My latest birthday (today) has got me thinking of love (or lust) lost. Birthdays, after all, tend to represent memory checkpoints. And being happily paired up does not a Spotless Mind, or Eternal Sunshine, make.

The VHS that’s my brain rewinds back nearly half my life so far, to my 18th birthday. The scene is my family home in a southern Florida suburb. I exploited parental absence (gone abroad) to fool around with my 20-year-old boyfriend and watch Moulin Rouge on repeat in the living room. Maybe we even tried to act out its soundtrack – I’m not sure, but that’s how I’d rather remember it.

I was ecstatic, but painfully insecure. We’d break up, inevitably, within the year.

As I desperately tried to recreate that first love, my next six birthdays featured a slew of serial monogamist ventures, or as a childhood friend likes to call it, “micro relationships.”

Those years marked what I see as my period of sort of being Estella. I had a consumerist compulsion towards relationships that did stem from lovesickness, but also from a voracious sex drive, immaturity, and being raised in a narcissistic environment. I wouldn’t grasp that until my mid-20s, and kept putting myself and others through wild mood swings and volatile behavior.

On my 25th birthday, the thus far unexplained feeling of emptiness remained in my entrails. My stomach kept acting up from all the previous nights’ drinking, so I opted for cola… with rum. I sang karaoke with my then-boyfriend and his friends, in urban southern North Carolina, where I’d moved for a job. We didn’t fight that night (for a change), but it wasn’t the happiest of birthdays, either.

I was not ecstatic, but was still painfully insecure. We’ve break up, inevitably – for the third or fourth time.

Turning 26 was different. The collapse of yet another relationship had led me to seek out therapy, and I began to replace infatuation with another addiction: travel. I spent Christmas and 12 January in Madrid, partying with a friend and hostel buddies – no family or potential boyfriends in sight.

It was the advent of shunning stability, which has its up- and downsides, of course.

Turns out I’d spend my following eight birthdays in Europe, after moving here. In Copenhagen, Wroclaw, Leipzig, Dublin, Berlin, Madrid once again (at the airport, by chance, with a longtime friend also born on 12 January). Meanwhile, boyfriends or love interests increasingly became part of the celebration, rather than the chief reason to celebrate. There were friends and exciting surroundings I also very much treasured.

A partner cannot possibly play every role, and cannot be one’s gauze, drug, or air – I hoped I hadn’t realized that too late to change myself. The ones who didn’t understand came to correspond to the parts of myself I no longer wanted or needed – i.e. anxiety, jealousy, possessiveness, emotional manipulation – and we eventually became strangers. I’m now actually relieved to be celebrating birthdays without them.

On my 30th birthday, my younger boyfriend spelled out our relationship’s doom. We’d flown in from different cities and met up at Dublin airport, for a whirlwind evening hitting Temple Bar. As we’d rested our rucksacks on the ground and sat down amid throbbing club music, he pronounced: “I don’t think I can be with you long-term if you continue traveling the way you do.”

But travel… travel is like oxygen.

I was not at all ecstatic, but was a little less insecure (at least about the “me” I strove for). We’d break up, inevitably, within the year – after my next trip to southern Africa.

On my birthdays since then, there has always been a trip on the horizon.

There has also been the knowledge of innocence lost, regarding both myself and those who’ve composed and shaped my mosaic. But through all the trouble it takes to be authentic, and the lingering freakouts, I’ve now found mutual acceptance with someone. Was starting to think that wouldn’t be possible.

I turned 31 at the first anti-Legida demonstration, which we attended with friends. The following year, he and I woke up very early to hit some massive water slides in Berlin, until it was dark again outside. Giggling like kids again.

I suspect this 12 January will involve quite a bit of silliness. But in a good way.

The post The boyfriends of birthdays past appeared first on The Leipzig Glocal.

Our guest writer Elizabeth Ferguson talks about her feelings for Leipzig and Paris. Was it love at first sight? Read and find out. (Part of our #LOVEzig special series leading up to Valentine’s Day next Sunday.)

By Elizabeth Ferguson

Admittedly, it has been many years since I have really been in Paris, since spending time in the Air France airport lounge staring at the tarmac cannot qualify. Walking along Montmartre watching artists paint, getting lost in tiny alleys around the Opera house, or smelling the stench of Metro stations near the Seine: that’s my Paris. Albeit I was young during my high school exchange there, I do recall a certain emotional stirring, and after visiting at least four other major European cities in three other counties, I can’t say that any other city brought back echos of those adventures. That is, not until my first visit to Leipzig.

When I arrived in Leipzig, people asked me if I had fallen in love with it on my first visit, or told me about it evoking this emotional connection causing them to fall in love with it. I did not particularly understand this reaction. I do not necessarily form emotional attachments to buildings or streets. My connectedness in Germany (associated in Frankfurt with being near my mother’s family) came from having support and people who cared about me. It came from understanding and fitting into the cultural values and framework of my heritage, much more so than I was ever able to connect with the Parisiennes, since I never understood the philosophical esotericism or dark cynical view I associated with Sartre.

However, the image of Paris being this place of awakening emotion and learning to live has long been explored in literature and cinema. In Sabrina, Audrey Hepburn says, “[Paris} is for changing your outlook… For throwing open the windows and letting in ‘la vie en rose’”. That song, I admit, I also never understood, and if I were to make a list of my most emotionally evoking songs from French culture, it would not be on it. What is it that brings about this emotional awakening? If merely a contrast in the European laissez-faire lifestyle, why are the other major European cities like Amsterdam, Frankfurt, Munich, and London, not described with the same passion, the same essence of emotional awakening?

During my first month in Leipzig, a friend asked me if Leipzig reminded me of Paris, and I admitted the few moments where I had noticed similar moments in the city’s layout which evoked those early memories from Paris. All of this was before I was aware of Leipzig’s reputation as “Little Paris”, apparently a designation given by Goethe himself. However, after centuries of change, how can a city which was destitute just 30 years ago evoke these strong emotional reactions, the like of which I only see in people’s encounters with Paris?

One day on a long walk through the winding parks of Leipzig, I rounded a corner as I approached the city center and had a moment of awe. Ahead was a monumental architectural gem made of stones that were bigger than me. Was it the contrast of landscape and sky? Goethe was not the 18th century German writer which came to mind, but Kant, who argued that while feelings of enjoyment are subjective, there is a difference in quality between the mere enjoyment of something of beauty and a reaction towards the sublime which evokes enjoyment with horror – whether it is melancholy or quiet wonder.

Perhaps these moments which the city creates in its layout, its landscape and architecture have qualities which Paris has as well, reaching a deeper level of emotion. Historically, Leipzig was also a centre of culture for Germanic countries, and in its modern form boasts rich artistic communities and heritage, and has been home to many of the world’s prolific and renowned contributors to the evolution of music. Perhaps these elements all lend themselves to the overall aura of Leipzig, making the layers of impact monumental.

Not to mention the intricate maze-like structure of Hofs, which could make Leipzig the next ideal place for romance to happen when ducking out of the rain. Sabrina said that Paris was never to be explored carrying an umbrella. However, I’ve experienced romance in three of Germany’s major cities, but never Paris, so I cannot vouch for its reputation as the most romantic city in the world.

The post #MyLeipzig #LOVEzig: Love at first sight? appeared first on The Leipzig Glocal.

