"Is it possible to replace the poisonous arrows and the dirty bombs with some vegan alternative and some almond cream? Thank you. And oh, I’m allergic to nuts."

Adventures! I shout, my eyes glowing, my voice dripping of excitement, my spoon scratching out the very last bits of Nutella. A real adventure, full of danger, wild animals, exotic food and near death experiences!
She looks at me with the critical look of someone checking a pack of milk for their expiration date. Her face is very clear about the result. ADVENTURES! i shout.

There are two kinds of people. And there is me.
There are people who one day just burn all their stuff, leave everything behind and walk into the sunset, barefoot, free and with a smile on their face that is bigger than anything that lies in front of them. People who ride on trains through the country, a guitar in their hands, a straw hat on their head and a fire in their heart.

There are people who discover long lost temples of doom with a fedora, a whip and a fully grown designer stubble. Who search for sunken ships in the middle of the ocean, who eat half-hatched eggs in the Philippines, fried tarantulas in Cambodia, Scorpion Soup in China or Corndogs in America. There are people who love adventures. People who always look for the new, the exotic, the unknown.
And there is me.

People like me live and love adventures. We have watched Indiana Jones over twenty times, we know every Anthony Bourdain episode by heart and we are right there, in the middle of a stormy night, with a hot chocolate in our hands and a blanket on our feet, when Bear Grylls eats giant larvae on TV and drinks his own urine.

People like me don’t need a compass, we simply inspect the moss growth on a tree. We know the morse code better than our own phone number and we know the Amazon better than anyone else. Hell, we even write reviews there! 

People like me are perfectly prepared for any kind of adventure, especially since people like me make perfectly sure to never actually end up in one.



"We want to go back to nature, grow our beard, eat some roots, smoke some weed and wear hemp shirts like a real badass!"

The truth is, we are sissies. Hard and cool is way to uncomfortable for us. We shower at maximum heat and use lotion. Raw is risky. We overcook our snake heads. Can you imagine the salmonella?! There is one thing we are really good at - and that’s running away. Try catching us, mate. Our kind has perfected this survival strategy for tens of thousands of years!

Of course we are brave! Ambitious! Adventurous! It’s in our blood! It is only a bit.. diluted. Kind of like homeopathic solutions.
The memory of what once was a manly, hairy, muscular ancestor, it is still there, you just have to believe in it!

It’s not like we do not like adventures. It’s not like we don’t want to be part of it. All we expect is a certain degree of comfort. And that any potential adventure lasts no longer than 120 minutes (150 if it’s directed by Peter Jackson) and ends with a happy end at 9pm sharp, right in time for wheel of fortune.

The same way Indiana Jones would prefer his tombs without snakes and James Bond his martini shaken, not stirred, my kind of adventurer would prefer their adventure lactose-free, topped with a king size portion of adrenaline and directed by Roland Emmerich, only, could we, like, is it possible to replace the poisonous arrows and the dirty bombs with some vegan alternative and some almond cream? Thank you. And oh, I’m allergic to nuts.
It’s not our fault! You had it coming! You just had to introduce us to microwaves and Netflix, didn’t you? You successfully domesticated a once much wilder, stronger and less bikini-waxed beast of prey and introduced it to pizza delivery and cubicles. 


We all knew where this was gonna end when we discovered how to use fire and now you have no right to complain about us as it is just as much your fault as it is ours! After all, we are the victims here! We WANT to be adventurous! We WANT to go back to nature, grow our beard, eat some roots, smoke some weed and wear hemp shirts like a real badass! 

We have planed our backpacking tour through south-east Asia for almost a decade now! We want to sleep in hammocks under palm trees and we want to eat weird food that has no stickers on it and maybe, just maybe, we will even ride a donkey our touch an elephant or something!

We have long thought about going to Africa for a year as volunteers, eating some real squid or assemble that Ikea shelf all by ourselves!
We actually already bought the right toolbox for that, it is bright red and has some screwdrivers and pliers and these round thingies you can stick on the long thing.. it’s pretty cool!

If we find the time for it, we certainly will book a trip to one of these exotic countries in the south, we will get to know other cultures, meet new people, discover ourselves! It is about time to finally get out there, to be a man, to take some big steps and to make a difference! We’re basically on our way already, all we need to do is to get some medication for our allergies, and a backpack, and we certainly will have to look into that, I mean, you can’t just buy ANY backpack, you have to research that, and also plan a route, and I don’t actually know if I will have the time this year, I mean, I’m so really really busy with work and stuff, but I am already planing for next year, it will be big, trust me on that! I’m basically gone already, all I need to do now is to find the perfect time, I mean, I have so many responsibilities right now.. but you know what they say - you only live once, right?!

"Life in the bubble is the sissy's way of carefully using Old Spice for your body but No Tears for your head."


The key to success, in my world, is a bright pink bubble of what-ifs. It is the perfect balance between our primal need for adventure, adrenaline and excitement and the much more important need for comfort, security and four layers of toilet paper. It successfully bounces off Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, combining both our self-worth and our self-preservation into a parallel universe of I-would-definitely-do-that and Ahhh-shoot-but-I-have-this-really-important-thingy-tomorrow. 
Life in the bubble smells like artificial strawberries and tastes like manliness. It’s the sissy's way of carefully using Old Spice for your body but No Tears for your head. It is that thrill of excitement when you stand in front of your mirror in the complete Jack Wolfskin spring collection and growl like a bear.

It's the litres of adrenaline that drip down your armpits while your 3D glasses make you feel like you’re right there, next to Bruce Willis, the bullets flying over your head and the smell of fowl zombie breath in your nose. Or was that the guy next to you? 

It’s really too bad we don’t have a car, otherwise we’d have stopped talking by now and gone out in the wild, hunting some deers and making some awesome barbecue with our Jamie Oliver grill! But have you seen the statistics on car accidents lately? It’s not like I have to prove anything..

The pink bubble is a beautiful place. It’s the last stand of our self-esteem. It is cozy and it is warm and it protects us from the dangers of suddenly sitting in a restaurant, a fork full of tentacles in our hands.

The what-if world keeps harm away, it provides us with adventure in the save environment of a fancy hotel with air conditioning, room service and a mosquito net big enough for the breakfast buffet.

There are people who love adventures. I’m not one of them. I don’t like adventures. I like my bed. Wifi. A (mostly) clean toilet. Damn you, Rachel! It was your turn this week!

But I also don’t like the bright pink bubble. The usual, the normal, the familiar.

This is me, trying to escape.