About this Book

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My novel is about me: a 40-year-old mother with kids, an ex-partner who is the father of my kids and an ex-partner with whom I have had an affair. The book is about my flirting attempts and the people who surround me. I live in a Bavarian village and suffer from severe heartache. Apart from that, I am looking for a man online. The online search takes up a lot of my time so it is described in detail in this novel. I also write about everyday life – the kids, my girlfriends, acquaintances, our chapel and my attitude towards life and religion. The novel was written between November 2013 and February 2014. This was a time of absolute emotional chaos. A time of spiritual misery and of love pains … and in a time where I felt utterly inconsolable. It mirrors my soul, heart and innermost views … in other words, my mind and feelings. It is supposed to be an entertaining novel with a few serious topics. I don’t know how to categorize this book, as I have never come across one that is similar. That does not mean that it doesn’t exist, only that I have not read one like this before. A book is supposed to be either funny and easy to read, or serious and contemplative. This text is intended to be both. Moreover, I did not want to have any fictitious characters. I think life offers enough material to fill volumes. It is exciting and adventurous. A true story is more beautiful than a fictional horror story that no one wants to experience in real life. That is why I simply look at my life and describe what I see: what is going on around me and within me and then again, how it is reflected in the outside world.

I wrote this novel out of spiritual desperation. This can be seen by many leaps of thought. In repeated editing sessions, I have tried to smooth out glitches and lack of logic. Indeed, the fairground of life does not always resemble a boring carousel ride but often feels like a roller coaster. And, in fact, I would much prefer a peaceful forest than a tumultuous fair. My philosophy and faith are also depicted in the book. Maybe I have developed quite my own perspective of life on these pages. This is the requirement for my life that is, in turn, embedded in an ancient, evolving system and in structures that I often do not like and wish to cast light on. Or religious issues that I like very much. Originally, the book was intended for my children. For idealistic, but also for materialistic reasons, I want to make it accessible to anyone whom it may interest.

Frankly speaking, the book is about me: a homemaker in need of money, who has very high ideals and at least tries to achieve this in her own way. That’s all.

An interested reader will figure out the rest on his or her own.

Me and the People around me

*

It was Saturday evening, and I was at my laptop in the living room. My ex-husband and three of our daughters were sitting on the couch. It was 7 p.m. on a Saturday and they were watching the evening German sports show “Sportstudio” on ARD. They were just showing a few excerpts from the 1. FC Nuremberg vs. Wolfsburg game. It ended 1:1. Soccer was what interested my children most. All four girls, the two boys and their father actively played at the sports club in the neighboring village. They were very happy to be part of the teams and they clearly enjoyed the exhausting physical activity. Contact with other team players was good for them and being together was a lot of fun. The three eldest and their soccer team had been at the Nuremberg Stadium today to watch exactly that game live. First, they watched the game and were now viewing the excerpts. Don’t ask me why they had to watch everything all over again. It was probably more relaxing watching something in a warm living room, than out in the cold. And that way, they were able to review the game and see everything they had missed earlier. So, basically, they watched the same game twice. I was not going to question whether or not that made sense. I did not have to know everything. The coaches organized the trip. The girls, Tessa, Nina and Naomi, (15, 13 and 12) were dressed warmly to survive the cold November temperature. Nobody wanted to stand outside with chattering teeth. Thermal underwear, winter boots, a cap, winter jacket and gloves were necessary. The girls were longhaired teenagers and no different from any other kids their age. I think that, to some extent, all teenagers share similar interests. Of course, they have their individual differences. However, I won’t get into that. I might encounter considerable resistance if I were to discuss their peculiarities and features, strengths and weaknesses. They would probably consider it an infringement of their personal rights.

About a year ago, I joined a friend at the stadium. It was very spontaneous and by surprise. Linda and I had taken our boys to soccer practice. I asked her if she had any other plans for that night, and she told me she was going to the stadium. She and her husband had season tickets, but he had no time to accompany her. “Do you want to come with me?”, she asked.