Don’t want to wait til the weekend to get next to that potential someone special? Here are some comprehensive date ideas for every day of the week. Keep in mind that these are things I’d personally enjoy doing and have tried out myself or heard about from friends – someone else may tell you something completely different, of course.

Monday: 

It’s a good evening to explore the east side of town, in a chilled-out way, before you decide if you want to take it up a notch and extend the date into trying out your pipes together. Say what? Yes. Start out by going to get a burger and drink at the Biergarten/bar Substanz (as long as it’s not too crowded – if it’s too crowded, you can try the Brauereilokal Hopfenspeicher nearby). If you get there at or shortly after 6 p.m., when they open, that will give you more than an hour for a warm-up and chat before heading to the movie theater. (I’m still a fan of the movie theater date. Though you shouldn’t talk during the movie, the experience provides an opportunity to “accidentally” touch your date and a topic to discuss afterwards.) Regina Palast, a mere 500 meters away from Substanz, shows new releases in English every Monday at 8 p.m. – so you can check out our list of movie showtimes in the original ahead of time to see what’s on. Monday is also *drumroll*… karaoke night in Leipzig. So for after the movie, you can choose between Zum Kakadu and Flowerpower – both close to the city center – if you want to put your (singing) pipes to work, have some fun into the later hours, and witness some funny, weird, random stuff going on.

Tuesday:

Want a more, say, upscale date? Head over to the super-chic, but not all-around-pricey, Chocolate (Bar Grill Dinnerclub) for a large array of drinks and a food menu that includes steak and burger samplers (which is what caught my eye)… plus some non-meat items, I’m sure. From 8:30 p.m. on Tuesdays, you can find live jazz in the basement of the nearby café/restaurant Telegraph, where I personally spent one of my most pleasant evenings in Leipzig. You can look at the Jazzclub Live calendar to see what’s coming up at Telegraph and elsewhere in town holding live jazz sessions – and other lively music – for the coming weeks.

Wednesday:

If you’re in the mood for experiencing some art & culture with your date, Wednesdays are a good day for it. The Gallery for Contemporary Art (GfZK) offers free admission every Wednesday, and is open until 7 p.m.; other museums in Leipzig offer free entry on select Wednesdays each month, while some others are always free (you can look that up on our “museum days for free” list). If you get a chance, be sure to stop by the Gallery’s Café bau bau for a before- or after-chat and coffee and cake together – a suggestion of our events expert Marjon. You can extend the evening by walking over to the famous Moritzbastei (700 meters away) for some drinks and whatever they’ve got on that particular night (they’ve got a packed music and nightlife calendar).

Thursday:

My favorite day of the week for “happy hour” is Thursday – getting pumped up for Friday and the weekend, but not quite there yet. So you can start earlier, and take your date to Karl-Liebknecht-Str. (Karli). You can get discounts on drinks at more than one spot on Karli: like 4.50 euros for any cocktail at tiefblau and two cocktails for the price of one at La Boum. After hanging out at the “happy hour” place for a couple hours, if you have no set plan, you can decide whether to end the date there or go on to dinner (good for a first date when you don’t yet know the person and are not sure how it could go). You have lots of options for food in the same area of Karli: like Acapulco for Mexican, Pata Negra for Spanish tapas and Safran for Indian. If the date’s going really well, you can go watch a movie or show and have another drink at die naTo a few steps away.

Friday: 

How about an evening of performing arts… in Lindenau? maeshelle, our #ArtsAndCulture editor, suggests you choose among a concert or play at Neues Schauspiel, a musical or operetta at Musikalische Komödie, or a dance performance at The Lofft to take your date to. You can have a drink at any of those places and also nice food at The Lofft, or go to Café Westen for dinner and drinks.

Saturday: 

maeshelle and I recommend that you start your date early and go to Spinnerei in Plagwitz, where art galleries open at 11 a.m. and stay open until at least 3 p.m. You may want to try Kunstkraftwerk afterwards for some more culturally diverse exhibits – when there’s an exhibit on, it’s open until 6 p.m.  When you’re finished gallery-browsing, head over to Karl-Heine-Str. for something sweet at Café Albert, or walk a little farther to Café KH70 for what maeshelle calls “the best French fries in town… with mango curry sauce.” If you don’t want the date to end (perhaps ever, because this can turn into a marathon), you can go to Schaubühne Lindenfels for a live performance or movies, and drinks and some more food (in case you’re still hungry). For yummy cocktails and a kissy cozy atmosphere: Go to Tacoholics. The people working there can recommend you a party to go to if you’re not ready to take your date home yet.

Sunday:

Hopefully you’ll be waking up next to your date by now – if not, you can still meet up for brunch. My recommendation is Alex in the city center – plenty of breakfast and lunch food for a very reasonable price. maeshelle’s recommendation is Stelzenhaus in Plagwitz, “where they just keep bringing out different types of food – it’s great… and it’s classy.” But there are many places offering brunch in town, and some people I know also like Luise, for example. If you’d like something to do other than going back to bed and watching a movie online, check out the Opera – they’ve always got something on.

What would your recommendations be? Please leave them in the comments section! Would be nice to have other tips on different areas of town and totally different activities.

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I’d say many of us know how difficult a long-distance relationship can be. Part of being a “nomad” is getting the chance to meet lots of people in different places, and maybe finding love in the process.

We really want to hold on to this love, but it takes so much.

This includes having to find a job that can feed us and hopefully also fulfill us. Preferably, in the same city as our love. (What are the odds?)

Eva and Wolfram are going through this. They are living on separate continents at the moment, but their story gives hope to lovebirds from all over.

Eva came from Taiwan to the Netherlands as an exchange student in 2014. As many of us also choose to do – especially after coming from so far away and wanting to make the most of every minute – she did a bit of backpacking around Europe.

She managed to visit 13 countries in six months.

In Germany, Eva found the chance to combine travel with one of her passions, and went to the Munich Lindy Exchange festival. This is what allowed Eva and Wolfram to cross paths, as they are “both swing dancers,” Eva reveals, adding: “We have been dating since.”

The story continues with Eva visiting Wolfram here in Leipzig, where he’s from:

“He showed me around his city, a lovely place with graffiti, beautiful architecture, forest and parks across the whole town, rivers and canals. It feels like a vibrant city that mixes the old and new, nature and buildings, and most of all: friendly people and a relaxed yet ‘always something going on’ atmosphere.”

She was hooked, but had to go back home to finish her Master’s.

Wolfram followed her a while later and they spent six months together in one place. As their bond intensified, his visa also expired.

Once again, the heart-breaking obstacle of distance reared its ugly head. In their case, a head 9,000 km long.

Besides wanting to be with Wolfram in Leipzig specifically, Eva just doesn’t like the work culture in Taipei:

“People and companies value working much more than living. Working 10 hours a day is really common, and a lot of people are asked to even work more than that. This is not the life I want to live.”

She’s a social media and digital project manager and has been applying for jobs in Germany for several months, without getting through. So she decided to channel her creativity and love into a video and website she hopes will finally reach people who can help her realize her dream of living and working here, and recognize the assets she can bring into their company.

Eva loves the career she’s chosen, and has been growing it with some impressive results.

She “founded the most popular Chinese poetry Facebook page, with more than 210,000 fans,” she says; this led to an art brokering stint and the chance “to refine my skills in social media marketing and brand management.”

Her boyfriend Wolfram has been doing his part by reaching out on the web, spreading her video and promoting her talents.

