It is approaching two years since her and I met and became inseparable. It was the (northern) summer of 2006 and I was in a pretty raw funk. My move to Stockholm was proving very unsuccessful. I would spent my days lying around in my hostel bed, pinning for my loved ones back in Melbourne and feeling completely at a loss with life. One day, in order to prevent further moping, I decided to go for a walk over to the Pet Sounds record store in Södermalm. The romantic fantasy of meeting someone in a record store was an idea I'd never tired of, and at that time I was desperate to meet someone, anyone. As I was flicking my way through the racks of obscure Swedish pop and modern day indie classics I noticed that a cute young girl had entered the store with a small box of cds. Although I couldn't make out all of the conversation she was having with the guy behind the counter, it was obvious that the cds in the box were of music that she had made herself and that she was hoping that the store would stock some of them. I decided I would approach her and inquire about her music, it was the most obvious ice-breaker. I was hoping that the flattery she would feel upon having someone ask about her art would cancel out the creepiness she would normal experience upon being approached by a stranger.
"Ursäkta mig, talar du engelska?", I said, knowing that my limited Swedish would struggle in a proper conversation, "Ja, I do" she replied shyly. From her initial demeanour it was obvious that in order for this conversation to blossom I would have to do a lot of the work. This was not something I was accustomed to, but if I was hoping to make a connection with this girl I was going to have to make the effort. I asked her if that was her own music in the box she was carrying. She replied in the affirmative and I proceeded to ask numerous questions about the her music. She was a modest about the details, but I managed to get out of her that she made bedroom electro-pop under the name Action Biker. Just as I thought the conversation was starting to dissolve, and she would make her excuses to leave, to my surprise she started to ask questions of me: Where was I form, what was I doing in Stockholm? Then when I mentioned that I was having trouble finding a place to live she somewhat astonishingly enthused "You can come stay with me!" She told me there was a spare room in her flat in Gamla Stan. She said the flat belonged to her grandparents, but the confined spaces and cobbled stoned streets of the old town had become too difficult for them to negotiate in their mature age. So they'd decided to move out to Västerås and leave the flat to Sarah at a cheap rent. "I'm sure they wouldn't mind if you moved in.", Sarah said, "there's definitely the space, and I think they'd take pity on a lost foreigner." I was a little taken back by how she could make an offer after such a limited conversation and I gushed "Are you sure?" several times. "Yes, of course", she said, "you are nice!" As if that was reason enough.
The flat was on the top floor of a building down the south end of Prästgatan, near the old parsonage for the German church. The flat had three bedrooms, one of which was, obviously, Sarah's, another of which she had set up a small home recording studio and the third that, for an initial period, became mine. Becoming acquainted with my new surroundings was a delight. The medieval architecture and confined cobbled streets were a vastly different environment to what I had been used to living in Melbourne. For the first few days after I moved into the flat I would just wander aimless around Gamla Stan, exploring the streets and alleys. And with Sarah having visited her grandparents frequently whilst growing up, I also had the advantage of her intimate knowledge of the island's nooks and crannies. We would eat lunch in cool little cafés and tea rooms or visit secluded and hip basement bars at night. Our rapport was developing and we were growing fond of each other's company, furthermore, I was starting to enjoy myself in Stockholm after I initially disliked the place due feeling unable to engage with it.
One day whilst out exploring the neighbourhood, skipping down the alleyway of Nygränd, I noticed a Help Wanted sign in the window of a restaurant. Although I couldn't read all of the text, I could make out that they were looking for a dishwasher. Washing dishes was hardly what I came to Stockholm for, but I decided that I needed the money and that I would apply. The restaurant was called Fem Små Hus, served a combination of Swedish and French cuisine and apparently had quite a reputation amongst Stockholm's culinary critics (they'd plastered their dinning room walls with awards and positive reviews). It wasn't the most ideal job, especially for a vegetarian, but without a fluent knowledge of Swedish my options were very limited. And besides, I told myself, a job such as this would build character. Keep me connected to the proletariat whilst I was pursuing my bourgeious dreams of becoming a writer.
