I’m once again on a train to Amsterdam, smelling of sweat, sunscreen, and my favorite perfume. A strong mix that I can’t do anything about at the moment, and I hope the other people on the train don’t mind it. However, sometimes I actually find the smell of store-brand sunscreen even more pleasant than expensive perfume. It’s nearly thirty degrees outside because summer has started off uncertainly in the Netherlands. Uncertain because one day it’s still raining and gloomy, and the next day it’s like today. By now, my sweat has dried due to the train’s air conditioning, which is a lucky thing because I usually ride trains without air conditioning. There’s a woman behind me coughing so loudly that it eventually turns into gagging, but again, there’s nothing I can do about that right now. I looked through the gap between my seats to see if I could help, but to be honest, my first aid certificate expired years ago. Officially, I’m not even allowed to perform the Heimlich maneuver anymore. There’s a chance I might crush the woman’s ribs.
Train rides always calm me down. I actually prefer being on a train to on a plane when I’m traveling. A constant speed with constantly changing views. You’re very aware of the fact that you’re moving and exactly where you’re heading. A purposeful movement with no major deviations, not to mention transportation problems, of course. And with both feet close to the ground, because here I can still escape from situations. High in the air, I can’t do that. Yes, I could open the emergency hatch and jump, but that seems scarier than just gracefully crashing down and vanishing in an instant.
Actually, I can’t really handle long train rides when I’m coming back from a party, because most of the time that party is also in Amsterdam. Which, with a bit of luck, is about a fifty-minute train ride, and if you’re unlucky, it’s over an hour and a half. Then one of my friends falls asleep, and the other one becomes the talker. Which can be nice, you know, someone filling the whole hour and a half with conversation. But it’s more of a monologue than an actual conversation. The restless feeling in my body because I have to wait for something is annoying. I just have a hard time sitting still when I can’t find any peace in my body. And I certainly don’t have that after a party. Listening to music for distraction feels a bit rude while someone’s talking to me. It’s mostly the sudden shift from a party to the harshly lit compartment in silence. The contrast is too great for my brain to adjust easily. The short walk or bike ride from the party to the station is just too brief of a transition to prepare myself for the long journey.
Sometimes I think about finding a job in Rotterdam, so I can just bike to work. I could do this with my last two jobs in Rotterdam, and it was pretty nice. Then I wouldn’t have to travel the short distance by train to Delft for my current job. But maybe I’d end up missing it? The short fifteen minutes of reading on the train from Delft to Rotterdam. Coming out of the emotional rollercoaster of work on my way home and acclimating for a moment. Of course, I could also look for a job further out in the country and travel even longer. Then I could read and write more chapters, typing away on my laptop like an important business person. I could also just take a train abroad and finally finish that book I’ve been trying to write for so long. That book that’s never finished because I never make time for it, and because writing a book turns out to be quite a challenge.
Or maybe an eternally moving train, which only stops once I have actually finished all my little tasks neatly. The landscape constantly changes at a rapid pace, just like the seasons, and this will give me enough inspiration to finally finish it. But when is something really finished? But that’s also so suffocating, isn’t it, something that has no end? No outcome. Imagine an endless train from Amsterdam to Rotterdam while you’re hungover and stinking, sitting in a dark compartment with a friend who never stops talking. Exhausting.
For now, my next connection is already canceled, and I have to switch to the metro. This continues to be a bit of a search, as Amsterdam still sometimes feels a little like a no-man’s land to me. But this does mean that I’m a little closer to you, which is nice. Another week had passed, and the distraction of my friends helped, so I didn’t have to constantly think about you. I think I’ve managed to take a little distance from you, or maybe this is just something I’m trying to convince myself of. The distance in between also brings insights that weren’t there before in my pink cloud of infatuation. How you’re constantly in my thoughts, and maybe I’m not in yours. But that’s an assumption on my part. And how the interest and constant interaction always come from me, but you don’t really ask what I’m doing or how I feel. That negative voice in my head sometimes crawls back into the car to sit in the passenger seat. But I have to focus too much on the road to push it away.
Maybe you just don’t ask much of people because you’re too busy with your work. Or maybe that’s just who you are, someone who quickly asks simple questions to fill the emptiness. But with the daily intense contact we have, it wouldn’t hurt to ask if I’m feeling okay. Love makes me a little crazy, and when I let my thoughts run wild, it makes me doubt the most unnecessary things and I start projecting expectations. If you weren’t interested in me, we wouldn’t have daily contact, so let me try to put this into perspective again. He moves in a different way than I do. Not just with dancing, but also with communication. And we ask each other enough questions.
We run out of the Garden of Eden together as one body. Our body floats, daydreaming, just above the ground. Sometimes, the cool morning dew from snowdrops touches the bottom of our feet. But we float stoically as we ask each other questions. Are you satisfied with where you are in life? With what I feel for you now, I could die for your sins, or maybe not. By the way, do you believe in the afterlife? No, neither do I. What do you want to eat tonight?