He wrote to LeipGlo, and that’s how I heard about Eva’s efforts and asked to learn more.

They are happy to share Eva’s story, and ask everyone to spread her video.

“I hope the website and video help me gain some opportunities, to reach out to and connect with creative people,” Eva says. “All I need is a chance to show what I can do!”

To learn more about Eva Lee, visit http://evalee.fabelfabrik.de/.

The post Fighting creatively for love and career abroad appeared first on The Leipzig Glocal.

We’ve suggested you romantic dates for summer and dating itineraries for each day of the week. Now it’s time to tackle winter, which can be a bit trickier – what with slippery sidewalks and times when it snows sideways and into your face. It’s perhaps not so easy to meet people or want to make the effort to carve a romantic connection (or even a path to the bar). But once you’ve obtained the willpower, the digits and the guts, how do you get “Hottie of the Season” to leave the house and share some of their warmth with you?

Here are some ideas for winter-time dates to get you on your way to certain bliss here in frozen – but still grungily sexy – Leipzig.

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Snow walk at Clara Zetkin Park: Note that it’s not “slush walk” or “ice walk.” There should be real snow, of the kind that stays on the ground for a while, rather than a muddy, soggy mess that could kill all romance (e.g. having to concentrate not to fall on your ass, rather than on each other’s words). With that said, a snow walk in the park could be a magical experience under the right conditions, your personal winter wonderland. Be smart and survey the scene beforehand. You get extra points if some flakes, though not too many, are still falling as you walk through with Hottie… preferably holding hands.

Jazz evening: This one is good for dates happening any season, but perhaps especially attractive in winter. To me, sax and winter simply go together somehow. A jazz night out combines a dapple of sophistication with the chance for a nice buzz that may bring you physically closer to each other. Be it a music- or alcohol-induced buzz, or both, it should be just in the right measure so you can still be charming and witty (meaning not too loud and not too drunk). It’s hard to go wrong with live jazz, and you’re in luck: There are regular performances in Leipzig. Check out the Jazzblub Live calendar to see who’s playing where and when.

Movie theaters that double as bars: I am purposely staying away from theater shows and formal music concerts in this post, because I think you should be able to talk to each other as much as possible during the wooing stage. The only exception would be watching a movie (in silence, please) for a maximum of two hours, with also a nice bar in the venue where you can chill before and/or after your date. For this, I recommend either die naTo in Südvorstadt or Schaubühne Lindenfels in Plagwitz. A plus is that they often play movies in the original version. Another is that there’s plenty to do around both of them if you want to venture out there and keep extending your date. There are enough events going on to be spontaneous but not at a loss.

Dancing cheek-to-cheek: There are so many opportunities for couple dancing these days in Leipzig. You can even make the dancing date into regular dates if you decide to take lessons together. But maybe first you’d like to dip your toe in during an evening, and see where it leads. Salsa Tobar, for one, organizes salsa nights on Fridays at Chocolate and Saturdays at Varadero. Barfusz holds a salsa course and party every Wednesday. Salsa Panda gives both salsa and bachata lessons, and is involved in throwing dance and music parties around town via CoraSon Latino. There seems to be a salsa mania going on in Leipzig, but if you prefer other dances, you could try out swing. I heard about SwingConnection from a LeipGlo guest writer who really enjoys the group; they teach lessons as well as organize events, such as Minor Swing every Wednesday at Noels Ballroom. Noels also hosts lindy hop and shag lessons each week. Not into dancing? You can also just watch, and still get some sensual energy flowing.

Ice-skating: It can be fun, and even romantic, if you’ve got the proper clothes and a minimum sense of balance. If one is a better ice-skater than the other, it can also be nice, because hand- and arm-holding will probably be required to remain vertical. (Though, after a while, that can get tiring too.) I know that Eisarena in Taucha is open for public ice-skating in autumn and winter. There’s also an ice-skating rink at Augustusplatz, open 13 January-5 March – along with other winter-themed attractions popping up in the city center.

Vernissages: Art, special events, artist talks, and sometimes free wine and snacks are available at these exhibit openings. An opportunity to broaden horizons, and to impress Hottie by having read up online on the exhibit beforehand. Hopefully Hottie is not an art connoisseur who will call your bluff. In that case, just let Hottie do the talking and imbibe their words. Check out our Openings and Premieres page to get a sense of what’s coming up in Leipzig.

Got any ideas yourself for hot dates in winter? Let us know in the comments section!

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Maybe it’s not a big deal in Germany, but I grew up with Valentine’s Day. If I’m honest, it does bother me that I won’t be getting special attention from a significant other. And even though I don’t consider myself a girlie girl, I do love a good romance.

That’s why I think Valentine’s Day is the perfect time to cuddle up with some chocolate, champagne and a good love story. Here are a couple of my favorite films that have found their way into the public domain.

The Last Time I Saw Paris (1954)

I love Elizabeth Taylor in this. She is breathtakingly beautiful and that allows her character to get away with things she might otherwise be scolded for. Loosely based on F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Babylon Revisited, the film starts as WWII ends. Keep an eye out for our lovely Zsa Zsa who left us over the holidays.

Royal Wedding (1951)

One name: Fred Astaire. He is one of the reasons I love dance. This is the film where he does that fabulous dancing on the ceiling. It also shows why Peter Lawford was so popular. What this film lacks in story, it makes up for in set design and dance.

Charade (1963)

Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn: SWOON. The suspense of this one will have you guessing right up to the last minute. I love the Givenchy skiwear in the first scene and the party games at the bar where people have to pass an orange without using their hands… it’s steamy.

The post Love is a many splendored thing appeared first on The Leipzig Glocal.

A traveling Uno card game that remained unplayed. A guitar given as a gift and refused. A used small shampoo bottle with inscriptions eerily prescient of a lover’s death. A children’s car rescued from the dumpster into a lover’s thankful arms, and later brought here – to the Museum of Broken Relationships.

These diverse objects and many others found in this very special museum in Zagreb come from various parts of the world.

The concept of giving a cathartic shrine to breakups began in the Croatian capital in 2006, and has traveled to other cities in Europe, North and South America, and Asia. Zagreb houses the permanent “global” exhibition.

Our walking tour guide Mia told us that a couple started the exhibit of “broken heart” mementos as sort of a joke, when they decided to end their own relationship but still remained friends. They traveled around with their objects and concept post-breakup, and it caught on and eventually got a nice building in Zagreb.

The sign at the entrance to the Zagreb gallery states:

Our societies acknowledge marriages, funerals, and even graduation farewells, but deny us any formal recognition of the demise of a relationship, despite its strong emotional effect.

Part of the purpose of this ever-growing gallery has been to “bring comfort” not only to those who give over their mementos, but also to the visitors who view them and are reminded that they’re not alone in their pain. Visitors are able to write messages in the guestbook, and in that way, even if they’re not donating an item, share their own experiences as well.

On the museum’s website, people can also share their broken relationship stories or sign up to send an item. They’re also on Facebook.

A description accompanies each of the mementos in the gallery. It gives us a window into the nature and course of each relationship, and a glimpse of how much its demise hurt. One display was literally made of two broken glasses, which the couple once drank from each year on their anniversary to celebrate their lasting love.

Among the stories I think will remain memorable to me is that of a couple that used to randomly find playing cards on the streets and come up with incrementally crazier things to do together based on the cards, within the context of their placement in a deck. Another concerns a long-distance couple that used to tear one leg off a stuffed caterpillar for every time they saw each other – when all legs had been torn off, then they’d start a life together.

