Sexpat and the City: And we frolicked about in our summer skin

by Mr. Sexpat

Mr. Sexpat is a twentysomething English expat living, and occasionally loving, in Berlin. Join us as we follow him into the seamy underbelly of the city’s single scene.

“Dear Summer,

How have you been? It’s been many months since I last saw you and I find myself thinking of you often.

I thought I saw you one afternoon last week in Prenzlauer Berg, but when I asked your cousin Winter if you were in back in Berlin she just shrugged. She said you that you guys hadn’t spoken for years and how you’re full of hot air or something…

I’m okay. I’ve been “writing” for some crummy expat blog while trying to get laid – without much success. So pretty much the same as ever, I guess. But I still feel guilty about how we left things last year.

Looking back I realise that I didn’t appreciate you as much as I should have, in the short time that you were around. When you were last in Berlin I was either asleep all day or hungover or whatever… I completely forgot what a great wingman you can be! With your cousin around girls wear far too many layers so I can’t really get a good idea of their physique – and by “physique”, I of course mean tits. Then she’ll say that I shouldn’t be so sexist and objectify women like that.

“It’s what’s inside that counts,” Winter tells me.

“I know,” I reply. “That’s why I’m trying to get inside somebody!”

Don’t get me wrong, I do really like your cousin but you know she can be a total bummer sometimes. She’s just so… cold.

You’ve got to come back soon right? All my female friends think you’re really hot; just the other day one of them asked when I thought you’d be back. When you’re around all the Gorgonites go back to their caves and the hot dames return, gliding in from The Baltic Sea aboard gigantic, gleaming sea oysters pulled by three and a half thousand pygmy unicorns.

If you do come back soon I promise to make more of an effort with you. There are a ton of festivals I want to attend, and we can go on that weekend mini-break to Hamburg we talked about. (I hear the talent there is exquisite… perhaps because it’s that much closer to Scandinavia?) We’ll finally go to Wansee, walk around for hours and hours, and talk about any boring shit you like…

Like I said, it would be great to see you again so, if you’re not still mad at me, give me a shout when you get back. I really miss you and Berlin just isn’t the same without you.

Lots of love,

Mr. Sexpat

PS Spring tells me you should call her asap, you still owe her 20€.”

The sky over Berlin

cicciostoky, The sky over Berlin, via Flickr, Creative Commons Attribution

Sexpat and the City: Cause when it comes to love I stay sharp, cool and collected…

by Mr. Sexpat

Mr. Sexpat is a twentysomething English expat living, and occasionally loving, in Berlin. Join us as we follow him into the seamy underbelly of the city’s single scene.

“LARGE SCREAM! It’s the first year in ages that I’ve been single; single and in Berlin! Enter slightly agitated emoticon stage left. This is the one day of the year dedicated to that crazy little thing called Love (and to emptying your wallet). But worry not – for I am about to advise a number of people I have never met how to survive Valentine’s Day based on nothing more than common sense and crushing narcissism.

In a relationship? Either you leak currency all over your loved ones or face potentially fatal levels of passive-aggressive psychological warfare. “But wait!”, you exclaim. “I just handed all my money to some fat, pissed prick in a red suit not more than a month ago!” My advice, mate, is never argue with winged men-children wielding a bow and arrow. Also, always check if anyone nearby can also see said flying Roman deity before replying…

Love is in the Air

Currently single or “it’s complicated” (not a real thing)? Things shouldn’t appear quite as bleak as they probably really are, because – thank Eros – Berlin clearly doesn’t give two flying heart-shaped shits about February 14th! Not just because it’s a massive waste of effort and money but it’s also quintessentially un-Berlin. Case in point: not one single person in the German office I occasionally pretend to work in is celebrating or even thinking about V-Day. Meanwhile, walk down any high street in the UK and it suddenly becomes imperative that you spend at least 100 English dollars on reminding your loved ones that you remembered that you should remind them to remember that you love them very very much.

The closest I’ve come to witnessing any kind of romance in Berlin is on a small patch of grass in Tiergarten frequented by naked men. Don’t believe me? How about a hot date with a sexy doner in Hermannplatz watching homeless people pass out in portable toilets with needles sticking out of their arms? This city was built on Sex & Drugs, not Ro & Mance.

