Being Hinksch

I remember I saw this in a Bridget Jones movie, one of the old ones, and I felt like it instantly clicked with me. As if someone was describing my life in a single breath. I even quoted it in another blog, although I never actually wrote about it. It goes exactly like this: "I mean, look at the state of us. You and me stumbled into the vip room by mistake and it's only a matter of moments before they show us the door." I have always felt like my life is that VIP room that I entered by mistake, and I keep waiting for someone to come and tell me that this was a mistake. And I am honestly surprised I am almost 40 years old and it still never happened - I am still in this VIP room.  I have a good life. There are punctual things I would like to be better, but in the big picture scheme of things, I like my life. I was very lucky to meet and marry the love of my life, and I honestly don't see us ever breaking up. I got to work as my childhood dream job, and with that I can t...

I am not perfect. I don't think I ever was, and I don't think I will ever be. I try my best to be kind, helpful and grateful in my life, but I don't always get it right. I like to believe that I get it right more today than I did yesterday, and tomorrow I will get it even more right because I am learning, every day, from my mistakes. But there is now and there will always be room for improvement. I have done some stuff in my life that I am not proud of. I will not get into specifics here - but not because I am ashamed of them, or I am trying to hide them. I just don't see the need to tell these stories. What I can tell is that I know they existed, I acknowledge and own them, and I use them to remind myself of not making those mistakes again. But they also make me think about the wood board and the nails. When I was growing up, someone told me that life is like a wood board, and we are nails. We use these nails on the wood board, and sometimes we realised that it was a m...

I love Instagram, but it has a very damaging side to me. I see people meeting each other, interacting, tagging each other, and I get the constant feeling that people don't care about me, that nobody remembers I exist, and that I have to do something to remind them that I am in this world, and that they will only think of me if I remind them that I am still alive. Sometimes I feel like, no matter what I do, it won't ever be enough. I will never be that guy that people want to go out with for a fun night out. I will never be the guy that is hot and popular, and everybody wants to date. I will never be the guy everybody wants to headhunt and hire for a top job. I will never be the guy that will make a difference in the world. The truth is, I isolate myself, I have an antisocial job and I make myself unavailable, because ultimately I want to take control of the fact that, if things were different, it wouldn't make any difference. If I would be available, I would still never be ...

I once saw this theory on a TV show, but I can't remember which one right now. It goes like this: any action from one person to another can be equally considered cute or creepy. It just depends on the person who is analysing it. Most specifically, depends if the person receiving the action appreciates it. But, for this little essay, let's stick to the person analysing it. And, in this specific case, let's say the person analysing it is my mind. Because, in my mind's eye, I am always being creepy. Every time I do something, my mind tells me that I am being creepy, I am being too much, I am bothering someone and I am being a burden to them. I regret it instantly, and many times I truly believe that the person will never talk to me again, until they give me some sort of validation - like answering a message. Yes, my bar is that low. Although sometimes I cannot even get that. To put it in practical terms, I am very direct and open about everything, and that means - amongst ...

Someone actually told me those exact words recently. But there's no breakthrough there - they were not the first, and I am fairly certain they won't be the last one. Being "too much" is something I have been hearing my whole life, from different people. Sometimes in a positive light, but mostly in a negative one. I have mostly been told that I need to tone myself down. Less is more. Is it, though? Should I change who I am, suppress a part of my personality and becomes something I am not, because someone else said so? Or, in this case, many someone elses said so... This very question burns me every time it happens. And, as I mentioned already, it happens a lot. So I am in this constant internal battle. Honestly, it's exhausting. We live in society, with other people. One should always be aware that a behaviour should be suitable for living in a community. I could never tell the world to fuck itself, this is who I am and you will have to take me. I don't see mys...

It was the last party, at the last night of a weekend that had been amazing. I got to see all my friends, some I haven't for years. I got to visit places, eat foods, do things. Berlin had shown me, once again, why I call it my second hometown. That party had no agenda, no expectations, no things unfinished. I was there simply to have fun. To let myself go and let Berlin take me. There was a boy in this particular party, who was also in other parties. He is not from Berlin - he doesn't live there, but was also there just for the weekend. And this particular boy was totally out of my league. To be fair, he is still out of my league. We don't even play the same sport. In fact, metaphorically speaking, he plays sport and I am a rocket scientist - that's how out of my league he is. He is, without a doubt, one of the hottest, most handsome guys I have ever met. And I wanted to kiss him, but in the same way I would like to be an astronaut or win the euromillions. More like a w...

I was sitting at the corner of the bar, bored. I made sure my friends knew that I was bored. We were going to a party somewhere else, but we had to wait for someone to join us. It was the last night of partying, I was a bit tired. And I achieved everything I wanted to achieve. I still wanted to go to the party, mainly to see many of my friends for a last time before I left Berlin. Anything else was only a non-important step in that direction - including the corner of that bar. Then I saw him across the room, coming over, passing closer to me to go to the toilet or the smoking area, which are in the same general direction. He was incredibly cute, in a geeky bearish way. I wanted to kiss him almost instantly. He passed, and I knew he would have cross me again on the way back. There was no other way. When he did, I stopped him and told him he was cute. He said I was also cute, we talked a bit and then we kissed. It was a great kiss. My friends looked at me startled, amused with how litera...

We had just arrived in Berlin that afternoon, and shortly after we were showing our faces at the Woof - probably the best bear bar in the world. I was meeting again friends that I haven't seen in a while, and slowly getting acquainted with new faces. There was nobody who got my attention, particularly. I wanted to kiss people, but nobody really stood out to me. It was the first day, after all, and my expectations were really high. It would have been difficult to please me. Until I saw him, across the room, towards the back of the bar. He had something that attracted me instantly, but I cannot pinpoint what. Maybe it was his eyes? Maybe his bushy beard? Maybe his mediterranean vibe... I was drawn to him, but it was only the first night. There was still a lot to happen. I crossed him on my way to the toilet, I looked at him, but I am not sure he looked back at me. Or even noticed me. On my way back, I decided to stop and talk to him. Right before I said hi, I was grabbed by a friend ...