I was quite perplexed. It sounded interesting. So far, I had only been to the arena once in the summer to watch a soccer game. I agreed. As we were short for time, I could not drive home to change into a pair of ski pants. Linda’s husband picked up the children, so we drove to a sports shop along the way in Schwabach to buy a pair. I didn’t have money with me, so I borrowed some from Linda. Then drove to Nuremberg. It was impressive to see 40,000 people streaming into the soccer stadium to watch a small leather ball. The whole procession reminded me of some kind of cult-like, religious act much like Catholic mass. Songs similar to hymns were played and it was very quiet for the first 10 minutes. I didn’t remember it being that way. Linda explained that recently there had been a scandal at a different soccer game where firecrackers were thrown. A penalty was imposed and the next soccer game took place without spectators. Now this was to demonstrate the eerie silence of a game without spectators. There were banners that stated, “No sound – no atmosphere.” I could now appreciate why a soccer game should be watched in peace. Everyone should be able to enjoy the game and to leave the stadium unharmed. It was a fair competition for pure pleasure, entertainment and fun. Discipline and peaceful conduct of players and spectators was the secret recipe for a successful event.

Finally, accompanied by a few children, the much-anticipated demigods entered the inner sanctum of the soccer field wearing their shorts and jerseys (in two colors). Most of the people stood up and the club anthems were played. I think there were also club flags. All of the players greeted each other: a ritual. They began to play at the blow of a whistle. The announcer commented on everything and a big screen displayed the ball and the players. At some point, I think after about ten minutes, the commotion began. It was choreographed by the dance of the ball. When it went into a goal, arms were flung high and cheers broke out. The opponents looked embarrassed and complained or cursed. When the ball made it into the other goal, it was the other way around. Among the fans, I felt like a slow-poke. In the Franconian dialect, one is referred to as being a dotschn: a misfit who fails to grasp the very concept and essentials of an event. The misfit is indifferent, unemotional, and has no idea of what is going on. Oh well, this much I understood: The round bit of leather had to be kicked into the square box with a lot of physical effort. I felt a bit like a party pooper, but the crowd didn’t notice me. Nobody looked at me. Only Linda talked with me, at least a little. I got the point. After all, we were friends and I did not know anyone else there. Besides, she had come to watch the game. She was fascinated by the whole thing. My babbling might just have irritated her or may have been too much for her.

There were not enough fans of the guest team there to stand out in the crowd. Only a few were dressed in blue, compared to the 1. FCN fans who all wore team caps and scarves in the team’s colors. Linda greeted everyone around us with a handshake. She had been going to the stadium for decades and therefore knew most of the people here. It was really exciting to observe the atmosphere. How Linda could be so engaged, emotional and enthusiastic escaped me, but I never claimed to be a soccer fan nor did I understand why the other spectators were so involved. It was interesting to hear how loud some people could scream. At any rate, I guess they enjoyed singing. I found some of the lyrics really cool, too. I was astonished by the swearing, much of which I had never even heard of until then. The amount of curse words used is a science in its own right. And it was amazing to be part of such a huge crowd and watch the game. The children also enjoyed the day.

Actually, the plan was that afterwards the girls would attend a concert at the youth center in the neighboring town. However, that was not going to happen because they were all exhausted after visiting the stadium. Oh well, at least I was spared from chauffeuring them around. It was too bad, because I was really counting on it and my friend Tatjana wanted to join us. I didn’t want to stand her up since she was willing to accompany me, and I liked chatting with her. She rang the doorbell.

After a warm welcome, we decided to drive to Schwabach. There, we sat in a café that was quite comfortable with leather sofas and cozy cushions. The guests were quite young. Some people were sitting opposite each other and playing with their cell phones. I called the phones “guinea pigs”, because they were so affectionately caressed and fed with electricity and money, and they needed one’s attention all the time. And, as far as content was concerned, a lot of nonsense could be produced with them. Tatjana and I wondered why these things were given more time and attention than the people sitting opposite each other were. However, we certainly didn’t have to understand everything. At least we had a great conversation. I got the feeling that the people at the next table were eavesdropping at times. We jumped from one subject to the next. Our topics were very diverse. In a nutshell: about God and the world. For once, it wasn’t about the father of my children and my ex. I think Tatjana was relieved not to hear this again. She’s already had to endure a lot in this regard.

