Meeting Girls in Berlin

As a single, straight man in my early thirties, the thought of meeting a nice (or otherwise) German (or otherwise) girl (or otherwise) in Berlin is one that’s rarely too far from my mind. I have fallen in love with three girls thus far: a barmaid and two checkout girls. While those particular desires are likely to remain unrequited until my German language skills increase, I have been out on a number of what could only be described as ‘pussy hunts’, with a groups of men for whom picking up chicks is a firm priority. I, however, play the long game. Practically tectonic in fact, so I will usually wind up watching the ‘hunt’ from the sidelines.

Here’s a few types of interactions I’ve observed:

The Hideous Berlin Drunk

Mmmm, vulnerable. 

Barely capable of voiding their bladders without assistance, these girls are bolstered by more than a little sauce, but stymied by their general vacuousness. The end result is something that, were you to meet outside the confines of one of Berlin’s many booze halls, you would take for a well-meaning retard. This kind of girl will probably cost you around 6-7 Euros an hour, solely by virtue of a smile that says “I’ll sleep with you if you buy me one more drink.” That drink never comes though. These girls travel in pairs. Like alcoholic velociraptors in lipstick.

The “I’m waay too good for you”

Look at her. Just not worth the effort.

Not wholly unpleasant people, but from a penetrative point of view, your todger will remain drier than your mum’s psoriasis. Generally more interesting than most other bar meat you’ll be nibbling around, these are usually artists, and the attitude comes not from being enormously fit, but from being intellectually superior in some way. Granted, this may be true, but we’re not here to discuss the philosophy of art, we’re here to play with each other’s genitals, either figuratively or literally. Personally, I think it’s a defence mechanism of some kind. Not that that matters what I think, because the fact is that you’re not going to be getting the honey unless you brave the beehive, so to speak.


The slightly minging Jewish girl

I'd give her my final solution... in the face!!!!

This is a speciality of my mate, Mike. Indeed, he’s somewhat stepped up his game now that he has a bit more of a taste for the sauce. If there’s one thing that Jewish girls like more than Tiffiny jewellery and Matzos, it’s a guy with prospects. For a guy without prospects, Mike certainly does a good job of convincing people he’s got some. Whether it’s something to do with Mike’s Jew-seeking penis, or just an abundance of them here, I don’t know, but he certainly seems to have reasonable luck with them. The obvious problem arises in the morning, when they befriend you on Facebook, and you realise that they’re actually a bit minging, and you were hideously drunk last night. Still, קיין לעכער ס אַ ציל, right?

The ‘regular’ German girl

Technically attractive I suppose, but the face just says:
"I used to be your uncle."

Now, it’s no news that I don’t really find German girls all that attractive. Of course, that’s a wild over-generalisation, and I don’t mean to offend, honest I don’t but they’re a little… well… masculine for my tastes. It’s not that they’re bigger, or even taller, but it’s something to do with the features. Broad shoulders, small bottoms and big hands makes for a rather intimidating potential fingerbang recipient. Still, there is something attractive about this kind of ‘normal’ German girl that draws me. The main indicators of these girls is a level of English lower than the irritating near-native speakers, reduced levels of fuck-giving, and in general, they’re toting a bottle of beer (flaschenbier) rather than a glass of wine or long drink. I guess the attraction is a cultural one. There’s nothing quite like going native, especially post fact, when you try to convince yourself that you didn’t just have a meaningless one-night stand, you had a cultural exchange of fluids.

The Berlin ex-pat

Okay, so the thighs are pretty gross, but they
smell of fish, chips, pie and mash all
rolled into one. Home.

I’ve met a few of these so far, and the main distinguishing feature is that their German is infuriatingly good. One forgets, when one is away from home, how nice a homely girl from home is. One thing I’ve struggled with here is that there is a natural irritation barrier that will often get crossed by ex-pat chicks. They’ll rattle on about how interesting such-and-such museum is, and how you simply must try such-and-such club. What they forget is that I don’t give a shit. Not even the little kind of shit you get with a big fart sometimes. Sure, I’d be more than happy for you to spout this nonsense at me in a different environment – it saves me the hassle of having to talk – but don’t you get it? We’re both English, we’re both in this Berlin bar, we’re both drunk enough to find each other attractive – this is destiny. Admittedly, it’s not the most profound destiny, but if there is such a thing as fate, he definitely wants me to put my fickle finger in you.

Barmaids

Tell me that's not marriage material!

German barmaids are divine. That is all.


The one with the boyfriend

 I nicked this. Is that even allowed?

Okay, so this is not a uniquely Berlin thing, and if anything, a majority of Berlin bar fodder is unattached, or at least so lightly attached as to be, for all intents and purposes, single. The ones with boyfriends that don’t have stickers advertising their mentally conjoined status can fuck off to the same place that the single girls who say they’ve got boyfriends can fuck off to, and they can all die together as far as I’m concerned. No, there seems to be a general level of promiscuity in Berlin that makes me think that if I were more of a man, and not the romantic fool that I am, I might actually have a chance of spoofing my wad up some of these chicks. It’s not promiscuity in an Essex (that’s an area of England where the only requisite for random sex is the possession of functioning or near-functioning genitalia) sense, where sex is the goal, but rather a more glib attitude to it. It’s just a thing, yeah?