Needless to say, neither story ended well. Their respective pivotal objects are on display.

Some cases were brief encounters rather than relationships.

An example of that is a black stiletto that underscores a dominatrix’s unwitting rendezvous with her childhood sweetheart, who had become her client.

A few audio clips and videos are included in the collection. There are also stories of cruel betrayal and violence, including rape. So prepare to go through a whole array of feelings as you browse the collection.

Outside the gallery and into the fresh air, you’ll have plenty to choose from as other activities in Zagreb Upper Town, its lovely neighborhood of winding streets and a medieval feel. You can take your time hanging out there and going to the museum, due to its long opening hours.

The Museum of Broken Relationships is open everyday from 9 am until 9 pm, and until 10:30 pm in the summer months. It usually takes around an hour to see the whole collection. The full entrance fee is 30 kuna, or about 4 euros.

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She looked at her engagement ring and didn’t know what to do.

She’d take it off and put it back on, flick it, spin it on the kitchen table. Thought of melting it in the oven, throwing it out the window, letting it slip through the open drain in the bathroom.

But then, she’d think of the ring as an extension of herself – without which she could no longer imagine herself.

For four years they’d been together, she and her fiancé. Now the wedding was a mere few weeks away. They’d already sent out the invitations, paid for the reception, and planned out their respective “farewell to singledom” parties.

Now she was asking herself whether she really wanted this farewell.

She’d recently been promoted and was going to start traveling for her company. A new and promising job. Her fiancé had a problem with this, had been irritable lately. Told her that it’d be difficult to build a family like that.

She was making more money than he was. Had been meeting many new people who would come to her office, men more charming and successful than her fiancé.

One moment, she’d dream of finding someone who had similar ambitions as she – or at least for her. The next, she’d remember how much she liked her fiancé. And the next, she’d feel suffocated, cornered, trapped, the ring having morphed into the key to life… in prison.

She’d finger-flicked the ring so many times that it’d flown off the table, out of sight.

Calmly, she began to look for it on the kitchen floor. Within two minutes, she wasn’t as calm.

She looked for it under the fridge and the stove. Underneath and on top of rugs, tables and beds in all the rooms. Maybe the ring had suddenly acquired legs. Or maybe she’d lost her mind.

Meanwhile, the couple’s dog was lazily watching the scene from the living room couch.

Shortly after, her fiancé arrived home. He got upset for not finding dinner ready. She hurried to prepare something and ended up burning the food.

Now he didn’t pretend to enjoy the food like he used to in earlier times. He forked it, tried it and slid the plate aside.

Giving her a silent scowl, he went into their bedroom. The dog pricked its ears for a second, then lowered its head back down.

At least he hasn’t noticed the ring is missing, she thought, a tiny bit relieved.

About an hour later, the couple had quietly climbed into their bed, turned away from each other and fallen fast asleep. In the middle of the night, they suddenly woke up to an unbearably foul smell.

Horrified, they found out their dog had defecated on their bed. The dog had never done this before.

Still in a bad mood over the improvised, burnt dinner, and now even angrier, her fiancé got up to fetch toilet paper and clean away the feces. When he scooped up the soft, warm mass, he felt something hard.

It was their engagement ring.

© Ana Beatriz Ribeiro

The post Short story: “The ins and outs of the ring” appeared first on The Leipzig Glocal.

“There’s a love at every corner,” he told me. “You’re on another level for me.”

I had learned over to kiss him and, for the first time since we met, he’d refused.

For him, I was on the level of his closest childhood friend, he continued – whom I had met, along with his whole immediate family, in the intoxicating early days of our relationship.

I now know what he meant, but it’d take me years to fully appreciate it. At the time, I just felt unwanted, unattractive.

I got out of his car, pushed the door shut with a little too much force, and walked away to my car. My skin began to sting from the day at the beach earlier; hair smelled of salt, was rough to the touch, a bit tangled; my pants and top were a bit incongruous. I wondered if that’d played a role in his rejecting me.

He didn’t come after me, and the forlorn dusk in the emptying mall parking lot echoed my internal state.

He and I had ushered each other into adulthood. He’d taken my virginity, taught me to like my body a bit more, sat through and held me tight during my high school graduation. I’d taken him out of a romantic rut, made him want to commit, gave him support as his family situation forced him to quit college abroad where we were and start working for survival.

Ironically, I’d decided to stay abroad largely because of him, and then he ended up having to go back home. I’d let go of an early music career opportunity back in our mutual homeland of Brazil to take entry-level service industry jobs in the U.S. and pursue a college education at the same time, able to cover tuition myself.

Right as I was starting college, we broke up. Although grown-up in some ways, we were still too young and restless.

For a while, we couldn’t let go, though. We continued to see each other unofficially, hopping among the different beds where he happened to be staying during his periods in town.

“…a love at every corner. There’s a love…”

I kept replaying his words in my head as I entered and sit in my car that summer evening, lingering in my parking space long after he’d pulled away from his. I’d followed his car’s rear end with my eyes, its red brake lights at the stop sign, until it disappeared around the bend.

I reached into the compartment between the front seats where I kept a stack of mixed CDs outside their cases. Some were scratched and skipping. All were filled with songs we both liked and shared in our relationship. Most of them, he had introduced me to.

And now I was stuck with more than a hundred songs reminding me of our moments.

I popped in one of the CDs – I don’t recall which – with letters scribbled across it in permanent marker, and closed my eyes. The soundtrack temporarily retrieved me those afternoons and evenings a couple of years back when time seemed to stop.

But it came interspersed with flashes from the more recent afternoons and evenings when part of me couldn’t wait to get out of his bed borrowed from a stranger, and away from his body which now felt like a stranger’s, while the other part of me desperately tried to hang on.

I didn’t understand back then, but I do now. “Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.”

I could only ever have him back the way he was, and I guess myself as well, through certain verses in certain songs.

“There’s a love at every corner.”

I turned the key inside the ignition and checked my phone. A few missed calls and messages.

I’d totally forgotten.

I suppressed a tear as I looked into the rearview mirror and renewed my lip gloss, pressing my lips tightly together. My scalp hurt as I tried to brush my salt-hardened hair with a little too much force.

With the soundtrack still playing, I pulled away from the mall parking lot, on to the next date.

The post “There’s a love at every corner” appeared first on The Leipzig Glocal.

Drape Me

Poem by Gaby Bila-Günther aka Lady Gaby / © Berlin, 2010

In jewels
With all your gentle tools

Drape me

With your eyes
Without blinding me

Drape me

In words
Without them hurting me

Drape me

With affection
Without it spoiling my moods

Drape me

With attention
With borders that can be crossed

Drape me

With love
And I will give it back to you

Drape me

With songs
Without being out of tune

Drape me

With heat
Without explosions

Drape me

With care
Without a strangle

Drape me

With kisses
Without hinges

Drape me

With the world’s beauty
Without its sickness and addiction

Drape me

With your mind
Without doing it all the time

Drape me

Without an end
As I want to walk further

Drape me

With promises
But spare me when they are broken

Drape me

With your sex and lust
But spare me the hate when I have had enough
And I am through with you

More from Lady Gaby

The post Lady Gaby poetry: “Drape Me” appeared first on The Leipzig Glocal.