So, single Berliners, what are we going to do while the balls and chains of the city loudly exchange mouth DNA on various mode of transport? As in any capital city, the lonely hoards are paying more rent and taxes and not getting laid frequently enough – they must be entertained! For instance, you could go sit in a bar, get drunk, take some rotter home and “fuck the pain away”. Or why not paint your bathroom windows black, kill the lights, blindfold yourself in a cold tub full of ice and wait until morning comes? You’ll be saving countless Euro Pounds by not plying someone you’ve already seen naked 7,822 times before with toxic amounts of alcohol just to see if their legs will bend an extra two inches further behind their head.

For those that are perfectly happy with their partner and are planning to make everyone else feel totally shit about it, why not buck the trend? Instead of letting-him-or-her-do-that-thing-he-or-she-likes once a year take pity on a desperate, lonely pal and treat them to a trip to the movies. Head down to the state-of-the-art (plug!) English language CineMaxx in Potsdamer Platz. The last slushy film I saw there contained scenes of anal rape, patricide and incest. Well romantic.

How about some Tuesday group ping pong action at Dr.Pong in Prenzlauer Berg or some sociable spitting off the Warschauer Bridge? Whatever you do, let’s not forget that the real point of Valentine’s is proclaiming your love to an unsuspecting crush who may not know – or even want to. Why not throw caution to the Windgeschwindigkeit and mail that Fraulein what makes your heart flutter a nice, big origami penis? She’ll know who it’s from.

Me, I’ll be taking the night off from trawling the Berlin streets for vagina and sitting in bed watching Say Anything – which is ten times cheaper and 10 million times more romantic than getting drunk and pulling some rotter just to “fuck the pain away”.

Failing that, do you think it will be too cold for a late night trip to Tiergarten?”

Sexpat and the City: God knows what we’re doing here….

by Mr. Sexpat

Mr. Sexpat is a twentysomething English expat living, and occasionally loving, in Berlin. Join us as we follow him into the seamy underbelly of the city’s single scene.

“Before we begin today’s lesson let me say two words in a certain order. Maybe you can come back in a few weeks if it’s all a bit too hard to comprehend. Ahem…

Fucking internet dating.

Okay! Those of you still left, I apologise in advance for exposing the abject loneliness which leads you to use our beloved Internet as some modern day pimping machine. Believe me, I understand. Your MacBook longs to one day grow up to become Skynet, not OK C.O.M.P.U.T.E.R. But before you enter your credit card details for a 16.5% stronger chance of finding “love” in your “area” I have a plan to annihilate this insipid purveyor of hope. First, let me write a few paragraphs about my second favourite thing after sex: myself.

I recently joined an internet dating site one lonely drunken night and thus began wasting many bleak hours (while wasted) looking for love. Ironically, this time could have better spent on the streets of the German capital actually meeting other people in beer-related social situations. As one moustached lothario famously said, “It is but a fool that joins an internet dating service for free and then complains about it you cheap, desperate git.”

But why do we waste precious hours filling out various quizzes, nudging attractive maybes or clicking on profiles for people who we normally wouldn’t consider sexing even after a ten year stint in Papillon?

NOTE: I appreciate that some of you out there might not have Good Looks high on your criteria for potential life partners. Personally I’m tragically superficial and will let something like one eye or third degree burns sway me somewhat away from a girl. Have we not invented an ugly button on these sites yet? Just saying.

überlin at the Computer Games Museum

Oh yeah I asked a question didn’t I? Damn you A-Level English. Well I don’t know about any of you lot, but just waiting for one little poke, wink, message or absurd proposition of intercourse on these sites is akin to a heroin addict queuing outside the job centre every fourteen days…

Anyway! Once you receive a polite mail from Bunny11 (daddy issues) or LonelyBerliner_666 (self-harmer) you enter into a waiting game while each person tries to avoid being the first to suggest actually meeting up, or worse, one week later your intended either loses interest or realises you’re probably a total pillock for trying to meet people online. YOU CAN’T WIN!

But wait, earlier I mentioned a plan (GCSE English Lit).

