German Exchange (of saliva)
The year is 2003. I am fifteen and of course a raging bag of hormones.

I've been packed off to Cologne for a week of living on the lakeshore with a boy named Freddy, who is obsessed with Coke. He literally had a full size Coke fridge in his room, and thousands of pounds worth of antique Coke signs, model Coke trucks, the works. He was ace, as he looked like shaggy from Scooby Doo; but I didn't flirt with him.

A week of day trips ensues, the highlight being the Affenberg, or Monkey Mountain, full of angry little monkeys with a deep hatred of english people. I didn't flirt with them either.

The evenings are basically full of booze. German teenagers let off steam much the same as english ones do, albeit with less stabbing and more hanging around on picturesque lakeshores with campfires and weed. One night we have a full on beach party, big fire, logs to sit on, beer cooling in the lake. Our group of 20 English and 20 Germans is merrily getting tanked, and chatting bilingual shit. Somebody dares me to chat up a gorgeous yet slightly terrifying gothic German girl. she was tall, had cascades of jet black hair, massive eyes, and fuck-me lips. I remember the fuck-me lips especially. I flirted with her! (Sort of)

I merrily trundle over, trying not to trip over sand (drunk, remember?) and say loud enough for the whole group of eight Germans she's sitting with to hear: "Hi! Is it true that all goths are lesbians?".

Silence. She freezes the blood in my veins while simultaneously giving me a boner just by existing. And possibly staring at me in disgust. It dawns on me that she's not understood a word I've said, apart from "Hi!" I am very relieved, and am about to make my hasty retreat, shame mostly averted but dare successful.

One of her friends translates for me... and asks for exact clarification... my shame circuitry really kicks in and I start stammering out some terrible excuse like "I I I It's just m m m my friend s s s said that they a a are", fully expecting to be stabbed to death by a spiky metal bracelet/throttled by a studded belt.

Goth girl laughs, takes me by the hand, drags me into a bush and proves my hypothesis to be wrong. Very wrong. Freddy the Coke loving bastard interrupts us to say we had to go. I could have lost my virginity to a stunning yet utterly terrifying girl on a lake shore by firelight. Instead I lost it two years later in a bunk bed.

Fuck Coke and all collectors of it.
(ElectricSexPants would like to be the Sultan of something, Fri 19 Feb 2010, 13:45, Reply)