As we left, we passed the “Tafel” which is a shop where the less fortunate can inexpensively buy food. I was very upset that the Church and the State agreed on this and supported this. I had developed my own philosophy: people should instead develop a fair social system where there are no parallel societies. It is an attack on human dignity. It is absolutely unacceptable and few people realized this. The only ones who did understand were those that were affected. The others though, it didn’t concern them. Besides, powerful people obviously supported the system. Educated people, who were not necessarily emotionally intelligent and who wanted to gain a status in society. The more knowledge and intelligence they possess, the more income they assume they are entitled to. Unfortunately, they have not yet managed to help the weak. The weak are those who do not understand the system or those who have not been permitted to understand it. Do powerful people not want to help the weak or are they not able to? Flunking school is, after all, very normal. Whoever doesn’t know the answer to what the teacher asks, fails. Should other questions be asked sometimes? Socially, failing school does not seem to matter to anyone. Both those failing school, as well as those who judge them, accept it. I dream of a society in which no one fails school. A society in which God represents values. I don’t want my children to fail school, and I don’t want that for other children either.

That is why I wrote this book. For my children and other children or their mothers and fathers and other people that may find it interesting. I think that as far as parents’ wishes are concerned, everyone wants the same. They wish for their children to live a long and happy life. To be happy one needs to have an ideal background, family, friends, and financial security. Dogmas that define life. Jesus and the Bible generally outline my dogmas.

Hannes is the father of my children. We met when I was 23 and he 25. It was love at first sight. He was my first boyfriend and my first big love. Unfortunately, Hannes had not been a good conversationalist the past six years. His main interests in life were organic farming and his offspring. However, we were a good match physically and had wonderful sex. Even today, I still like to reminisce. Our bodies and movements were made for each other. My needs and desires fell short in daily life. After some time, we were sick of living together. It was quite a relief for me. I couldn’t stand his silence anymore. I was talkative, after all. I gave lectures and led seminars. At least he listened. Still today, it annoys me that he never responds out of indifference and exhaustion.

In the interest of the children we agreed that he would come over every evening for dinner, he would help put the kids to bed, spend some time with the older ones and would leave again at around 10 p.m. On Sundays, he would do something with the kids. We divided the kids depending on their current interests. I think we managed that in quite a modern way. The children were happy with our arrangement and I think they dealt well with it.

Me and the Start of my Internet Dating Search

*

Now a little more about me. I was single, but I would have loved to have a partner at my side, a shoulder to lean on, somebody to cuddle with and love and, above all, someone to talk with. I really wanted to share my life with a suitable man – a man, who fits well with me, and whom the kids could see as a friend or pal. That was why I visited an online dating website a few days ago. It is called “Statuspartner.de.” I had to answer quite a lot of questions to create my profile. Occupation: social worker, currently housewife. Age: 40 years. State: Bavaria. Number of children: 6. Desire to have children: generally imaginable (of course only with the perfect love, as I already had many). Honors, awards: according to my children, the World’s Best Taxi Driver. (That was actually true; I was quite good-natured and chauffeured my kids around whenever they liked. Mostly that meant picking them up from school and taking them to activities. Sometimes to the movies or on excursions. However, most of all, my teens liked to go shopping. I was then allowed to join them as the paymaster, but I will not get into that here.) Eye-color: blue. Hair color: brown. Height: 1.75 meters. Weight: a few pounds too many. (This was actually true. However, it was also true that I had been on a diet for over a year and always watched what I ate. Nevertheless, I had already lost over 15 kilos but had not yet reached my goal. It is a complicated subject, as I really do not like to talk about my lack of discipline. I ate out of frustration and, to calm myself. I always first had to eat something when problems arise. I constantly had to pull myself together.) How did others see me? Others described me as amicable. My favorite pastimes were reading the newspaper, music, singing, dancing, badminton and winter sports. I liked to go out and relax. What did I expect from a relationship? The tolerance to accept each other just the way we are. Mutual understanding, trust, openness and honesty, love and affection. There was also a personality analysis based on the principles of similarity and compatibility. Proximity and distance, self-sufficiency and needs, dominance and submission, fate and growth expectation, communication skills, empathy, the ability to deal with conflicts and stress management were all analyzed. The results of the analysis were matched with an ideal partner. I registered on the dating site and subscribed to one year of service and I had to pay a fee. Initially, a potential partner would only see my picture after I released it. It all sounded great. I started with an inquiry to 25 men. After a few days, I noticed that a few prospects had viewed my profile. However, so far I had no inquiry.