My latest birthday (today) has got me thinking of love (or lust) lost. Birthdays, after all, tend to represent memory checkpoints. And being happily paired up does not a Spotless Mind, or Eternal Sunshine, make.

The VHS that’s my brain rewinds back nearly half my life so far, to my 18th birthday. The scene is my family home in a southern Florida suburb. I exploited parental absence (gone abroad) to fool around with my 20-year-old boyfriend and watch Moulin Rouge on repeat in the living room. Maybe we even tried to act out its soundtrack – I’m not sure, but that’s how I’d rather remember it.

I was ecstatic, but painfully insecure. We’d break up, inevitably, within the year.

As I desperately tried to recreate that first love, my next six birthdays featured a slew of serial monogamist ventures, or as a childhood friend likes to call it, “micro relationships.”

Those years marked what I see as my period of sort of being Estella. I had a consumerist compulsion towards relationships that did stem from lovesickness, but also from a voracious sex drive, immaturity, and being raised in a narcissistic environment. I wouldn’t grasp that until my mid-20s, and kept putting myself and others through wild mood swings and volatile behavior.

On my 25th birthday, the thus far unexplained feeling of emptiness remained in my entrails. My stomach kept acting up from all the previous nights’ drinking, so I opted for cola… with rum. I sang karaoke with my then-boyfriend and his friends, in urban southern North Carolina, where I’d moved for a job. We didn’t fight that night (for a change), but it wasn’t the happiest of birthdays, either.

I was not ecstatic, but was still painfully insecure. We’ve break up, inevitably – for the third or fourth time.

Turning 26 was different. The collapse of yet another relationship had led me to seek out therapy, and I began to replace infatuation with another addiction: travel. I spent Christmas and 12 January in Madrid, partying with a friend and hostel buddies – no family or potential boyfriends in sight.

It was the advent of shunning stability, which has its up- and downsides, of course.

Turns out I’d spend my following eight birthdays in Europe, after moving here. In Copenhagen, Wroclaw, Leipzig, Dublin, Berlin, Madrid once again (at the airport, by chance, with a longtime friend also born on 12 January). Meanwhile, boyfriends or love interests increasingly became part of the celebration, rather than the chief reason to celebrate. There were friends and exciting surroundings I also very much treasured.

A partner cannot possibly play every role, and cannot be one’s gauze, drug, or air – I hoped I hadn’t realized that too late to change myself. The ones who didn’t understand came to correspond to the parts of myself I no longer wanted or needed – i.e. anxiety, jealousy, possessiveness, emotional manipulation – and we eventually became strangers. I’m now actually relieved to be celebrating birthdays without them.

On my 30th birthday, my younger boyfriend spelled out our relationship’s doom. We’d flown in from different cities and met up at Dublin airport, for a whirlwind evening hitting Temple Bar. As we’d rested our rucksacks on the ground and sat down amid throbbing club music, he pronounced: “I don’t think I can be with you long-term if you continue traveling the way you do.”

But travel… travel is like oxygen.

I was not at all ecstatic, but was a little less insecure (at least about the “me” I strove for). We’d break up, inevitably, within the year – after my next trip to southern Africa.

On my birthdays since then, there has always been a trip on the horizon.

There has also been the knowledge of innocence lost, regarding both myself and those who’ve composed and shaped my mosaic. But through all the trouble it takes to be authentic, and the lingering freakouts, I’ve now found mutual acceptance with someone. Was starting to think that wouldn’t be possible.

I turned 31 at the first anti-Legida demonstration, which we attended with friends. The following year, he and I woke up very early to hit some massive water slides in Berlin, until it was dark again outside. Giggling like kids again.

I suspect this 12 January will involve quite a bit of silliness. But in a good way.

The post The boyfriends of birthdays past appeared first on The Leipzig Glocal.

Don’t want to wait til the weekend to get next to that potential someone special? Here are some comprehensive date ideas for every day of the week. Keep in mind that these are things I’d personally enjoy doing and have tried out myself or heard about from friends – someone else may tell you something completely different, of course.

Monday: 

It’s a good evening to explore the east side of town, in a chilled-out way, before you decide if you want to take it up a notch and extend the date into trying out your pipes together. Say what? Yes. Start out by going to get a burger and drink at the Biergarten/bar Substanz (as long as it’s not too crowded – if it’s too crowded, you can try the Brauereilokal Hopfenspeicher nearby). If you get there at or shortly after 6 p.m., when they open, that will give you more than an hour for a warm-up and chat before heading to the movie theater. (I’m still a fan of the movie theater date. Though you shouldn’t talk during the movie, the experience provides an opportunity to “accidentally” touch your date and a topic to discuss afterwards.) Regina Palast, a mere 500 meters away from Substanz, shows new releases in English every Monday at 8 p.m. – so you can check out our list of movie showtimes in the original ahead of time to see what’s on. Monday is also *drumroll*… karaoke night in Leipzig. So for after the movie, you can choose between Zum Kakadu and Flowerpower – both close to the city center – if you want to put your (singing) pipes to work, have some fun into the later hours, and witness some funny, weird, random stuff going on.

Tuesday:

Want a more, say, upscale date? Head over to the super-chic, but not all-around-pricey, Chocolate (Bar Grill Dinnerclub) for a large array of drinks and a food menu that includes steak and burger samplers (which is what caught my eye)… plus some non-meat items, I’m sure. From 8:30 p.m. on Tuesdays, you can find live jazz in the basement of the nearby café/restaurant Telegraph, where I personally spent one of my most pleasant evenings in Leipzig. You can look at the Jazzclub Live calendar to see what’s coming up at Telegraph and elsewhere in town holding live jazz sessions – and other lively music – for the coming weeks.

Wednesday:

If you’re in the mood for experiencing some art & culture with your date, Wednesdays are a good day for it. The Gallery for Contemporary Art (GfZK) offers free admission every Wednesday, and is open until 7 p.m.; other museums in Leipzig offer free entry on select Wednesdays each month, while some others are always free (you can look that up on our “museum days for free” list). If you get a chance, be sure to stop by the Gallery’s Café bau bau for a before- or after-chat and coffee and cake together – a suggestion of our events expert Marjon. You can extend the evening by walking over to the famous Moritzbastei (700 meters away) for some drinks and whatever they’ve got on that particular night (they’ve got a packed music and nightlife calendar).

Thursday:

My favorite day of the week for “happy hour” is Thursday – getting pumped up for Friday and the weekend, but not quite there yet. So you can start earlier, and take your date to Karl-Liebknecht-Str. (Karli). You can get discounts on drinks at more than one spot on Karli: like 4.50 euros for any cocktail at tiefblau and two cocktails for the price of one at La Boum. After hanging out at the “happy hour” place for a couple hours, if you have no set plan, you can decide whether to end the date there or go on to dinner (good for a first date when you don’t yet know the person and are not sure how it could go). You have lots of options for food in the same area of Karli: like Acapulco for Mexican, Pata Negra for Spanish tapas and Safran for Indian. If the date’s going really well, you can go watch a movie or show and have another drink at die naTo a few steps away.

Friday: 

How about an evening of performing arts… in Lindenau? maeshelle, our #ArtsAndCulture editor, suggests you choose among a concert or play at Neues Schauspiel, a musical or operetta at Musikalische Komödie, or a dance performance at The Lofft to take your date to. You can have a drink at any of those places and also nice food at The Lofft, or go to Café Westen for dinner and drinks.

