When I arrived in Berlin some ten-ish years ago, I yearned for independence and anonymity. Coming from a place where even people who never spoke to you knew a lot about you, I could not wait to live in a huge city and become invisible, be free to do “my own thing” (whatever that was supposed to mean…). If felt very liberating at the time, knowing that people in the cafés, grocery stores, and on the streets don’t really care much about what I wear, what I have in my bag, how I talk, where I’m going to, whom I was meeting… Above all, even though I was able to make my own choices before, I finally felt like I don’t have to justify those choices to anyone.
Moving to the city also affected my romantic and sexual life. I was able to meet people without hiding; I was able to show affection in public without fear. And as I got to know more queer people, I was thrilled to learn that romantic relationships can be more than same-sex imitations of heterosexual monogamy, and that casual sex doesn’t have to be devoid of intimacy.
Consequently, my ideas of how relationships (romantic or otherwise) can work changed radically. For a long time, I was plagued by feelings of guilt for destroying my past relationships, mostly by cheating. I saw my past boyfriends as perfect guys I drove away by being a shitty person. But here, with a lot of support of my friends, my lovers, and my therapist, I came to understand that, even though I did betray my former partners’ trust, I didn’t do so because I was inherently a “cheater” or a bad person, but because the only available from of relationship at the time (exclusive, monogamous) just wasn’t right for me. Because I wasn’t able to figure it out then, I made stupid decisions and I hurt people. I promised myself to do my best and not repeat this. I didn’t want to hurt others, but I also didn’t want to hurt myself.
However, there was a flipside to my newfound freedom and the joy of exploration. I noticed that not caring about what other people do and choose to live their lives often masked selfishness and a lack of empathy – that “not caring” could sometimes be understood literally. I often experienced the same absence of intimacy as before, but it didn’t always seem to be caused by the same fear – it rather appeared to be a genuine disinterest in others. Being left alone felt good, but it also created fears of being actually left alone.
That fear is still present today. I don’t think it will ever go away fully. However, I managed to find ways for counteracting it. I’m lucky to be surrounded by conscientious and loving humans. I know that we won’t change the world we live in, but at least we can be there for each other. We’ve managed to build and keep relationships that are based in mutual respect, interest, and love. We make each other less afraid.
This, ultimately, made me reassess the idea of freedom from my “honeymoon phase” in this city. I realized that true freedom isn’t living totally independent of other people – it’s impossible, at the end of the day. Now, being able to choose people feels like freedom. Few things are as liberating as saying: I need you.