#day46 – a honest contact ad

Do you know these honest contact ads in NEON magazine? They are not normal contact ads. You have to reveal your quirks. I write my own today. In case you want to get in touch, please write me an e-mail with photo.

I don’t have to mention, but don’t take it to serious.



Age: 29; Height: 1.60 meters (with shoes); Residence: Berlin

Always: Kotti, Michael Jackson, wise citations, Gin Basil Smash

Never: Alexanderplatz, winter, sushi, endless Youtube-sessions

My friends say: over-motivated, gullible, fangirlish

Boredom is unhealthy. I’m pretty sure. An evening on the couch can be nice – once a year. The other 364 days in year I want to get entertained. The sky is the limit. The crazier the better. Before I go out for crazy freetime activities, my apartment has to be in best order. No clothes outside the wardrobe, all things on my desk in a right angle, the coverlet over my bed and the couch pillows shaken out. Everything wonderful sorted.

Because I’m always on the go, I don’t know one single series. Except Unsere kleine Farm and Full House. Oh, and Bill Cosby Show of course. But it’s not acceptable to say that anymore. Without Netflix and a laptop, which allows me streaming, it’s hard to get captured in the world of series. I’m as well the only person on earth, who can’t laugh about Stromberg. I was sitting in the cinema, observing the ceiling, while everyone was holding their belly with tears of joy in their eyes. I’m pretty good in crying when watching movies. Mrs. Doubtfire affected me directly in the heart. Robin Williams in general. He owes me tons of tissues. God rest his soul! And Forrest Gump. Oh Jesus! I’ve seen this movie already 3 million times. And still, when Forrest asks “Is he dumb?” it feels like someone is pulling out my heart, throwing it on the floor and dancing Twist on it.

Apropops dumb. The genitive-dative-weakness. I have it as well. It’s not my only grammatical error. I say pretty funny things. People don’t believe me, but it’s dialect. Thuringian dialect. We’re not silly. We just chose another way of speaking. That’s brave.

And I’m really brave as far as I’m at the haircutter or I have to try drugs. I have the same – exactly the same – haircut since I’m 9. 20 years of long golden hair. 5 centimeters shorter? Forget it, honey! Smoking a joint isn’t possible as well. I was many times shortly before, the cigarette already on my lips. I couldn’t did it. A bit dry grass scares the shit out of me. Let’s drink off a bottle of gin instead, baby!

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