This short contemplation is inspired by CocoRosie´s Lyla. Thanks girls!
Now and then my partner and I get invited to nice dining places, private clubs, backyards and homes where people sip champagne and munch little canapés. I put my social game face on, and enjoy it – more or less. Occasionally one might discover a real gem, someone who sees it all through and laughs about it. Then it´s a real fun! But often, unfortunately more often than one could have ever imagined, I bear witness to an awkward awkward situation we as a german-slavic couple get framed into:
“So, how did you two meet” it starts off usually, with an ironic subtlety in the voice. It mostly comes out of nowhere, from girls and boys alike, those who think money can buy love, and that they are sooo smart to have seen it through. Wink wink.
“I bought her in a catalogue” answers my b-friend cheeky “she was the most beautiful one.”
The person blushes. A righteous bluntness cuts even the evilest tongues.
“Yeah” add I ” – and the only one with a PhD!”
The blush turns into a snoot. Touché! I put a cross on my list for smiling politely and talking down to – my subconscious revenge.
After this point of no return, there is only one way out, and those social freaks know it:
“Let me get a drink”, they say.
“Tschüssiiii”, say I, singing the iiiii at the end just a bit too long and a tone too high. In my language a substitute for fuck off.
_____
CocoRosie “Lyla”
“You wanted to buy me for a hundred euro
You said you’d take me to your little car
Your friend lived near by, he had a house and all
Well, it’s not Yugoslavia
It’s not Yugoslavia at all
About a little girl from Yugoslavia
She got sent away, they made her prostitute
She ate McDonald’s all day
And never had a chance to play
Lyla, Lyla, Lyla
You said you’d take me to your little car
Your friend lived near by
He had a house and all
Where was I from, you said
You guessed Yugoslavia
But it’s not Yugoslavia
It’s hardly Yugoslavia at all
Lyla, Lyla, Lyla
Lyla, Lyla, Lyla
Lyla, Lyla, Lyla
