Page 2 of White Room Virgin

“Nice,” Lucien said and glanced out of the window, appearing to be bored.

It seems he’s not interested in a discussion after all.Why? Is it because of ETH? After all, it’s considered the best university in Switzerland—if not the world. Or is it because I screwed up my face when I took my first sip? I must have done something wrong. I wonder if he had anything to say about me moving in. Maybe his friendliness is just an act?I gave myself a slight shake, barely noticeable.No, no, no! Martin warned me. Stop it!

Lucien folded his arms behind his head. “So, what’s happening on the other side of Switzerland?”

“What do you mean?”

“Party? Chicks?”

Embarrassed, I lowered my head and held the bottle in my hands, turning it around as I searched for a suitable answer. Normally, I didn’t mind admitting that I had no experience in this regard. But Lucien’s confident manner somehow had the opposite effect.

He leaned in, arching his eyebrows in skepticism. “Don’t tell me you’re a nestling!”

“A what?”

“A nestling. Someone who spends all day in front of the TV and has never had sex.”

The blood rushed to my head and I felt hot. “What? I … no! We don’t …have that at home.”

Lucien let out a snort and hit the table with his palm. “Holy shit, you poor thing! Well, I guess it’s time to change that as soon as possible!”

“I … I mean … I’ve studied a lot,” I stammered, gripping the table tightly, with my right leg nervously tapping. “I worked a lot on the farm, got involved in church and stuff. There wasn’t much else to do.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“No,” I replied and took another sip of beer out of embarrassment. I was convinced that he had already figured me out. It was as if I had a sign hanging from my neck with the truth written in big red letters:virgin. That had never been a problem for me before. It irritated me all the more at that moment that the topic made me uncomfortable in his presence. Lucien’s mere presence bothered me.

“Oh man…” He shook his head in disbelief and put out his cigarette in the empty ashtray. “Well then! Welcome not only to your new home, but also welcome to your new life!” Without another word, he snatched both bottles of beer and went into his room.

What the hell is that about?Perplexed, I remained sitting, staring at the poster of Warhol’sGunon the wall and wondering about my new roommate.Did our interaction go well? Or was it more of a disaster? Should I have apologized for mispronouncing his name?

2

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Jonah

Two days later, I was running along the Limmat, a river that flows across the city, and the conversation with Lucien was still buzzing around in my mind.Why exactly did he laugh at me? Is it because I have no experience with women, or because I grew up without a television?

Where I came from, it didn’t matter if you were a late bloomer; the village was small, and the nearest town was far away, which meant the choices of finding a partner were limited. What’s more, my parents kept telling me that this would save me a lot of problems. I was no longer sure whether they were talking about television or intercourse.

Lucien had seen through me, and it was time to make a change. Nothing better than that. I hadn’t just come to Zurich hoping to have a great time at university––I wanted to meet women, enjoy life, and go out with friends. But Martin had not only warned me about Lucien, but also about the people here in general. I didn’t know what he was trying to protect me from, but I couldn’t wait to meet new people.

Maybe I’ll meet someone I can go to Mass with on Sundays. If that someone is also a woman, then that would be perfect.

Since I’d been in Zurich, I’d kept asking myself what it felt like to kiss a woman and wondered how I’d managed not to think about it. Sometimes I even caught myself toying with the idea of relaxing the strict basic values I had been drilled into at home. Why wait until marriage? What was wrong with looking for a girlfriend now that relatives were far away? The prospect of broadening my horizons had been one of the reasons I had escaped the constraints of home.

When Martin left our village four years ago to become a doctor, he had said goodbye forever. At the time, I could hardly believe my ears. How could he just disappear like that? Sometime later, I wished I could summon up the courage to take such a step. I had become more and more aware of how dependent I was on my parents. And that hadn’t changed to this day––after all, they were paying for my studies and hoped that I would return to the farm afterward with my newfound knowledge.

With firm resolve, I cast aside the lingering thoughts. I had come a long way and studying at ETH was my ticket out into the world––and into a new life. I would make the most of this opportunity because my freedom wouldn’t last as long as I studied. And the carousel of thoughts continued.Would a good job be enough to convince my parents that I wouldn’t return? Or maybe a wife?

I walked under the Kornhaus Bridge and stopped. Overnight, someone had stuck several bright blue flyers on the wall. An elderly couple and two boys with skateboards stood in front of the wall, and I approached with interest to read what was written on the flyers.

“Love

Marry

Work

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