Then, at last. A message appeared in my inbox. It read: “We are happy to announce that you have received a message. Someone has sent you a message of approximately seventy words.” I was happy. Even a little excited. I was full of expectation and giddy. I was quickly prompted to check my inbox and I couldn’t wait to see what it contained.

The message read, “Hello, thank you for your kind inquiry. Six children – wow. I only know one family who has that many. Unfortunately, I met a Statuspartner woman four weeks ago and since then it’s been great. She lives just around the corner. I want to give her my full attention. I replied to your message because it is the proper thing to do. I wish you as much luck as I have had. Best regards, Philipp.” That sounded quite nice. Too bad, he was already taken. Or was that only an excuse? For once, I didn’t want to be distrustful. In fact, it was rather unkind of me to suggest something like that. Besides, he could have said so if he did not like me. We did not know each other at all so he had no obligations or responsibilities towards me. Although, it was a shame. It would have been a miracle if a date had resulted from the first message. However, it didn’t. Things could only get better. After all, this was only the beginning of my search.

So, to re-cap: I was now registered with a dating agency that had more than 2 million members and I had already received a reply within two days of my inquiry. Should I have regarded this as something good or bad? I read the agency’s information. Some women complained about a lack of inquiries while others have had over 100 per week. I think the number of children I have may be frightening. After all, according to a survey, Germans were having fewer children because of how much they cost. Moreover, a few parents I knew have had fewer children, because they thought it would be too exhausting. That would possibly make my search difficult. I did not really know what to think of my Internet search. My first reaction was to unsubscribe immediately. After all, I felt somewhat embarrassed. I had 14 days to unsubscribe. I thought, perhaps I should make use of it. The second thought was: nothing ventured, nothing gained. I did not unsubscribe and so I embarked on the adventure of searching for a partner. Besides, at that time I did not have another solution for finding “Mr. Right.” And Sophie, my neighbor, said, “Be glad if you don’t get so many inquiries. If all registered men wanted to see you, you would not even manage it at all.” I had to laugh. I had not even looked at it that way before. Clear-headed and very pragmatic. Although, I would have had a larger selection. And it would have made my decision much easier.

And all this hoopla and effort just because my ex-boyfriend broke up with me 8 weeks ago. Unilaterally. It wasn’t my choice. I was completely blown away and confused. Since then I felt as if I had fallen into an emotional hole. Much like in a state of emergency. I thought I was inconsolable and I felt inferior to others and misunderstood. I was an emotional wreck. I felt tortured and somehow I was not myself. My good mood had gone down the drain. And I felt down in the dumps. Emotionally desperate. Pain in my heart and soul. I felt as if I was in a valley of torment. Emotionally dissolved and pulled-apart. And I still could not quite understand what was going on. I would have to explain this in greater detail for it to be easier to understand. But it is not easy to explain. And to me it really didn’t make sense either.

In the meantime, I wanted to check my inbox again, and it was a good idea to change the subject. An interesting message from the dating service might have arrived. A message I eagerly awaited. Every message gave me a small hope that “Mr. Right” was available. Moreover, I had to focus on my future partnership. Somehow, life had to go on. I told myself not to get in a rut. To courageously look ahead. Be positive. Yes, and there I focused on my anchor, my new Internet dating. I had been infected with dating fever and I was very nervous. I opened my inbox and, to my surprise, there was an inquiry initiated by the inquirer himself.

Statuspartner.de said something like, “Congratulations, you have an inquiry.” Okay, I was happy again. First, I looked up his profile. It was decent and seemed all right. A nearby academic. He wrote the following, “Dear stranger, I would like to meet you, because I find your profile interesting. If we were to be acquainted at a first date, there would be no disagreements. Greetings, Gregor.” However, this was a standardized message. Ingenious, this partner-finding system. The ideas on the site were great. However, he wanted to tell me something else in a separate message. “Hello, Dear, I’m sorry for the delayed reply. I have been very busy. Next week I’ll have to travel to the Middle East and I must prepare for it. But I hope we can get together the week after … I would like to meet you. But not only meet you. I want to desire you … When was the last time you were desired? When did you last experience passion? I’m really looking forward to meeting you. Greetings, Gregor.”

