All about Yuri!

So it seems that all this time that I’ve allowed my mental instability to play on the internet, like the irresponsible parent that I am, I’ve been forgetting one very important person. Not so much forgetting, but just kind of allowing him to have his privacy, as it were.

But as it were, or is…or whatever, this particular person doesn’t much care for privacy and has given me permission – nay, begged me on bended knee, with rose in mouth and bottle of wine in nostril – to put up his private exploits on my blog. And hell, his mental instability plays with mine when we get together so how could I refuse? So here is one of Yuri’s exploits, for there are many:

On a particularly warm October night (because this year was freakishly hot), Yuri found himself in Berlin. Not so much found, as drove there for a trip that had been planned for some time. And being in Berlin and single and sexy and all, he decided that he should go find himself a man; someone to satisfy his penchant for angelic sexiness.

So he did. He found himself an angel. Or, rather, that’s what he’d tell you if you asked, because  – you see  – the guy had curly hair and blue eyes (and things don’t get much more angelic than that). Curly hair AND blue eyes, just ask Yuri.

The angel and Yuri got along quite well and after a few drinks were aggressively making out in the corner. Inconveniently, at about the same time a friend of Yuri’s launched into a crisis, so Yuri – being half man, half heart – ceased making out with the angel to be supportive.

But before he dashed off, he sat the angel on some steps and told him to wait.

The angel was supposed to wait.

But the angel did not wait.

Yuri came back and searched the stairs, then glanced up at the ceiling (just in case. You never know with angels, they’re tricky) and came to the conclusion that his angel probably got bored of sitting on the stairs and went to get more angelically pissed.

WTF angel?!

Now, if this had been a Jane Austen novel Yuri would have penned his disappointment to his understanding and witty sister and all would have been well and witty. But since it’s the 21^st century, Yuri came upon the happy realisation that he had a phone and several fingers (at least ten, but maybe as many as fifteen). So in a very sane and balanced way he called the angel THIRTEEN times and left FOUR voicemail messages.

Angel did not like this. Or maybe he did. Who knows what angels are thinking anyway? The important part is that he never called Yuri back.

In the morning, when the clear light of day hit the call history, Yuri came to the stomach-turning realisation that – oh yes – he had called the angel THIRTEEN times. Therefore, being a rational human being, he decided to call again to apologise (fourteen).

The angel did not pick up and everybody came to the unspoken understanding that he had only ever pseudo existed anyway (in much the same way that McDonald’s only pseudo exists when you smash three meals after a big night out).

Unfortunately Yuri’s pocket had other ideas and mere moments later called the angel of its own accord.

This time the angel picked up (of course he did).

What he heard on the other end wasn’t the heavy breathing usually favoured by stalkers, so much as a whole lot of rustling followed by a whole lot of swearing (the point at which Yuri realised what his pocket had done), followed by the hang-up tone.

It took Yuri a little while to regain his composure, but when he did he decided to turn the whole hopeless situation into a joke, so he wrote: “I’m the hottest stalker you’ve ever had”.

To which the angel responded, “I want to die” (or some such nonsense).

And Yuri promptly wrote back something to the effect of “Should you ever die, please leave me your underwear.” A little stalker joke, if you will.

Silence. The angel didn’t respond…ever again.

Yuri told me this story over a delicious home-cooked dinner. It was the closest I’ve come to expelling food out of my nostrils in quite some time.

And there you have it, a Yuri production – and at least one-fifth of the reason I love Munich the way I do; it has a Yuri.