I Asked An Irishman to Sleep on Top of Me

Let me explain

My first full day in Berlin was spent doing laundry. It was a battle getting one euro coins. In the reception area was a cash machine. You know how I feel about these but I was desperate. I only needed 6–12 euros depending on how big the washing machine and dryer were. 20 euro should be enough. My travel money card was reporting insufficient funds. Surely that’s not right? Plan B was my Qantas money card which up till now I hadn’t used. Incorrect pin! I tried it twice and, afraid to try a third time, retreated to my room.

I found 8 euro in cash. Everything is having to fit in one load. I did it. Put the three single euros in the slot and presto! Nothing! Obviously stressed, I had inserted them into the wrong hole.

I returned to reception where I had been given 6 single euros for my 3 two euro coins, and explained what I had done. She didn’t question me further and gave me more. I guarded these with my life. Back up to the laundry and started the washing machine. Yay! At last! I need a drink.

The Aussies I met last night, Gabriel and Ria, were already there. But the bar didn’t open till 5. Gabe slipped me a drink and then I had the leftovers of a margarita. As soon as the bar opened, I had two glasses of Pinot Grigio. It was happy hour. But I still had laundry to deal with.

Another girl joined us and started chatting. She is from a tiny fishing village in the north of Norway and has come to live in Berlin. She has a beautiful apartment from Saturday but until then is sleeping here in a “pod”. I was taking her to Peppino’s to share a pizza but Ria wanted to try the Vietnamese restaurant next door. Frid and Ria both ordered the duck while I chose prawns for entree and mains. And we kept drinking cocktails and bonded by sharing our sad love stories.

Back to the bar and more drinking. The drinks kept coming. A South African joined us and wanted Frid to live with him until Saturday. She wasn’t keen. An Irish photographer joined us. He’s flying to Hawaii tomorrow. He showed us some of his work. Very talented. He had lived in Queensland for 3 years. We shared our adventures from the times we lived on the Sunshine Coast.

By we sharing, I mean me. I didn’t shut up. I told him stories I had never told anyone before. After many G&Ts, someone offered me a mojito. I didn’t think I liked mojitos but I kept drinking them. My tastes had changed. I was texting some friends back home. I know you should never text people when you’re inebriated. It’s a rule that’s only ended in heartache or heartbreak for me so why did I do it? I don’t know.

Cutting to the chase after all of this sexting and handing my phone to Ria to read the replies, (I didn’t have my glasses with me) which she did rather loudly. Laughter all around.

I thought just one more drink and I’ll head up to bed. It was after 1 am. Another mojito. I don’t know who paid. Not me. (I don’t think.) I then blurted to this lovely talented Irishman with the lilting Irish accent, “Would you like to come and sleep on top of me?”

In his delectable Irish voice, he replied, “After hearing all of your stories, I don’t think so.”

OMG what had I told him? I meant the bunk on top of me, but he was probably wiser than his years and not nearly as drunk as me, because honestly, I couldn’t guarantee I wouldn’t climb that ladder for a bit of fun.