Saturday: 

maeshelle and I recommend that you start your date early and go to Spinnerei in Plagwitz, where art galleries open at 11 a.m. and stay open until at least 3 p.m. You may want to try Kunstkraftwerk afterwards for some more culturally diverse exhibits – when there’s an exhibit on, it’s open until 6 p.m.  When you’re finished gallery-browsing, head over to Karl-Heine-Str. for something sweet at Café Albert, or walk a little farther to Café KH70 for what maeshelle calls “the best French fries in town… with mango curry sauce.” If you don’t want the date to end (perhaps ever, because this can turn into a marathon), you can go to Schaubühne Lindenfels for a live performance or movies, and drinks and some more food (in case you’re still hungry). For yummy cocktails and a kissy cozy atmosphere: Go to Tacoholics. The people working there can recommend you a party to go to if you’re not ready to take your date home yet.

Sunday:

Hopefully you’ll be waking up next to your date by now – if not, you can still meet up for brunch. My recommendation is Alex in the city center – plenty of breakfast and lunch food for a very reasonable price. maeshelle’s recommendation is Stelzenhaus in Plagwitz, “where they just keep bringing out different types of food – it’s great… and it’s classy.” But there are many places offering brunch in town, and some people I know also like Luise, for example. If you’d like something to do other than going back to bed and watching a movie online, check out the Opera – they’ve always got something on.

What would your recommendations be? Please leave them in the comments section! Would be nice to have other tips on different areas of town and totally different activities.

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I’d say many of us know how difficult a long-distance relationship can be. Part of being a “nomad” is getting the chance to meet lots of people in different places, and maybe finding love in the process.

We really want to hold on to this love, but it takes so much.

This includes having to find a job that can feed us and hopefully also fulfill us. Preferably, in the same city as our love. (What are the odds?)

Eva and Wolfram are going through this. They are living on separate continents at the moment, but their story gives hope to lovebirds from all over.

Eva came from Taiwan to the Netherlands as an exchange student in 2014. As many of us also choose to do – especially after coming from so far away and wanting to make the most of every minute – she did a bit of backpacking around Europe.

She managed to visit 13 countries in six months.

In Germany, Eva found the chance to combine travel with one of her passions, and went to the Munich Lindy Exchange festival. This is what allowed Eva and Wolfram to cross paths, as they are “both swing dancers,” Eva reveals, adding: “We have been dating since.”

The story continues with Eva visiting Wolfram here in Leipzig, where he’s from:

“He showed me around his city, a lovely place with graffiti, beautiful architecture, forest and parks across the whole town, rivers and canals. It feels like a vibrant city that mixes the old and new, nature and buildings, and most of all: friendly people and a relaxed yet ‘always something going on’ atmosphere.”

She was hooked, but had to go back home to finish her Master’s.

Wolfram followed her a while later and they spent six months together in one place. As their bond intensified, his visa also expired.

Once again, the heart-breaking obstacle of distance reared its ugly head. In their case, a head 9,000 km long.

Besides wanting to be with Wolfram in Leipzig specifically, Eva just doesn’t like the work culture in Taipei:

“People and companies value working much more than living. Working 10 hours a day is really common, and a lot of people are asked to even work more than that. This is not the life I want to live.”

She’s a social media and digital project manager and has been applying for jobs in Germany for several months, without getting through. So she decided to channel her creativity and love into a video and website she hopes will finally reach people who can help her realize her dream of living and working here, and recognize the assets she can bring into their company.

Eva loves the career she’s chosen, and has been growing it with some impressive results.

She “founded the most popular Chinese poetry Facebook page, with more than 210,000 fans,” she says; this led to an art brokering stint and the chance “to refine my skills in social media marketing and brand management.”

Her boyfriend Wolfram has been doing his part by reaching out on the web, spreading her video and promoting her talents.

He wrote to LeipGlo, and that’s how I heard about Eva’s efforts and asked to learn more.

They are happy to share Eva’s story, and ask everyone to spread her video.

“I hope the website and video help me gain some opportunities, to reach out to and connect with creative people,” Eva says. “All I need is a chance to show what I can do!”

To learn more about Eva Lee, visit http://evalee.fabelfabrik.de/.

The post Fighting creatively for love and career abroad appeared first on The Leipzig Glocal.

We’ve suggested you romantic dates for summer and dating itineraries for each day of the week. Now it’s time to tackle winter, which can be a bit trickier – what with slippery sidewalks and times when it snows sideways and into your face. It’s perhaps not so easy to meet people or want to make the effort to carve a romantic connection (or even a path to the bar). But once you’ve obtained the willpower, the digits and the guts, how do you get “Hottie of the Season” to leave the house and share some of their warmth with you?

Here are some ideas for winter-time dates to get you on your way to certain bliss here in frozen – but still grungily sexy – Leipzig.

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Snow walk at Clara Zetkin Park: Note that it’s not “slush walk” or “ice walk.” There should be real snow, of the kind that stays on the ground for a while, rather than a muddy, soggy mess that could kill all romance (e.g. having to concentrate not to fall on your ass, rather than on each other’s words). With that said, a snow walk in the park could be a magical experience under the right conditions, your personal winter wonderland. Be smart and survey the scene beforehand. You get extra points if some flakes, though not too many, are still falling as you walk through with Hottie… preferably holding hands.

Jazz evening: This one is good for dates happening any season, but perhaps especially attractive in winter. To me, sax and winter simply go together somehow. A jazz night out combines a dapple of sophistication with the chance for a nice buzz that may bring you physically closer to each other. Be it a music- or alcohol-induced buzz, or both, it should be just in the right measure so you can still be charming and witty (meaning not too loud and not too drunk). It’s hard to go wrong with live jazz, and you’re in luck: There are regular performances in Leipzig. Check out the Jazzblub Live calendar to see who’s playing where and when.

Movie theaters that double as bars: I am purposely staying away from theater shows and formal music concerts in this post, because I think you should be able to talk to each other as much as possible during the wooing stage. The only exception would be watching a movie (in silence, please) for a maximum of two hours, with also a nice bar in the venue where you can chill before and/or after your date. For this, I recommend either die naTo in Südvorstadt or Schaubühne Lindenfels in Plagwitz. A plus is that they often play movies in the original version. Another is that there’s plenty to do around both of them if you want to venture out there and keep extending your date. There are enough events going on to be spontaneous but not at a loss.

Dancing cheek-to-cheek: There are so many opportunities for couple dancing these days in Leipzig. You can even make the dancing date into regular dates if you decide to take lessons together. But maybe first you’d like to dip your toe in during an evening, and see where it leads. Salsa Tobar, for one, organizes salsa nights on Fridays at Chocolate and Saturdays at Varadero. Barfusz holds a salsa course and party every Wednesday. Salsa Panda gives both salsa and bachata lessons, and is involved in throwing dance and music parties around town via CoraSon Latino. There seems to be a salsa mania going on in Leipzig, but if you prefer other dances, you could try out swing. I heard about SwingConnection from a LeipGlo guest writer who really enjoys the group; they teach lessons as well as organize events, such as Minor Swing every Wednesday at Noels Ballroom. Noels also hosts lindy hop and shag lessons each week. Not into dancing? You can also just watch, and still get some sensual energy flowing.

