My German "Michael"
The very beginning of this story happened last month, not several years ago. The ending didn't happen but, perhaps, could have. As always please contribute to Nifty. And send me an email to mikedave01@yahoo.com if you liked this.
I was in Germany several years ago. One of the things I wanted to do, while there, was visit my older son in the south of Germany. So, on a bright Sunday afternoon I was on a packed regional train heading for a very small town not far from the Swiss and Austrian border. I was lucky to find a seat and the one I found was a kind of "jump seat" that you had to pull down from the wall. Normally it wasn't used, but the train was so full every seat was needed and people were still standing. The seat next to me was still in upright position and was free, but it was sort of hidden by a bike hanging from a rack off the ceiling. It had been a very long day of traveling already and my destination was only a half hour away. So, I wasn't feeling terribly charitable about revealing there was a free seat next to me, especially when that person would be in close proximity to me. And I'd already done my good deed for the day, hauling an old woman up the stairs in a crowded station so that she wouldn't get trampled by people trying to get to their train on time. Yeah, I'm pretty strong, especially for an old guy. Grin.
Guilt finally won out over selfishness, however. I finally decided to put the seat down and offer it to the next person looking for one. I'd let fate decide who would get the seat.
Well, fate certainly enjoyed itself that afternoon.
Within just a few minutes a young man walked into the compartment and I offered him, speaking in German, the seat next to me with a silly gesture as if I were offering him a great gift. He smiled and laughed and said, "It is celebration time!" I smiled, too.
We didn't say anything for a few minutes. But I couldn't help but notice that he had an odd pendant around his neck. Dangling from the very short chain around his neck and open collared shirt was a beautiful blue and green stone that also had some orange and red fire in it. He soon became aware of my interest and started to explain the stone and its significance to me.
"You see", he said, holding the stone out for me, and gazing at it, "This stone is a reflection of me and my personality. The blue and the green show my depth of character, my connection to the earth and the ocean, my strong inner core, and my strength of will. The red and the orange show my passions, my love for life, and my fire." He then looked me in the eyes to see my reaction to this rather surprising declaration of self to a total stranger.
"I see", I answered him. "May I?" I asked.
He held out the stone for me to hold. It was cool despite the warm temperature in the un-air conditioned car and having been next to his skin. And I thought I could detect some movement of the colors in the stone as I rolled it around in my hand. Very interesting. I gave it back to him, a bit reluctantly, but unsure why I was reluctant.
I then looked at the young man with the surprising stone carefully for the first time. He was a good-looking young man. He looked to be around 30 and was about 5'9 or 10 to my 6'1 and he was slender, but had some muscle. He had the slightly long hair young German men of a certain class currently favor, in a light brown shade. He had light eyes, a good chin, and a nice mouth. Um. What did I just think? I smiled a bit ruefully and he returned the smile. I guess he had probably just been giving me a lookover, too. What did he see? I guess he would have seen a slightly tall, somewhat muscular guy with hazel eyes, brown hair and white sideburns and a brown and white close-cropped beard. While I'm no beauty, I'm nice looking enough. Someone recently said I had a rugged wrestler face and body. Well, accurate enough. I did use to wrestle a lot and was somewhat known in the gay underground wrestling network--but don't ask for pics and videos. I'd lose my job if this part of me were revealed. And yes, some guys who do what I do have lost their jobs when videos of them wrestling were discovered. What else? I guessed he would think I looked to be of indeterminate age, but certainly well over 40, if not closing in on 60, as I actually was then.
We continued to chat and he asked me if I were returning home from holiday. I had to laugh at that and said, no, I was going to visit my son and that I was from America and not Germany. He exclaimed at that and said, "But you speak very good German. Your German is much better than my English!" I thanked him then. He asked where I was going and exclaimed again that he had lived there in the past. He gave me some basic information about the place, which was very nice of him, I thought. I asked him where he was going, then, enjoying talking with this pleasant and good-looking young man, as well as practicing my German.
His face clouded over, and I wondered if I had asked the wrong question.
"Actually", he said slowly, "I'm on my way to Lindau on the Bodensee (Lake Constance) to spend a week with a friend of mine. My relationship just ended and I need some time to reflect." He then looked at me appraisingly. He had been careful not to say what gender his relationship was, but I decided it was a guy. If it had been with a woman, he would have given more details to someone who has a grown son. I'm not obviously gay (I'm actually bi) and as someone else said to me recently, "You don't give off any gay vibes". Well, no. And German is explicit in giving the sex of a friend. So, he was also going to be staying with a male friend.
I started to express my sympathy, but he cut me off. "No, no", he said, "It's all right. I think it is for the best actually. We were going different directions, and taking different roads. We are now too far apart to come back together."
I had to admire his turn of phrase. (And apologies for my rough translation from German.) It was obvious that this was no ordinary young man.
We then talked about what we did for a living. It turned out he made films. No, no ordinary young man. He did documentaries and commercials, essentially a free-lancer of sorts. This explained why he could just up and leave for a week from his job, too. It also helped explain his somewhat "metrosexual" appearance and his sense of fashion in his clothes. My admiration increased again.
