know I broke my promise. I never wanted to write about her again. Sorry. Will not happen again. A great word of honor.

So long,

Ben