I was speechless. Was that a joke? Wasn’t there a smiley? Or was he serious? However, if it was a joke and it was meant to be witty, it was a bit suggestive and direct. I was a little peeved. Not my taste at all. Or was this guy just clumsy and he thought he was funny? Was he actually going to travel abroad? He was probably only a busybody. He would not get far with me. Maybe I lacked humor. The father of my children always accused me of that. Although, I could sometimes act quite silly and be amusing. However, those words, despite their possible pleasant intention, were too much. I decided to send him a friendly and polite rejection. And I did just that.

Jemo and my Heartbroken Text Message

*

Something very bizarre happened: I looked at my cell phone. And behold! Jemo, my ex-boyfriend, was going to call me that day at 9 p.m.!

It was unbelievable. He had broken up with me at our favorite café. The next day we spoke on the phone. I cried so much that I couldn’t even remember what we talked about during our two-hour conversation. This blackout led to me not knowing whether he would call me after he had made up his mind about us or whether our relationship was truly over. That was why I incessantly wrote him text messages for eight weeks. I called him every other day, but he did not answer the phone. My text messages remained unanswered, too. I whined to my friends that I didn’t know what was going on. I text messaged him whining that he should just tell me what was wrong. Katha, wiser and older friend of mine who was happily married, told me that I should let it go. And Ronja said she was quite furious over the idiot. “He drives me crazy! He doesn’t know what he wants. He is indecisive and immature. You can do something like that as a teenager, but not as an adult. He could at least send you a text.” My feelings were like a roller coaster: one minute deeply saddened, the next minute cheerful and hopeful. I had never before experienced such emotional chaos.

Anyway. Jemo, whom it concerned, did not hear it. Too bad. He should have thought about it quite a lot. I could not remember when I had ever been so angry like that with someone before. However, he pushed me over the edge. I did not consider it a compliment that he was able to drive me up the wall. My messages to him were very clear about it. Friendly and witty at first but then increasingly nasty. The first message sounded like this, “Hello, Jemo, unfortunately I can’t remember anything that we discussed on the phone. Because of all the crying, I had a complete blackout. Would you please tell me what we talked about and your thoughts? You may also simply write END, and then I’ll know that our relationship has really ended. Greetings, Marie.”

The second message was still humorous: “Hi, Jemo, the most elegant way to get rid of me is for you to emigrate to an Islamic country and convert to Islam. Being a Catholic, I would not go with you. Religion is the melody to which we dance in life. I’d rather stick to the Bible. However, in some countries, if you were to become a Muslim you may even be able to have a harem. I would even send you some burkas. They are available online. What professions do the women in your harem practice? Is one perhaps a professor in oriental sexual ethics and another has a doctorate in intercultural exchange? Is it like that or are they qualified masseuses and reflexologists? In case you do not want to emigrate, but would rather stay here, I will enquire about a mosque in Nuremberg. I think the community members would be happy to take you in. A few days ago, the Frankish County Newspaper stated that Arabic newspapers reported about a man who had illegally given his lessons. She hit him with the car. I recommend this country to you. It would give you a stay in a hospital and you would have time to think about us. At least you would have some time to relax and think about important things. Do you not want to move? Please, let me know. Marie.”

The next message was, “Hello! Have you noticed that an imbalance in the frequency of our messages has occurred? Now I do not want to count and recount, because I hate mathematics and it was only invented to cheat those who do not understand it. I don’t understand it at all. Would you please talk straight with me? Kind greetings, Marie.”

The next message was, “Hello Jemo, are you ill, in prison or just a prisoner of yourself? I am patiently awaiting your reply. Please, do not keep me waiting. Of course, I understand if you are focusing on the essentials and important matters. I also require presence, attention and appreciation. Thank you. Marie.”

Since Jemo was also teaching at a school, I tried an academic point of view. “Hello, I have not been the smartest student. Sometimes I’m a bit slow in understanding. Could you explain that to me again in writing? I don’t understand at all. I still have butterflies. I’m still looking at the world through rose-tinted glasses. However, your silence is causing the butterflies to fly away, and I will soon take off the rose-tinted glasses. A special exercise unit for me would be nicer. This is standard in your lessons, isn’t it? You would tutor any one of your students in this situation or they would at least get a short written text from you. Why not me? Hugs, Marie.”

