Chapter 1 - Did you ever have a European guy?
Him: did you ever have a European Guy?
Me: you know I am Polish, right?
Him: oh thought it was Indonesia :)
Me: Pola left the chat.
Moving to Germany was never on my bucket list, but when the chance to leap from a middle-sized Polish city to the EU’s biggest playground came along, how could I resist? So, I packed my bags, gave the Polish sea a fond farewell, and shouted (in my head): Berlin, ready or not, here I come!
Sure, the fancy job offer was a big draw, but let’s be honest—the tall, blonde, blue-eyed hunks were an even bigger pull. Growing up in Poland, you get used to the German look, but wow, those men are something else. I had this absurd daydream of being swept off my feet by a rugby-bodied, über-successful stud who’d also help me unlock the yet-to-be-discovered kinky side of myself. Lofty goals, I know. Step one: craft an irresistible dating profile. I settled on something self-aware and playful: "From the deep woods of 🇵🇱 to Berlin, looking for greener grass." Pair with abundance of bikini pics floating my juicy behind and newly acquired rack.
You’d think Germans, with their vaunted education system, might pick up on the emoji context clues. Nope. My inbox quickly became a parade of bizarre messages. Some asked if I’d ever been with a European man (uh, hello?), others wanted to know if moving from Peru was hard. PERU. One guy even congratulated me on escaping from Russia. Seriously? Our countries share a border, but my flag was like a Rorschach test for their geography skills.
Funny how, in my quest to broaden my sexual horizons, I discovered just how limited some people’s horizons truly are.
I quickly learned that not everything that glitters is golden—and that beautiful men can be tragically bad in bed. Consent, as it turns out, is not just crucial but essential—especially if you want to avoid unwelcome surprises (yes, I’m looking at you, anal enthusiasts). While Berlin prides itself on being a haven for every kink imaginable, it’s also overflowing with people who will side-eye you for not being kinky enough for the cool kids.
As someone who’s pretty chill but somehow always gets dragged into drama, my friends have long delighted in my dating stories. Now, lucky you, you get to join the audience!
In the coming chapters, I’ll take you through the crash-and-burn adventures of my Berlin dating jungle—raw, messy, and occasionally unflattering. Sometimes, I’m the villain. Always, the stories are true. And, of course, every tale comes with a healthy sprinkle of sarcasm and black humor.
Oh, and a quick disclaimer: Pola isn’t my real name. Also, I’m not a pole dancer. At least… not anymore.
The stories won’t follow a neat chronological order because, let’s face it, neither does dating in Berlin. So, let’s kick things off with the date I had today. Buckle up!