Ice-skating: It can be fun, and even romantic, if you’ve got the proper clothes and a minimum sense of balance. If one is a better ice-skater than the other, it can also be nice, because hand- and arm-holding will probably be required to remain vertical. (Though, after a while, that can get tiring too.) I know that Eisarena in Taucha is open for public ice-skating in autumn and winter. There’s also an ice-skating rink at Augustusplatz, open 13 January-5 March – along with other winter-themed attractions popping up in the city center.

Vernissages: Art, special events, artist talks, and sometimes free wine and snacks are available at these exhibit openings. An opportunity to broaden horizons, and to impress Hottie by having read up online on the exhibit beforehand. Hopefully Hottie is not an art connoisseur who will call your bluff. In that case, just let Hottie do the talking and imbibe their words. Check out our Openings and Premieres page to get a sense of what’s coming up in Leipzig.

Got any ideas yourself for hot dates in winter? Let us know in the comments section!

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Maybe it’s not a big deal in Germany, but I grew up with Valentine’s Day. If I’m honest, it does bother me that I won’t be getting special attention from a significant other. And even though I don’t consider myself a girlie girl, I do love a good romance.

That’s why I think Valentine’s Day is the perfect time to cuddle up with some chocolate, champagne and a good love story. Here are a couple of my favorite films that have found their way into the public domain.

The Last Time I Saw Paris (1954)

I love Elizabeth Taylor in this. She is breathtakingly beautiful and that allows her character to get away with things she might otherwise be scolded for. Loosely based on F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Babylon Revisited, the film starts as WWII ends. Keep an eye out for our lovely Zsa Zsa who left us over the holidays.

Royal Wedding (1951)

One name: Fred Astaire. He is one of the reasons I love dance. This is the film where he does that fabulous dancing on the ceiling. It also shows why Peter Lawford was so popular. What this film lacks in story, it makes up for in set design and dance.

Charade (1963)

Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn: SWOON. The suspense of this one will have you guessing right up to the last minute. I love the Givenchy skiwear in the first scene and the party games at the bar where people have to pass an orange without using their hands… it’s steamy.

The post Love is a many splendored thing appeared first on The Leipzig Glocal.

A traveling Uno card game that remained unplayed. A guitar given as a gift and refused. A used small shampoo bottle with inscriptions eerily prescient of a lover’s death. A children’s car rescued from the dumpster into a lover’s thankful arms, and later brought here – to the Museum of Broken Relationships.

These diverse objects and many others found in this very special museum in Zagreb come from various parts of the world.

The concept of giving a cathartic shrine to breakups began in the Croatian capital in 2006, and has traveled to other cities in Europe, North and South America, and Asia. Zagreb houses the permanent “global” exhibition.

Our walking tour guide Mia told us that a couple started the exhibit of “broken heart” mementos as sort of a joke, when they decided to end their own relationship but still remained friends. They traveled around with their objects and concept post-breakup, and it caught on and eventually got a nice building in Zagreb.

The sign at the entrance to the Zagreb gallery states:

Our societies acknowledge marriages, funerals, and even graduation farewells, but deny us any formal recognition of the demise of a relationship, despite its strong emotional effect.

Part of the purpose of this ever-growing gallery has been to “bring comfort” not only to those who give over their mementos, but also to the visitors who view them and are reminded that they’re not alone in their pain. Visitors are able to write messages in the guestbook, and in that way, even if they’re not donating an item, share their own experiences as well.

On the museum’s website, people can also share their broken relationship stories or sign up to send an item. They’re also on Facebook.

A description accompanies each of the mementos in the gallery. It gives us a window into the nature and course of each relationship, and a glimpse of how much its demise hurt. One display was literally made of two broken glasses, which the couple once drank from each year on their anniversary to celebrate their lasting love.

Among the stories I think will remain memorable to me is that of a couple that used to randomly find playing cards on the streets and come up with incrementally crazier things to do together based on the cards, within the context of their placement in a deck. Another concerns a long-distance couple that used to tear one leg off a stuffed caterpillar for every time they saw each other – when all legs had been torn off, then they’d start a life together.

Needless to say, neither story ended well. Their respective pivotal objects are on display.

Some cases were brief encounters rather than relationships.

An example of that is a black stiletto that underscores a dominatrix’s unwitting rendezvous with her childhood sweetheart, who had become her client.

A few audio clips and videos are included in the collection. There are also stories of cruel betrayal and violence, including rape. So prepare to go through a whole array of feelings as you browse the collection.

Outside the gallery and into the fresh air, you’ll have plenty to choose from as other activities in Zagreb Upper Town, its lovely neighborhood of winding streets and a medieval feel. You can take your time hanging out there and going to the museum, due to its long opening hours.

The Museum of Broken Relationships is open everyday from 9 am until 9 pm, and until 10:30 pm in the summer months. It usually takes around an hour to see the whole collection. The full entrance fee is 30 kuna, or about 4 euros.

The post Zagreb’s gallery of broken hearts appeared first on The Leipzig Glocal.

She looked at her engagement ring and didn’t know what to do.

She’d take it off and put it back on, flick it, spin it on the kitchen table. Thought of melting it in the oven, throwing it out the window, letting it slip through the open drain in the bathroom.

But then, she’d think of the ring as an extension of herself – without which she could no longer imagine herself.

For four years they’d been together, she and her fiancé. Now the wedding was a mere few weeks away. They’d already sent out the invitations, paid for the reception, and planned out their respective “farewell to singledom” parties.

Now she was asking herself whether she really wanted this farewell.

She’d recently been promoted and was going to start traveling for her company. A new and promising job. Her fiancé had a problem with this, had been irritable lately. Told her that it’d be difficult to build a family like that.

She was making more money than he was. Had been meeting many new people who would come to her office, men more charming and successful than her fiancé.

One moment, she’d dream of finding someone who had similar ambitions as she – or at least for her. The next, she’d remember how much she liked her fiancé. And the next, she’d feel suffocated, cornered, trapped, the ring having morphed into the key to life… in prison.

She’d finger-flicked the ring so many times that it’d flown off the table, out of sight.

Calmly, she began to look for it on the kitchen floor. Within two minutes, she wasn’t as calm.

She looked for it under the fridge and the stove. Underneath and on top of rugs, tables and beds in all the rooms. Maybe the ring had suddenly acquired legs. Or maybe she’d lost her mind.

Meanwhile, the couple’s dog was lazily watching the scene from the living room couch.

Shortly after, her fiancé arrived home. He got upset for not finding dinner ready. She hurried to prepare something and ended up burning the food.

Now he didn’t pretend to enjoy the food like he used to in earlier times. He forked it, tried it and slid the plate aside.

Giving her a silent scowl, he went into their bedroom. The dog pricked its ears for a second, then lowered its head back down.

At least he hasn’t noticed the ring is missing, she thought, a tiny bit relieved.

About an hour later, the couple had quietly climbed into their bed, turned away from each other and fallen fast asleep. In the middle of the night, they suddenly woke up to an unbearably foul smell.

Horrified, they found out their dog had defecated on their bed. The dog had never done this before.

Still in a bad mood over the improvised, burnt dinner, and now even angrier, her fiancé got up to fetch toilet paper and clean away the feces. When he scooped up the soft, warm mass, he felt something hard.

It was their engagement ring.

© Ana Beatriz Ribeiro

The post Short story: “The ins and outs of the ring” appeared first on The Leipzig Glocal.

“There’s a love at every corner,” he told me. “You’re on another level for me.”

I had learned over to kiss him and, for the first time since we met, he’d refused.

