A Lovesick Criminal's Memoir

Introduction

German. What a wonderful language. Flexible, pragmatic. Gentle, yet firm. The true language of love. I've never felt more adored than when my beloved told me three simple words. Ich liebe dich. My interest in the language was earned when I was very young. One of my father’s associates had come to Moscow from Bavaria to discuss business for a few weeks. I don’t remember the man’s name or his face, just that he shared my love for romantic literature and prose. He taught me a few words from his native tongue, basic phrases such as ‘how are you?’ and ‘I feel fine’. Before he returned to his homeland, he gave me a small collection of books, all of which he told me were captivating reads. All of them in German. Thus began my enthusiastic studies of the language, just so I could read and understand the books my father’s friend had given me.

My favorite word in the German lexicon is not a common noun, verb, or an adjective, but a name. Ludwig. Light and airy in pronunciation, powerful in definition. ‘Famous warrior’, it means. How fitting that such a name was given to a man who radiates strength and intimidation. Despite this, he had many less impressive nicknames. To his wife, he was Viky. To his brother, he was Lutz. To his friends, he was Ludva. But in my arms, beneath the sheets, naked and panting, he was just Ludwig. My Ludwig, and mine alone.

Indeed, Ludwig was a beautiful man, but he wasn’t my first romantic experience. Far from it. Like my fascination with German, I realized my attraction to the same sex at a young age. At one point, I had a brief affair with a Lithuanian boy, whose personality would define the traits that made me consider certain men more attractive than others. My ‘type’, as some would call it. You would think such a perverse habit would be the thing that got me incarcerated, but that's not the case. In reality, I’ve been declared guilty of far more sinister crimes.

I suppose I could give great detail about the unlawful things I‘ve done, but that’s not what I’m writing this for, is it? No. I’m writing this for Ludwig. That way everyone can know of the gorgeous man who stole my heart. That way his memory can live on forever, immortalized in paper and ink.