“Hello,” you say in a deep voice as only your head hangs out of the doorway. “Hey,” I say in a higher tone, since I’ve been awake a little longer. We see each other again. I kissed you on the lips, and you let me kiss you without doing anything back. I drop my backpack and take off my shoes. You’re the only person in my life with whom I take my shoes off by the door. I see a small trail of dust and dirt collecting along your floor near the baseboards. It’s been there for a while. Your robot vacuum probably can’t get to it. I keep thinking about cleaning it up, but I don’t know if you’d like that. I try not to take up too much space.
I’ve come here so many times now that I’m starting to notice other things. The rusty tongue scraper on your sink, the herbs that have been drying on a little plate since the first time I came to your place. The colored fan that I keep wanting to ask how you got it, but I forgot or already know the answer. The piano that I’ve never seen you play. The sweaty stain on your couch that I’m strongly convinced I can clean. A chair that neither of us ever sits in. A banana that was cut on the long side and has been in the freezer for weeks, now looking like a sad, forgotten piece of modeling clay. If you take the banana out of the bowl while it’s frozen, it will probably break.
It’s strange how you can get so used to someone that it almost feels like you’ve met them before. Everything goes fine and easily when we’re together. As if we’ve already been roommates for a year and are used to each other. We drift around each other and hold on to each other. Sometimes I wish I could have this every day, but this isn’t mine to have. We had a moment where we didn’t understand each other, but that’s been solved. I still sleep badly when I’m with you, but that’s because of the suffocating heat in your bedroom right now. It’s also midsummer, so it will be better in a few months.
The back-and-forth travel is actually not that bad. The time on the train gives me the time to listen to music and read. And because I really have to stay seated, it actually happens. My city, Rotterdam, probably feels a bit betrayed. Amsterdam winks at me and says, ‘I knew you’d come more often, after all, I have all the great parties and concerts you enjoy.’ The bitch, but you can’t really argue with that.
The most painful realization is that I am truly in love with you, and you are just like me. I’m already three steps ahead while you’re standing still, but there’s not much I can do about it. When I want something, I go for it, and I’ve long chosen you. Love is something you can never control or stop once it happens. It overtakes you when you least expect it and holds you in a stranglehold, part of which you enjoy. Though that last part might also come from other things in my life. I notice that I want to be better for you, stronger for you. I want to be just as impressive as the other men around you and, in doing so, I forget a piece of my own self-worth, or maybe I’m winning that back this way. I take better care of myself and watch my weight. I waxed my eyebrows again so they didn’t meet above my nose. I try to be more active with my body and eat healthier to get better. Because that’s what you do when you’re in love, be your best self to someone as if it’s some kind of mating ritual. You want to be found attractive by other people. And you like this little obsession and devotion from my side. I think I’d feel the same if someone wanted to do that for me. But you’re already perfect in my eyes.
Everything keeps leading me back to the beginning, how this form of loving friendship started and what you told me back then. You never promised me anything, and you’re not looking for a relationship. You don’t want to commit in any way, even though we’ve done that in a certain way now. I was willing to set everything aside to meet with you next week. Because love makes you blind and leads you to make radical decisions. But you say you need to think about it and can’t plan because it takes too much energy. You’re the one who asks when you can see me again, so why is it suddenly harder to make plans? I’ll put everything aside for you, you just have to say ‘yes please’ and I’ll come right to you. But you don’t do that, because, consciously or unconsciously, you make me wait half a day for an answer. The painful waiting. You probably realize how much power you have over me in this state of infatuation, and that’s dangerous because you don’t want to misuse it.
You told me that you’re afraid of hurting me. But in this story, I’m the only one hurting myself because all I want is to be with you. In my mind, I will try with all my might to give you a different form and a different place. But how things are going right now is all new to me. Normally, I move from A to B. You go on dates, get to know each other better, and find out if it’s a match or not. And then you take the next steps. But it doesn’t work like that here. This is freer, different, and without any rules or expectations. If you don’t want to give me clear confirmation, I’ll do it myself when my thoughts run wild during daydreaming. Do you remember the window you opened to stretch your arm out to escape? I slam it shut so hard that the glass shatters into a thousand pieces and covers the floor. A cool breeze caresses my face, and an endless silence fills the room. It’s always easier to let stories run on when I daydream, because then the open ends have more possibilities and outcomes.
‘Come on, don’t be so dramatic just because someone is giving you affection in a form you’re not used to. Why can’t you just enjoy what you have right now and how it’s going? You used to be so open-minded and free. ‘Why can’t you take this strange friendship for what it is?’ I try to tell myself. Falling in love with someone is, of course, incredibly beautiful and wonderful. But all the doubts, insecurities, and uncertainties that come with it drive my mind crazy. And I feel the crossroads approaching, where I have to make the decision about what I actually want to do with this. And that’s confusing, but at the same time, also interesting.
