Lost Sugar Daddy

Aside from Mr. Happily Married (see Oct. 22nd post) and Mr. Cell Phone Addict (Nov. 21), there was an older (mid- to late-50s) German gentleman who was the first, actually, but who I have yet to mention. He was very sweet, with all the right politics, but oh-so-fussy, and clearly suffering from either acute gastroenteritis or a prostate condition (in the bathroom 4 to 5 times in the course of 2 hours).

He talked me into sitting outside on a sunny late-October day in the low 50s that, in California-speak, would definitely qualify as freezing! He hadn't warned me in advance, so, although I've learned to go out in Berlin prepared for the worst, my clothing was not up to the task of sitting outdoors for an hour and a half. I've always wondered how the heck these Germans can sit at cafés outside in the cold (and believe me, they do it in far colder weather), so I acceded, wrapping my scarf securely and pulling on my hood. Here's the secret -- find a plaza large enough so the buildings don't cast a shadow over the whole square, with a restaurant on the north side, and sit facing as directly south as you can, with the sun on your face. If you sit close enough to the building, any wind tending from the north or northwest will be blocked to some degree. It wasn't bad, actually, as the sun still had some strength and by that time of year one is beginning to crave natural light.

At any rate, after the German made his 3rd (or was it 4th?) trip to the bathroom, I was contemplating two uneaten plastic packets of jam, and how I didn't want to buy yet more jam that wouldn't be consumed before my next move. It's not a money problem, it's my mother's German thriftiness, perhaps, or I'm just getting tired of throwing away food every couple of months. I slipped the jams into my pocket. It then seemed rather obvious what I'd done (to me, anyway): the bread basket looked bare, so I covered it with a paper doily. Wouldn't you know as soon as he got back, a gust of wind lifted the doily away, exposing the obvious (to my eyes) lack of jam tubs? To make it all worse, when the time came to pay, he yanked a roll of 100-euros notes out of his pocket. Well, maybe I exaggerate, but it was at least three or four 100's, and womyn, you just don't SEE hundred-euro notes in Berlin! I am quite sure my eyes widened; it was unavoidable. Oddly, after him being very attentive by E-mail both before & after the "date", soon followed by a trip to San Franciso of all places, he has fallen out of sight. He probably had me figured for a poseur -- the long intercontinental flight surely gave him time to contemplate the significance of those missing jams. I've not heard not a word from him... just as well, as I wasn't the least bit attracted to him. But I am lamenting the loss of the idea, at least, of a sugar daddy.