Ben

Since our meeting again in Berlin, Waldemar and I had developed an intimate but casual relationship which was typical of that period of my life. I knew at least half a dozen young men in much the same way. We would not see each other for weeks or months at a time. Then the telephone would ring. “Christoph, can you lend me ten marks?” “Christoph, can I stay at your place tonight? My landlady is acting funny.” (“Acting funny” meant that the landlady got tired of asking for the rent.) It wasn’t that Waldemar and the others were just spongers. They simply though that friends should help each other; that the arrangement happened to be more or less one-sided was, from their point of view, merely an economic accident. Waldemar was a charming guest—one of the kind who feels it is his duty to entertain the host, not vice verse.