As a "native speaker" I didn't find it too difficult to pick up some freelance writing work for some pan-Scandinavian magazines that publish in English such as Scanorama, the inflight magazine for Scandinavian Airlines, where I'd write blurbs about Stockholm tourist attractions, and the Nordic issue of Vice Magazine who were delighted with my witty and cutting album reviews. Although my evenings were occupied with washing the remains of dairy-infused animal carcasses from pots and plates, the position had the advantage of leaving me all day to work on not only my freelance work, but also series of personal short stories that I was hoping to get published. I thought that once I was able to compile a number of quality stories I would be able to shop them around to a few publishers in the hope that one might express some interest. The idea of having a book of personal and personality based short stories was to cultivate a unique public persona for myself that I could utilise to gain some sort of leverage and repute for other subjects I may have wished to write about.
Over this time Sarah and I evolved our friendship into a familiar and meaningful bond. The logistics of our lives became intertwined and I had a comfortability in her presence that I had previously never experienced with anyone else. We shared similar ideas about culture and politics and were more than compatible with our dark and all-encompassing senses of humour. When our opinions did differ our debates were lively and robust, yet never without respect and regard for the other's point of view. I had began to believe that Sarah and I should take our relationship up an notch and express our fondness for each other in a physical fashion. Unfortunately, broaching such a subject is not the easiest of tasks. Especially for someone like myself who has some problems with the ethics of heterosexual couplings in the first place. How could I, as a man, justify intimate relations with a women? Especially, such a beautiful and amazing woman as her. Heterosexuality just doesn't seem even. It seems grossly unfair to the female participant. If I was to become sexually involved with Sarah I would be perpetuating this raw deal women have received since the beginning of time. Yet there was a undeniable fire that burned in my loins and the tension that it caused between my principled rationale and my animal instinct was becoming a source of frustration for me. I tried to sooth this stress by telling myself that, although Sarah deserved better than the ceaseless and wretched shortcomings of masculinity, at least if she were to become involved with me my hyper-awareness of men's flawed essence, and my willingness to rectify this, would go some way ensuring that she would be treated in the respectful manner that she deserved.
My concerns became redundant when one night, whilst Sarah and I were watching a documentary on Swedish emigration to North America in the 18th and 19th centuries, she leaned over and planted a kiss firmly on my lips. I couldn't help but reciprocate, yet when we separated I smiled and asked "What was that for?". "I've been wanting to do that for the longest time. I just couldn't resist any longer. I hope you don't mind?", she replied. "I'll only mind if it was just a once off" I said cheekily, and we fell back into a extended tender and passionate merging of souls. Kissing Sarah was a phenomenal mind explosion, I had never felt so good before. Despite my previous apprehension, when locked in embrace with her the idea of us being together seemed perfect. I looked at her directly and gushed "I promise to love and respect you for eternity. I know that's a rather maudlin thing to say, but it's important to me to express this sentiment. I don't want to be like other guys.". She laughed, "I know you are not like other guys. This is why I have fallen for you."
I hate having to leave our bed in the morning. I could just lie there and snuggle with Sarah for months. There is nothing that makes me more happy. Unfortunately though this morning we had to rise not long after our 6.30am wakening. Sarah had a show that night in Malmö and I had organised an interview with controversial Farose pro-independence politician Høgni Karsten Hoydal that afternoon across in Copenhagen. We had borrowed Sarah's parents car in order to drive the 6 hours south so time for snuggling was just not available. I consoled myself with the fact that I would at least get to spend the day with her in the car and that after the show that evening we would once again be able to express our affection for each other in an intimate and amorous manner. As we had one final kiss before having to arise I couldn't help thinking how wonderfully my move to Stockholm had turned out for me. My writing was going exceedingly well, with my book of personal short stories having been recently published giving me the levity and self-confidence to pursue topics of my choice. But the most important element to my happiness was the fact that I had finally found true love. Sarah and I knew that we were to be together forever and that, regardless of any of my other successes, was what I had always wanted the most.
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