Berlin is a lonely city, I know, but you’re only making it lonelier by sitting in your room writing to people you’ll never meet. The less of YOU to look at online means more of THEM on the streets! So join me my single brethren in taking back the streets from the Internet and it’s gorgeous, simple lies. This strategy is so faultless it took me ONE SINGLE SECOND to think of! Take your eyes from your computer screen (but not yet, I haven’t finished!), round up your mates – but not too many couples ’cause right now they’re your Kryptonite – and let’s subject this city to all-out sexual armageddon!

There will be no more “winking”. We shall burn the Quick Match at the stake and eviscerate all quizzes. Women under 40! You’re gorgeous, funny and clearly missing out on a shed load of cock so approach a guy you like the look of. He’ll bloody love it, and if he doesn’t then stop going to bars in Mitte. Men! You have stomachs, facial hair and a deep-seated suspicion of change. Stop lying about your interests cause that’s for interesting people. You know what you want. You want what the other lot want; to talk about movies, laugh and see someone else naked.


So delete that Match.com, eharmony or Office Angels profile and get in that bar, house party or Späti. When we’re done Berlin will have seen more consensual sex than it has since David Hasselhoff stood on a wall and had bottles of piss thrown at him.

Condom sales will rise… RISE I tell you!”

Sexpat and the City: Some people wear gloves…

by Mr. Sexpat

Mr. Sexpat is a twentysomething English expat living, and occasionally loving, in Berlin. Join us as we follow him into the seamy underbelly of the city’s single scene.

“Berlin is a city at odds with those that visit and with those that stay. Berlin is a city for those lost and found, and the rest of us somewhere in-between. Berlin is for many things and for many people. What Berlin is not for is lovers. That is a fucking joke.

Having spent a good amount of the last year single, not-so-single and getting the occasional rub up in and around different bar stools, I have found myself at the dregs of 2011 the most utterly unsexed, ungroped and unsnogged since I first entered the eternal cagefight with the opposite sex.

Let me share a little secret: be it boy, girl, hipster, pug, gallery owner, electro DJ, promoter, office manager, toilet cleaner, bar owner, magazine editor, intern, student, protestor, database manager or smelly Sternburg prince; in Berlin you are either hopelessly in love or most weeknights alone, hopelessly self-involved with your right hand. There is a myth (no doubt created by a totally loved-up “bi-curious” “blogger” sat in a “cafe” somewhere, Skyping to their mates back home that they’re either a) “knee deep in German clunge” or b)”living with a performance artist called Greg”) that the streets of Berlin are awash with free pussy and/or dick. I am here to tell you (left) hand on heart that it’s not.

You can expect to spend your first months in Berlin wandering aimlessly about, too shitfaced to even see let alone meet someone, before that sinking feeling kicks in. Why are all your friends a) depressingly relationshipped or b) achingly single? Where are those poor, deluded first pangs of affection for a guy/gal/pug? Why is everyone in this cafe one half of a couple?! Bitch please, you made the one and only mistake you can make in Berlin – thinking that this city likes you.

Berlin doesn't love you

antjeverena, “Berlin doesn’t love you”, via Flickr, Creative Commons Attribution

Berlin, the poor guy (come on, the TV Tower is clearly not a clit!), has had a tough bloody time of it over the last century and he doesn’t want you falling in love and creating more idiots to gurn in future Photoautomats. “But you’re wrong,” I hear you object. “I know lots of people who are getting laid and having a great time!” You’re missing the point. These people are free-love scum and will be destroyed as nuclear level crabs devour them from the inside out.

As I and the rest of the great unwashed ride this rollercoaster of a city, we wonder how the fuck are we going to meet anyone normal enough, good looking enough, to chat and maybe even have a relationship with. “Oh but the grass is always greener, blah blah more fish in the sea…” Well most of the fish in the Spree are vegetarian, political and much much more beautiful than you or I pal- so take your outdated notion of free love and get to the back of the queue. Some of us have been waiting a lot longer than you.

I hereby declare 2012 the year of the single Berliner! Raise your contraceptive device high boys! We’re going the find some thumbs to crawl under!”