Please note, this is about girls you find in Berlin bars, not German girls in general.

Where To Live in Berlin?

1945 Berlin, just to show you where the wall was.

So knowing where to live in Berlin is fairly important if you ask me. Finding the right area for you is something that will really enhance your stay. When I first started thinking about it, I quite fancied Spandau. While I have been there before, and found the place delightful, I now realise that would have been a massively dick manoeuvre. It’s miles from anywhere, and wouldn’t give you a fair impression of the city. So where is good? Personally, I think I've landed on my feet, as where I live suits me perfectly, but I reluctantly concede that people are different,  so maybe this will help you find the place you're looking for.

Living in Friedrichshain

So I live in Friedrichshain, and I bloody love it. It suits my needs perfectly, and I have what I believe to be the best bar in town just around the corner (Zimt und Zunder). However, it is a little dull. You’re not in the thick of it like you might be with a place like Kreuzberg. It feels very working class, and importantly, quite German. Simon Dach Strasse is the main pub/club/eatery street in the area, but frankly, it’s a bit shit. There are only really a handful of actual bars, and what’s left is just a bunch of cliquey dives and pretty middle-of-the-road restaurants.

By contrast, Friedrichshain has the best park in town. It’s massive, chilled and has a decent running track. If you like the idea of lounging around in the sun watching wannabe circus performers waste their lives, then this is the place for you. If, like me, you enjoy the ambience of activity, but are far too doughy and poorly co-ordinated to actually engage in anything of a sporty nature, you’ll feel very welcome there. With volleyball courts, a fitness centre, climbing walls, and a confusing array of fitness equipment dotted around the place, it suits the kind of exercise nuts that find their way into Berlin.

While it doesn’t annoy me overly much, as it’s hard to get annoyed in such a place, seeing all the already-too-thin German girls running around only exacerbating their condition is frustrating to say the least. While I’m on the subject, it’s worth noting that Fredrichshain girls are not fit. Apart from the barmaid at Zimt und Zunder, but she’s mine, so leave off. 

<< The Berlin Metro map: handmade by retards. Try this for a better view.

Living in Kreuzberg

I know Kreuzberg less well than Friedrichshain, but in all honesty, you don’t need to know it that well. This is the area you’ll find yourself in if you’re one of these. In which case, you fully deserve whatever you get in life. Indeterminate sexual preference? You’re halfway there. Low-cut “male” vest top? You’re all the way. Skinny jeans, plimsolls and a dick hair-do and you’re balls deep in what I can only describe as the sweat-stained armpit of Berlin. It’s the equivalent of walking into a nice eatery and having your meal served to you in the toilet: why you would want to do it, I don’t know, but you’ll see a lot more dicks, that’s for sure.

However, at least you’re in the thick of it, and the quantity and range of bars is second to none. Living there would, to my mind, be a daily annoyance, but that’s because I’m a reactionary anti-popularist.

Living in Prenzlauer Berg

Prenzlauer Berg is a ‘nice’ place. Prams, prams, baby shops, quaint, characterless eateries, and more prams. Fuck that shit. Prenzlauer Berg is ‘nice’ in the same sense that receiving fellatio from a family member is ‘nice’. Unless you have a kid, or desperately want to be near an Apple Store, don’t move here, for god’s sake. This is mostly just an annex of London.

Smack in the centre is a place called Kollwitzplatz, which can go suck my balls. There’s a helluva lot of baby-peacocking here. “Ooooh, look at my baby. She’s just been accepted at the International Banking and Animal Noises University for the Under Fives.” Being forcibly pushed from the street by a snooty mother with a pram that could probably double as an international space station is something that will only ever get my heckles up.

No, I don’t like it. Pretentious and very much indicative of the aspects of this city I dislike, I find it difficult to get the enthusiasm to go there often. I’m sure there’s some lovely spots, but I didn’t come to Berlin to live in Wandsworth.

This map was created by estate agents. Estate agents are all cunts and can die. 

Living in Mitte

The only real exception to the above is Schönhauser Allee, although personally, I prefer to class it as Mitte. Mitte literally means “middle”, and that’s exactly what it is. There are parts of Mitte that suck up tourists like a gigantic laughing hoover, and there are bits that are pleasant enough to spend a day ambling around. The museum quarter is here, as is the main square and the tourist trap.

There’s little reason to head into town on a regular basis, unless you’re the type of twat that buys designer crotch-drop leggings, but will only be happy paying well over the odds, goddammit! In fact, on my little bike ride home the other day, I tried to work out exactly why one would walk into a majority of these shops. It sure as hell wouldn’t be for the clothes, which are about as generic as it gets. Come to Mitte, feel like a tourist. There’s nothing wrong with that from time to time, but I imagine living there would be a little incongruous with the feel of the rest of Berlin.

Sadly for me, I’ve run out of time, and have to get back to my daily grind of mashing out shitty words for shitty people, and generally ruining the Internet for everyone.

Buying a Bike In Berlin?

