On the other side of the shared apartment casting

August 8, 2023. At half-past six, I was awakened by the urge from my overfilled bladder. Rising from my duvet-carpet sleeping spot, I darted to the toilet. I peed and peed.

"So, when will it finally kick in?" the thought buzzed in my head. But to my surprise, I noticed no blacking out during the long urination. This state usually occurred when I got up too quickly in the morning and emptied an extremely full bladder or after a hot bath. This dizziness had accompanied me since my youth. Why wasn't I dizzy while urinating?

"Maybe cold showers have stabilized my circulation a bit," I pondered.

At breakfast with my mother, she told me that today she planned to declutter her phone—shopping apps, Telegram, and the thousands of photos she had accumulated in the four years since owning her iPhone. Naturally, I was pleased that I had infected her with my enthusiasm for digital minimalism. During the conversation, she recommended a multivitamin supplement for my hair loss, which she believed could be due to a vitamin deficiency. I took her advice and took the multivitamin from the kitchen.

On the train ride to Hanover, I came across an interesting article that linked hair loss to coffee consumption in some subjects. This was another reason to reduce my coffee intake. Perhaps my hair also reacted to too much coffee?

After arriving at the flat around lunchtime, Lina was busy cooking in the kitchen while Vanessa quickly cleaned the bathroom before the candidates for the flatmate casting arrived. That day, four people came for the viewing. First, the all-black-clad, rock music-loving Maria, who brought along her "hip-attached girlfriend." Then Maya, the introverted version of Maria. Next, the psychotherapist Lara, who joined online. And finally, unfortunately for only half an hour, my favorite, Antonia. She had studied marketing and was now pursuing a more creative direction by choosing fashion design. Antonia was cheerful, friendly, extroverted, and interested.

After this exhausting, long casting, where I felt weird repeatedly telling the same story about myself, I lay in bed tired and thought about not just reciting my resume in future castings. Instead, I could share only what seemed most interesting and relevant to the person I was speaking with. Of course, I would first need to engage with the person and understand their interests.

That night, I was once again at Dax, even though it wasn't a good idea since I was quite exhausted. Two guys, to whom I had tried to make believe that I didn't drink alcohol, still persuaded me to drink a tequila with them. At least they also gave me a glass of mineral water to quickly get rid of the taste.

"The guy behind, my friend," one of them said, putting his hand over my shoulder, "may be a professional dancer, but he's nowhere near as good as you."

A black employee, who was just cleaning up the shards and puddles at the counter, smiled at me when I took a short dance break. With an African-sounding accent, he said, "You're like rubber, so elastic. Do you have bones?" and laughed. I stood in front of him and danced elastically.

"No bones. Just rubber," I shouted to him. He laughed again, showing his white teeth, which shone particularly brightly in the neon light. As the dance floor got a bit more crowded, I danced with a brunette woman, probably around my age. With a gesture, she showed disinterest. Obviously, she was there with a guy, as she turned to him and danced with him.

I sat down near the DJ booth and felt demotivated. Suddenly, she came up to me and extended her hand.

"Come on!" she called out to me.

"No, thanks," I shook my head.

"Come on!" she called again.

I relented and took her hand. She led me to the dance floor, put her arms on my shoulders. I took her by her swaying hips, and we began to dance. The dance became more energetic until we started flailing our hands around and goofing off. She turned around, twerked directly in front of me, I took her by the hips from behind and pushed my groin against her butt as if I were screwing her. The surrounding guests turned to us and started whistling. Then she turned back around, kissed me on the lips, gave me a high-five, and returned to the other guy.

I sat back down near the booth and pretended like nothing had happened. However, now I was in an incredibly good mood, which I expressed on the dance floor in the following minutes. I danced with all the guests, men and women, and infected them with my good mood. I picked out a tall blonde girl from a group, who had been staring at me with a amazed face the whole time, turned her to me, and we danced together. Our movements were asynchronous and awkward, but it seemed like no one minded. On the way home, I met the group at the station again and we took a group photo before I boarded the tram.