Londoner Erinnerung: The Story of Tami

Diese Geschichte ist 2003 in London entstanden:

Real stories must take place at weekends, I always thought. I mean, maybe I should not say real stories, but stories which are of interest to anybody. Who is interested in the dullness of a Monday morning in the office when everything you can tell is the rush hour hell you have just experienced another time. Crowded tube station, missed bus – is it worth talking about that?

Well, nonetheless I am going to begin my story on a Monday morning at my office desk. It is because I need a starting point. And it is because I want to tell you a real story, a story that talks about the real concerns of human nature.

What else do real stories contain? – A woman, of course. My story will contain a woman. Let me give her a name: Her name is Mia. She will be my thread throughout the story. I will manipulate her. I will let her do things that I want her to do. She will be my aid to underline the real concerns, to show you a good grasp of reality.

Let me first of all tell you the story of Tami: Tami is a young boy who becomes a young man. Then he realises what a struggle life can be. But he has a strong belief: He believes that he can find the woman he can be happy with his whole life, against all the odds of human life. I always wanted to write the story of Tami, and how he gets along and handles all the struggle and finally ends in the arms of his beloved woman; because I used to think that I was Tami.

Why do I introduce Mia into my story? Because she believed in the contrary. She thought life without a man would be much easier, would be the desirable state. Being with a man she considered the inevitable, because in the end you would have to give in to your sexuality. And she was highly sexual. She wanted to have sex every day. She wanted a man to touch her breasts, to penetrate her, to make her scream out of sexual pleasure. But the man she imagined did not have a face. It was a stranger, and as soon as they finished making love to each other, she turned away from him and he went away without saying a word.

When she had such fantasies, Mia masturbated regularly, but after that she was always very scared. She put the blanket over her head and was ashamed of her body, of her whole sexuality. She imagined her body as an eating-and-shitting-organism, (Yes, our body is an eating-and-shitting-mechanism!), she lost all her dignity and self-respect and had to cry. She was afraid the man might return and desire her body again when she was denying her body at the same time. On nights like this she always got up to drink a glass of water, but not before she had covered her body with her wide, not-showing-any-shape night dress. She could not bear to see her naked body when she was in such a miserable mental condition.

Have I manipulated Mia enough? I think so. Because when I got to know her, she appeared as a very asexual woman to me. She was more a girl than a woman, scared of the world and scared of herself. We had escaped the dullness of our office desks and walked along the pavement which was wet from the drizzling rain. (In fact, now the story really begins – we are not in the office any more.) She was cold, and her cheeks were red, so lovely red. I offered her my hat and she took it immediately. She was so lovely, with her red curly hair coming out under the hat.

We went into a café, one of those chains, and my hot chocolate tasted horrible. Life felt like a piece of shit. It was January, January in a big city, with so many lonely hearts, looking out of their windows and starring at the drizzling rain. But I could share this shit with Mia. My body was not an eating-and-shitting-organism at all. It was a body that contained a soul that felt delighted by the moment.

Love was inevitable. This is the sentence that had to come now. In our case, it was inevitable that our bodies would find out that we are man and woman. I laid my arm around Mia, and she got irritated by that. But she did not resist. She almost forced us to get to her place. She had Tami in her mind. She suddenly knew about the story I was always dreaming of. She took me home and led me straight to her room.

For a moment she was not sure what to do, but then she decided that I should be the man of her dreams. She dimmed the light before she undressed so that my face would not be clearly recognisable during our love-making. We made love and I touched her breasts and penetrated her and it all felt so easy.

But Mia had to wake up from her dream. She turned aside as usual in order not to see the man anymore. However, the man did not go. I stayed with her, and in the morning I kissed her gently and got up and made breakfast. I thought my story of Tami was becoming true. When I came back to bed my face was enlightened by the sunshine. It was so clear, so clearly recognisable for Mia in this pure morning light. It was too much for her. She took the cup of coffee and spilt it into my face. She covered herself with the duvet and cried silently. Oh, if this was not so real! And if only the story of Tami was a real story, I thought when I left her place in the morning light. It was not weekend, and I had to get to work.