For him, I was on the level of his closest childhood friend, he continued – whom I had met, along with his whole immediate family, in the intoxicating early days of our relationship.

I now know what he meant, but it’d take me years to fully appreciate it. At the time, I just felt unwanted, unattractive.

I got out of his car, pushed the door shut with a little too much force, and walked away to my car. My skin began to sting from the day at the beach earlier; hair smelled of salt, was rough to the touch, a bit tangled; my pants and top were a bit incongruous. I wondered if that’d played a role in his rejecting me.

He didn’t come after me, and the forlorn dusk in the emptying mall parking lot echoed my internal state.

He and I had ushered each other into adulthood. He’d taken my virginity, taught me to like my body a bit more, sat through and held me tight during my high school graduation. I’d taken him out of a romantic rut, made him want to commit, gave him support as his family situation forced him to quit college abroad where we were and start working for survival.

Ironically, I’d decided to stay abroad largely because of him, and then he ended up having to go back home. I’d let go of an early music career opportunity back in our mutual homeland of Brazil to take entry-level service industry jobs in the U.S. and pursue a college education at the same time, able to cover tuition myself.

Right as I was starting college, we broke up. Although grown-up in some ways, we were still too young and restless.

For a while, we couldn’t let go, though. We continued to see each other unofficially, hopping among the different beds where he happened to be staying during his periods in town.

“…a love at every corner. There’s a love…”

I kept replaying his words in my head as I entered and sit in my car that summer evening, lingering in my parking space long after he’d pulled away from his. I’d followed his car’s rear end with my eyes, its red brake lights at the stop sign, until it disappeared around the bend.

I reached into the compartment between the front seats where I kept a stack of mixed CDs outside their cases. Some were scratched and skipping. All were filled with songs we both liked and shared in our relationship. Most of them, he had introduced me to.

And now I was stuck with more than a hundred songs reminding me of our moments.

I popped in one of the CDs – I don’t recall which – with letters scribbled across it in permanent marker, and closed my eyes. The soundtrack temporarily retrieved me those afternoons and evenings a couple of years back when time seemed to stop.

But it came interspersed with flashes from the more recent afternoons and evenings when part of me couldn’t wait to get out of his bed borrowed from a stranger, and away from his body which now felt like a stranger’s, while the other part of me desperately tried to hang on.

I didn’t understand back then, but I do now. “Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.”

I could only ever have him back the way he was, and I guess myself as well, through certain verses in certain songs.

“There’s a love at every corner.”

I turned the key inside the ignition and checked my phone. A few missed calls and messages.

I’d totally forgotten.

I suppressed a tear as I looked into the rearview mirror and renewed my lip gloss, pressing my lips tightly together. My scalp hurt as I tried to brush my salt-hardened hair with a little too much force.

With the soundtrack still playing, I pulled away from the mall parking lot, on to the next date.

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Drape Me

Poem by Gaby Bila-Günther aka Lady Gaby / © Berlin, 2010

In jewels
With all your gentle tools

Drape me

With your eyes
Without blinding me

Drape me

In words
Without them hurting me

Drape me

With affection
Without it spoiling my moods

Drape me

With attention
With borders that can be crossed

Drape me

With love
And I will give it back to you

Drape me

With songs
Without being out of tune

Drape me

With heat
Without explosions

Drape me

With care
Without a strangle

Drape me

With kisses
Without hinges

Drape me

With the world’s beauty
Without its sickness and addiction

Drape me

With your mind
Without doing it all the time

Drape me

Without an end
As I want to walk further

Drape me

With promises
But spare me when they are broken

Drape me

With your sex and lust
But spare me the hate when I have had enough
And I am through with you

More from Lady Gaby

The post Lady Gaby poetry: “Drape Me” appeared first on The Leipzig Glocal.

My latest birthday (today) has got me thinking of love (or lust) lost. Birthdays, after all, tend to represent memory checkpoints. And being happily paired up does not a Spotless Mind, or Eternal Sunshine, make.

The VHS that’s my brain rewinds back nearly half my life so far, to my 18th birthday. The scene is my family home in a southern Florida suburb. I exploited parental absence (gone abroad) to fool around with my 20-year-old boyfriend and watch Moulin Rouge on repeat in the living room. Maybe we even tried to act out its soundtrack – I’m not sure, but that’s how I’d rather remember it.

I was ecstatic, but painfully insecure. We’d break up, inevitably, within the year.

As I desperately tried to recreate that first love, my next six birthdays featured a slew of serial monogamist ventures, or as a childhood friend likes to call it, “micro relationships.”

Those years marked what I see as my period of sort of being Estella. I had a consumerist compulsion towards relationships that did stem from lovesickness, but also from a voracious sex drive, immaturity, and being raised in a narcissistic environment. I wouldn’t grasp that until my mid-20s, and kept putting myself and others through wild mood swings and volatile behavior.

On my 25th birthday, the thus far unexplained feeling of emptiness remained in my entrails. My stomach kept acting up from all the previous nights’ drinking, so I opted for cola… with rum. I sang karaoke with my then-boyfriend and his friends, in urban southern North Carolina, where I’d moved for a job. We didn’t fight that night (for a change), but it wasn’t the happiest of birthdays, either.

I was not ecstatic, but was still painfully insecure. We’ve break up, inevitably – for the third or fourth time.

Turning 26 was different. The collapse of yet another relationship had led me to seek out therapy, and I began to replace infatuation with another addiction: travel. I spent Christmas and 12 January in Madrid, partying with a friend and hostel buddies – no family or potential boyfriends in sight.

It was the advent of shunning stability, which has its up- and downsides, of course.

Turns out I’d spend my following eight birthdays in Europe, after moving here. In Copenhagen, Wroclaw, Leipzig, Dublin, Berlin, Madrid once again (at the airport, by chance, with a longtime friend also born on 12 January). Meanwhile, boyfriends or love interests increasingly became part of the celebration, rather than the chief reason to celebrate. There were friends and exciting surroundings I also very much treasured.

A partner cannot possibly play every role, and cannot be one’s gauze, drug, or air – I hoped I hadn’t realized that too late to change myself. The ones who didn’t understand came to correspond to the parts of myself I no longer wanted or needed – i.e. anxiety, jealousy, possessiveness, emotional manipulation – and we eventually became strangers. I’m now actually relieved to be celebrating birthdays without them.

On my 30th birthday, my younger boyfriend spelled out our relationship’s doom. We’d flown in from different cities and met up at Dublin airport, for a whirlwind evening hitting Temple Bar. As we’d rested our rucksacks on the ground and sat down amid throbbing club music, he pronounced: “I don’t think I can be with you long-term if you continue traveling the way you do.”

But travel… travel is like oxygen.

I was not at all ecstatic, but was a little less insecure (at least about the “me” I strove for). We’d break up, inevitably, within the year – after my next trip to southern Africa.

On my birthdays since then, there has always been a trip on the horizon.

There has also been the knowledge of innocence lost, regarding both myself and those who’ve composed and shaped my mosaic. But through all the trouble it takes to be authentic, and the lingering freakouts, I’ve now found mutual acceptance with someone. Was starting to think that wouldn’t be possible.

I turned 31 at the first anti-Legida demonstration, which we attended with friends. The following year, he and I woke up very early to hit some massive water slides in Berlin, until it was dark again outside. Giggling like kids again.

I suspect this 12 January will involve quite a bit of silliness. But in a good way.

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