I have, in my time, lived in Holland for a couple of years. Now, the Dutch are famous for their biking culture, but the reality is that Berliners are waaaay more gay for bikes than the Dutch could ever be.

It was with some reluctance that I submitted to an overwhelming pressure to buy a bike. Around here it’s kind of like not having genitals: you can’t really have fun without them. Buying a new bike is reasonably cheap here, and but obviously down to how much you want to pay. Second-hand bikes, however, are ten a euro-cent, and appear on Craigslist on a daily basis. I couldn’t really find anywhere better than that to buy one. Within a week of checking here, I was in possession of 50 Euros worth of pushbike, or fahrrad, if you speak the lingo. Indeed, I decided to get straight into the Berlin spirit and get a beer for the ride home (complete with a rollie hanging out of my mouth), and subsequently bring myself about as close to death as I like to get on a Sunday afternoon.

Bikes in Berlin are pretty much essential, and the infrastructure is here to allow you to get pretty much anywhere you want under your own steam. My only real problem is the omni-present fear of death. But ho-hum, we all have our issues.  In reality, the place is pretty safe for cyclists. I’ve only seen one guy stack it, and that was into a pedestrian on a Saturday night.

To be honest, if there’s a point to this post, it’s not that you need a bike, rather to point out that the Berlin integrated transport system is actually pretty shit. I guess it has something to do with the east/west business, but the tube map looks like it’s been designed by this lady, and as for the tram system, well, if it ever bloody worked, it might be okay.

This has a wider point than merely my griping on the subject of public transport. The Berlin transport system’s “It’ll get you there… eventually” attitude means it’s hugely important to choose where you live very carefully, unless you want to spend a lot of time waiting around for trams to take you to the wrong place. A lot of people come to Berlin to have a bit of fun. Indeed, the podgy, walking stereotype of a Spaniard I bought my bike from came here for a month’s holiday, and she’s by no means alone. The chances are that if you’re reading this, you’ll be thinking about coming to Berlin – so do your research.

Berlin’s various areas – Mitte, Fredrichshain, Kreuzberg etc… have incredibly diverse atmospheres, attitudes and prejudices. Hopefully I’ll be able to offer my humble opinion in this blog, but one thing’s for sure – you need a bike. 

Tabs and slags

So, I've just told Chris we've got a blog. You may not know Chris as well as I do, but if you do you'll know that he's a massive great pussy. This I say in an antagonistic way, simply to elicit a response. I'd like to class the following as similarly antagonistic.

1) Tabs: There is no-one on earth that needs that many tabs open at any one time. You don't need them. They are there for security. If you're a naturally insecure person, go buy a fuckin' teddy bear. Suck it's  thumb, stroke its hair, pretend like its mummy, let it touch you in the nice place that you can't tell anyone or they'll take daddy away. I don't give a shit, but understand this at very least  – You don't need that many tabs.  This is one of the few points I will ever make that are borne of pure fact. I am right, you are wrong. Open one – small – window of porn, and achieve!

2) Slags: Now, we've had some issues since moving to Berlin. Some to do with logistics, others to do with the ruthless pseudo-efficiency of the locals, still others based around our combined unawareness of other cultures. I don't pretend to know about German culture, but this I do know: English girls are a bit shit. I've done my best to humour them in the past, but the simple fact is that they're not quite as good as foreign girls. Don't get me wrong, I'll still fingerbang pretty much anything that invades my personal space, but that's not the point. I guess, if I were making a point it would be that English girls are kind of like English kebabs. You know them, you like them, you'll put waaay too much mayonnaise on them when you're drunk, and when you wake up in the morning you feel slightly unpleasant (and the mayo turns into this weird  transparent gloop). Importantly, however, you accept them as a constant... a universal. If you've ever had a German morning kebab, you might understand.

What I tried to say to Chris the other day was that the way English girls work is different to how German girls work. Remember that word: different. He wasn't havin' none of it. He maintained that all girls are alike, and that, and I quote, "They're all here for a reason." Sure, that makes him sound like the biggest rapist in town, but I don't think it was meant that way. As far as I know I'm the only one with a legitimate rape case to be had against me (statutory, btw, so it's all cool, girls ;) I think he just meant that girls are girls and you've gotta suck up all the shit they dish out if you want to get, or keep, your Mars bar well-battered. Sure, thats a 'take', and one that I would agree with if we were in England. We're not though.

We're in a country where you speak to your local kebab vendor, we're in a country where they don't just shout, "CHILLIAGARLK!" at you. These kebab vendors put a little cheese in your kebab, challenging you to come back for more. They ask you how much you won at the fruity (€15 thus far), and say "Naturally," when you ask if you can have a beer, regardless of how drunk you are (very, very drunk).

What I'm trying to say to myself as much as Chris is that shit is different. The feel is different, the language is different, the history is different, the culture is different, the booze is different, the kebabs are different, the musli is different, the fucking bed sheets are different. Why is is so hard to accept that the people are different too?

I don't know who this blog is for. Some have requested it, in fairness, so I'm not sure that it's as vain as I think it might be, but hopefully this will be a place where you can find out about Berlin, and have a laugh at our exploits at the same time.

Viel Spass,

Tom