"May I show you something?" he then asked.
"Of course", I answered, obscurely pleased that he had just switched from the formal "Sie" (you) form to the informal and more intimate "du" (you) form.
He pulled out a small photo album from his backpack and started to look for something. He said, "I want to show you some photos from a recent shoot we did for a Range Rover film in Namibia." Wow. This was some young guy.
And then it happened. He held out the album for me to see the pictures in such a way that I had to cup his hand with mine. A spark so intense hit me that I nearly dropped it! Oh my God. What was this? Oh fuck! I must have gasped, because he was suddenly looking at me with concern. Although we had been sitting close to each other before, our legs and torsos were now close to touching and anyone looking at us would have seen a pretty intimate scene. Our faces were also very close to touching as we both tried to look at the small album at the same time.
I looked at him but had no words. This was the "coup de foudre" the French talk about. Cupid had just shot me with his arrow. Yes. I knew what I had felt when I touched him, but I had no clue if he had experienced anything remotely similar. My immediate feeling after this realization was guilt. I mean, I was old enough to be this man's father. Plus he was cool in ways I would never be. He was German in Germany. The list went on and on. Damn it all. I couldn't have just fallen in love with a total stranger on a train in Germany. I was way old enough to know better. Damn, double damn, and triple damn.
He then took my hand in his and said, "Yes, I felt it, too. We were fated to meet today, it seems. Can you come visit me in Lindau after you see your son?" I nodded yes. Of course, I could. He gave me the address of the friend where he was staying and told me just to show up when I could and he would be there. Shit, it was already my stop. Time to get off. He and I looked at each other. I wanted to hug him, but was unsure of myself. It seemed he was, too. I was even afraid of shaking his hand. He then laughed and crushed me in a real hug. For a smaller guy he gave great hugs! There were tears in our eyes. I got off the train. I got the bus to meet my son. What the fuck had just happened?
I did really enjoy being with my son and seeing the town where he was living. However, the thought of being with the young guy who had ignited the spark in me that I had thought was long dead haunted me.
Soon enough I was back on the train to Lindau, wondering what would happen when I got there. I tried to pay attention to the lovely countryside, but I couldn't. I finally arrived and got off the train and then followed the map instructions I had printed out from the local library. My heart was beating fiercely in my chest as I got off the train into the late summer sunshine of the near Alps.
I eventually found the address after asking people for help. Thank God I spoke German! The address turned out to be an apartment in a fairly typical looking German house. I walked up to the second floor (third in American) and pushed the buzzer. My new friend answered, himself. He looked like he had just gotten out of a shower. He was a bit disheveled and looked as if he had just put on his clothes. He was so young and so fresh and quite delectable. I suddenly felt old, awkward, and like I shouldn't be there. However, he immediately put me at ease. He beamed at me and said, "So, it's you finally!" I nodded, smiled, and said it was. We then gave each other a real hug on both of our parts that we somehow never let go and our mouths wound up yielding to each other's. We were both shaking with desire when we finally released each other.
I started to talk in explanation. He put his hand over my mouth. "Don't", he said. "You have how many days with me?" I responded by saying, two. "Then for those two days we are lovers. We will be the best lovers the world has ever seen. But then we will part And perhaps we will meet again. But we will never forget each other? Yes?" We both had tears in our eyes. I realized how deeply he must have thought about us and how he had so maturely reached the inevitable conclusion he just stated. And of course yes.
We just held each other at first, reveling in the feel of each other. He fit perfectly in my arms. I softly started to kiss his hair as my arms started to feel his youthful strong body. He stroked my back and we began our lovemaking. And, it was clear to both of us that love was what this was about.
We took our time. We knew that these two days were only about us. I did ask at one point ask about the person whose place we were in. He answered that he was leaving it to us for the time I was here.
I know we cooked and ate. I know we did normal bodily things. But we were mostly naked and in each other's arms. I couldn't get enough of him and his beauty and he thought I was just as beautiful. Amazing.
We did everything together two men can do. I can give details of that for whoever wants. But we satisfied each other constantly. We barely slept. I had never had anything like I had with him. But too soon it was time for me to leave and go through Switzerland to France before returning to the U.S.
We couldn't help but cry as we parted. He would go on and I would go on. We knew that. That was life. But I wanted to give some kind of thanks to fate for bringing us together and had no clue on how to do that.
And even sillier we both finally asked each other our names and laughed out loud when we realized we had the same first name!
He and I stayed in touch. We got together twice more. When he married the very hot new guy he had been dating, I approved, of course, and tried not to be upset. He asked me to be the godparent of the older children they adopted. I've tried so hard to be an excellent godparent and to act my age. I think I've succeeded. And yes, I do know that the alternative to being old is pretty severe.
My German godchildren do love the their American godfather. And I love them. This is the way it's supposed to be. But I do love one of their dads, Michael, in ways that they will never know and I always will. But that's ok, too.
Hugs to all.