Then the messages became more impatient. Once I wrote, “Reply, but do it quickly!” The next message was, “Hello Jemo, we have talked about having children. Was this the Neanderthal gene in you? A gene that deceives the woman into believing that you really want to have children although you have no desire to have any? A gene only serving self-sustenance and false pretenses of truly loving a woman? I had no idea that there could be such a thing. I have not heard about this in the lessons I received from Catholic monastery professors. But my friend who studied in a ‘worldly’ technical college told me about this. Maybe she only invented the term. Perhaps it was taught to me in a different way. Unfortunately, I did not always pay attention otherwise I might have learned more. I am blown away by the fact that humans are Neanderthals and that what happens in bed is not ruled by true love but governed by such primitive genes. Did your penis control you during our relationship? Marie.”

Before I became rude, I got hold of his oldest daughter on the phone. She promised to tell him to call me. And now he said he would. I couldn’t wait. I really missed him. I wrote that to him often enough. I missed our talks and dates. It was always fun and relaxing with him. The way it always is when you are in love for three quarters of a year. I was on cloud nine and was really happy. And he was really nice, witty, handsome, likeable and smart. However, emailing for such a long time without getting a response, emptiness, lacked any sense of fun. I couldn’t find a reason for this and I couldn’t believe he would be like that. I was almost a bit disappointed. No, not only disappointed but sometimes really frustrated and desperate. It was also hard to conceal my desperation. Yet it was present and I tried to cover it up. Now, again, I was sitting beside the phone. It was already 9:45 p.m. and he had not yet called. What was wrong? I did not understand it at all.

The next day we spoke on the phone. I called him, because, apparently, I had not heard my cell phone. I checked it. It was true. I had switched it to mute without noticing. It was a weird conversation; like with a stranger. He talked a lot about his wife who took medicine to strengthen her psyche and he was still trying to save a relationship that had been dysfunctional for nine years. He was working a lot, stressed out and trying to get his life together. He felt he had reached his limit and I was the last thing he needed. First, he wanted to get matters straightened out with his wife. Also, his job was very demanding. That made him happy and boosted his self-confidence. Moreover, the whole family was financially dependent on him, because his wife refused to work now.

On the one hand, I understood her. She had raised three children virtually alone and was perhaps burned out. She had also “socialized” Jemo; introduced him to society, so to speak. At the age of 21, he came from another cultural background and she showed him our way of living and had been his first contact. He also learned the language from her. I think this created a strong tie. It may have even made him dependent and, of course, very thankful. Any person with his or her own characteristics is a world of their own. So, how must it feel when somebody comes from another social background? I did not think it was a good idea for his wife to be sitting at home with two adult children and two teenagers. There was no self-affirmation, no purpose in life, no meaning. I think it must be terrible for a person not to work because no friendships are formed, there is no financial independence, and one will not feel needed. She had too much time to think; she may have become unhappy and, therefore, raised high expectations on the relationship. The partner’s quirks may be grossly exaggerated. And, according to Jemo, they really had severe disagreements over trivial issues such as cleaning. I told him that I did not think that was very smart. Actually, it was not my place to form an opinion, because I had not been there and I did not know exactly how the two functioned together.

Now about Jemo and me: He wanted to stay friends. I wanted a friendship as well, of course. I was still in love with him and told him that. The time with him had been the most intoxicating time of my life. Although he broke up with me, until yesterday I hoped that we might get back together again. He was very sobering, however. He told me that he thought he did not love me anymore. I wanted to know since when. Then his son arrived and he did not answer. The conversation ended and we agreed that we would call each other again. I wondered when that would be. I was quite sad. I had not imagined it that way. Of course, it is said that an ex-boyfriend is like reheated, mashed potatoes: it fills you up, but it doesn’t taste good. I wanted to have these reheated potatoes. At least I did not cry even though I felt like it. I didn’t understand what was happening. After all, we had spoken about children and I wanted to have children only with someone whom I deeply loved and whom I would be attached to forever. I was sad, furious and disappointed. I never expected there to be complications with his divorce. Most importantly, he had already been separated for over three-quarters of a year. That is why I thought we had a chance. Deep inside, I thought that he was not satisfied with me being a housewife. Maybe he would have been happier with a woman who had a similar educational level and a successful job.