After the time with RomaBear, I got online to investigate myself. I had a brand new desire I needed to research. I needed to find those willing to help me find out what this new part of my mind was trying to tell me. I found a man in Munich. A week later, I took the train from Rome to Munich to meet him. NaziBear was 58 years old and was big and bald but smooth. He was less attractive than RomaBear, but he was still handsome and I hadn’t figured out exactly what I liked yet. I enjoyed his picture and I kept looking at it on the train ride. I imagined him being kind, I imagined him being a friend, maybe someone I would know for the rest of my life. Once I’d arrived in town and found a place to stay, I telephoned him from my hotel. He invited me to his home to have lunch with him and his mother. I declined, of course, and immediately felt I had made a mistake by coming to Germany. He wasn’t pleased but he invited me to come over that evening instead, after his mother had gone. I didn’t want to go through with this anymore, but I didn’t want my trip to be wasted so I said okay. I brought a bottle of wine with me and held it by the neck as I climbed his stairs. I was prepared to hit him over the head with it if he began acting like a murderer. This was the first time I ever went to a stranger’s house for sex so I can’t be blamed for my naïve behavior. I was truly naïve. After very few words, we started in. We had sex pretty much non-stop from the time I stepped through the door until the next morning. He wanted me to fuck him without a condom but he wanted to be sure I wouldn’t come inside of him. I thought that was asking a little much of me. “Just don’t come inside me,” he kept saying over and over. I kept thinking, “What if I had something?” as I fucked him. He tried to push me back and off of him when I was getting ready to come but I leaned into him instead, collapsing his knees, spraying his guts. I felt like he deserved it for being so careless. I had nothing anyway. He was safe. I fell off to his side and he jumped out of bed in a huff and ran to the bathroom. I remember thinking, “I’ve done nothing wrong” as I drifted off to sleep.
The next morning he drove me around Munich and showed me all of the leftover Nazi shit there. I could not have possibly cared any less. “Foreigners should not be allowed into Germany,” he said. “Totally,” I replied. “I was just thinking the same thing. Could you drop me at the train station, please?” When we pulled up to the station he tried to kiss me but I dodged it. I opened the car door and stepped out. I think I thought the word “faggot” once outside of his car. I looked up at the departure board as if it were a savior descending from the Munich sky. And it was. A train for Rome was leaving in five minutes. I waved, but I did not say goodbye.