My heart remained broken for a long time

Let me briefly step over to Budapest:

„Auf Wiedersehen. Es war wunderschön,“ I said in tears, bidding farewell to Forrest, a centaur pounding his hooves against my heart. Out of nowhere, the German language slipped onto my tongue.

I staggered over to the broadcasting building, leaning my hand against the main door to regain my balance—but I didn't find it.

I saw Forrest standing over me, somewhere in the camp, and then he shot me in the forehead.

Probably echoes of past lives.

*

“Tu es ma coccinelle rouge,” he used to tell me, as well as that I had an ass like a pear and that he had one like that too. I don't know if that pleased me, but in any case David B. was my French friend whose hobby was picking interesting things out of dumpsters.

"Look what I found!" He showed it to me with a child's joy. I didn't share his enthusiasm at all, but the truth is his apartment was full of interesting things—and I don't judge him for this hobby at all, I even understand it.

*

"Well, I'll stop by for my things in the afternoon." "No, you won't, you're taking them now." I look at him—I don't even know his name anymore. A quick dump wiped his name right out of my head. I didn't take it personally. But he was the first man who almost bit my fingers off while making love—and yes, that too is testimony that in the second millennium, a first date isn't without sex. To my credit, I have to conclude that I probably did a good job for him.

*

Men let me go from their lives with such ease—with such ease—as I had never encountered anywhere else.

Everything else was accompanied by a certain heaviness, but otherwise they knew how to edge me out of their lives elegantly and quickly—and I let them. It had never occurred to me to beg—I took things as they were. I don't know if that's a sign of low self-esteem—or simply that I am stoically calm.

I tried an open relationship – it didn't work. I tried a traditional relationship – it didn't work.

And eventually, everything stopped working.

I got hives just from reading that this one is a bottom and that one is a top, this one likes this and that one likes that. And as time went on, there was less and less space for me, until there was none left at all.

And that's why I've been alone until now. There was no one I fit into their box.

*

There was yet another man, René, whom I met in the Prague gay club Heaven, René, whom I traveled to visit in Switzerland in 2007, who told his mother about me over the phone; there was an age difference of about thirty years between us, but his mother advised him to hold on to me—especially if I made him soup.

René was a very kind and passionate man. It is precisely because of him that I do what I do today—it was he who, through his questions, led me to realize I want to be a tarot reader. That winter at his place, it became clear to me—that my dream is to have a fortune-telling parlor and read cards.

Regardless of whether our love was pure or not, my teacher told me something about it being an addiction—and years later, I realize: "And what isn't?"

I broke up with René over the phone and it hurt a lot. Had I not placed my "old" life into the hands of my teacher—the way it used to be done—perhaps I would be living in Switzerland today with a view of the Alps (the view from his apartment was breathtaking)—but I surrendered it to her hands—and with even greater spiritual detachment, I know I did the right thing.

*

Let me return to Budapest for a moment.

The hardest experience in love awaited me right there. Only there did something like the hidden symmetry of love in our family take effect. I felt the women of the lineage standing behind me, damaged from their relationships—some with impaired mental health—and when I broke my heart (what I call assumed responsibility for love)—I felt pulled to jump from the third-floor balcony onto the hard concrete. At night, I held on with both hands to whatever I could to overcome that great pull forcing me to kill myself.

And also the echo of a past life, when I was shot by a Nazi official—and I, in love, would jump down again, to free Forrest.

That did not happen—my heart remained broken for a long time. At that time, my good friend Benjamin Chan Chi Wai and his wife Queenie Pang, from Hong Kong, were a great support to me. Thank you for their support and for their love from afar, which helped me through those bad times.