Taking a moment to pause and try to put things into perspective helps, of course. Just try to enjoy what you’re experiencing now because everything in life is, after all, temporary. And if he’s not thinking about it at all, why should you? Put those feelings you can’t place into a box and tuck them away somewhere in the deepest corners of your brain. Somewhere between the ‘T’ for trauma and the ‘U’ for exceptions. Being in love is beautiful, so just try to be in love.
The next time you see him, you’ll forget all the frustrations that came before and enjoy the moment again. Because that’s the beauty of being in love—your worries vanish like snow before the sun when he sticks his head out the door while you’re walking up the stairs. It works because every time, you make me laugh. You make me laugh every day. Then I see that handsome face, and I think, ‘This is what I’m doing it for,’ whatever it is that I’m doing exactly. And how you then let me kiss you, because I take the lead in this. You really get your mouth working when you initiate sex because you kiss more actively. And while I’m pacing restlessly back and forth in the living room right after entering, grumbling about work, you’re lying stretched out on the couch. When I’m done talking, you tap the couch with your right hand, the signal that I should lie next to you for cuddles. Then you snuggle up to me with your arm around me, letting me feel that it’s all good. The answer to the question of why I’m still stuck here.
Then we do the most normal things in the world. We play games and talk until we finally decide what we’re going to eat, and then we walk to the supermarket. You speak softly and clearly, and we let each other finish speaking. We have conversations about the most diverse topics. From the queer scene in the Netherlands to sustainability in retail. From building a career and living abroad to psychoanalysis. You have a particular scent that I can’t get enough of. Maybe it’s just your perfume, but I think it’s more likely your body scent. When I get home after spending the whole day with you and take off my shirt to go to sleep, I can still smell you. Sometimes I’ll grab my shirt, take a deep breath, and for a moment, it’s like you’re right there with me.
Today, we went out for the first time to do something in the city, to eat out. It felt like a real first date, but, of course, we didn’t call it that. Because we’re not dating. You kissed me when I picked you up from the station after a hug, something I still find special. Public affection gives me a feeling of pride. And I don’t really understand why I never initiated this myself. It makes it extra fun because you dare to do this with me. It’s quite absurd, of course, because this should be the most normal thing in the world. But unfortunately, we’re not that far along in society yet. But with you, I don’t have to hide this because we’re two attractive giants. It was too early for the reservation at the restaurant, so we walked a little through the city. We walked through my city. You tell me what you’ve experienced the past week and who you’ve had sex with. My face freezes a little, but I manage to cover it up well by pretending it doesn’t affect me. Then you confirm again that you like me and make a joke that makes me laugh again. It’s a rollercoaster I consciously got onto. I saw the loops from far away, but I still get startled every time I’m actually in it. Because it feels a little different.
We arrive a bit too summery dressed at the restaurant, and the staff seat us at a table where we almost seem separated from the rest. He probably didn’t do this on purpose, but you notice it too and respond with ‘romantic’ while you smile at me in the candlelight. Due to the loud sounds, we can hardly hear each other, so we have to keep leaning closer. Sometimes you give me a quick kiss in between. You notice that several of the staff are probably gay. I had noticed this too, but it’s just typical of you to point it out. You mean it playfully, but I shake my head, sighing. If I had met you years ago, I would have found you really annoying. You suddenly call what we’re doing dating, but I notice that you don’t backtrack with your words now. For a second, I believe you, but by now, I know better.
The evening goes on, and before I know it, it’s almost night. We have another drink in an empty bar while your hand disappears into my shorts. I’m not sure if it’s alcohol or if you’re just turned on. But I play along. The bar gets busier, and we leave again because you need to catch the train back to Amsterdam. You ask if I’ll come with you to Amsterdam, but I can’t bring myself to go with you. I need to know these things well in advance, so I can mentally prepare. I think this is my flaw. It’s also a way for me to avoid creating too much hope. I’m still trying to figure out what to do with these feelings. We say goodbye at the station, and you kiss me a few more times while we stand in front of the train. Again, in public, where everyone can see. You put your backpack on again, causing your slightly too short shirt to ride up, and I see your hairy belly. I smile at you, but you don’t quite realize what just happened, so you look at me questioningly. I don’t need to explain everything because some moments are for me. You give me one last kiss and get on the train. You take a picture of me, and I take a picture of you. No idea why we’re doing this, actually, we usually don’t capture anything. Maybe this was a moment for you too.
When I’m with you, everything feels natural. We go from deep conversations about things we’ve experienced to silly pee and poop jokes. You’ve picked up on the fact that I enjoy it when you tease me, so you do it often with a grin on your face. I enjoy being with you. Even though I still don’t fully understand what we’re doing. But I’m teaching myself to enjoy the moment. Because this fun time together is precious to me. As I bike home, I already regret not going with you to Amsterdam. But I also need to learn to keep a little distance, so I don’t fall too hard for you.
Martijn Winkel 