I’m in Berlin now in religious exile. Actually, that’s probably an offensive thing to say. Sorry, let me explain. The reason I am no longer in Paris is because it’s Ramadan. Ader and I decided it’s just better if we don’t live together while he’s fasting. We did last year, and it was terrible because for most of the time my neighbor from New Jersey was in Paris with his high school students. They mercifully kept me busy all day and I could stay with them until nine something at night, at which point I went home with cupcakes or seaweed salad or whatever else I was craving. At night we ate and said and did whatever we wanted without stopping to consider how god would feel about it until morning.

But the days that we were sharing a confined physical space were pretty miserable. If I ate or drank anything when I knew that Ader couldn’t I felt terrible. When I didn’t eat or drink anything I felt terrible. I was reluctant talk, because I didn’t want to say anything that wasn’t allowed, because I didn’t completely understand the rules. Ader also didn’t have a lot to say to me either except occasionally asking me to put more clothes on (until the fast was over and he was back to his normal self). If I had to describe our relationship to someone who didn’t know us, I’d probably start by saying that we’re very affectionate and we love cooking/eating together. So if we can’t have any physical contact or meals together I’d rather juts not be there.

Even though I know it’s better this way it still kind of hurts that Ader would rather observe Ramadan than be with me for two more weeks. I know it sounds ridiculous to some people that I’m complaining that he’s choosing god over me. But from my perspective, he’s choosing something imaginary over me, his flesh and blood girlfriend. Oh well, I guess I should just be happy I found someone who makes me so happy, who’s willing to look my most irritating personality traits, and who gets along so well with everyone else I love. Getting to be with him all the time is I believe that’s what’s referred to as having your cake and eating it too, which is apparently not allowed.

So instead of eating my cake I’m in Kreuzberg eating falafel and seitan currywurst and patiently waiting for the sun and wishing my time away.