In tonite’s post, I mean to push myself as a writer. This experience is challenging for me to vocalise, so let’s just call it a draft.
I never liked kissing. One of my college boyfriends, Hayden, used to tease me that I kissed him like a grandmother. Mind you, I can get into kissing when things are hot and heavy; but, for the most part, I was never a fan of kissing – AND… I get damned disgusted when someone shoves their tongue in my mouth. “Do not put your slimy tongue in my mouth”, I say, “I already have one in my mouth and I don’t need another one.” It is really bizarre that I usually don’t enjoy kissing because I am an extremely sexual womyn. My lovers have never been able to satisfy me completely. I have always had to hold back.
One day, I was visiting David in his apartment in Toronto, the pink womb. He called it that because the entire apartment was underground and painted a strange shade of salmon. He hoped it would be his “safe place”, but it never was. His landlady lived upstairs and had dementia. I don’t want to write about that war yet; it was too sad. As for David, he said he wanted to be called ‘Pinchas’ now. I don’t like Pinchas. He’s a prick. This story is about me and David.
I had been hanging out by David and I think I wanted to run to the corner store to buy something with caffeine in it. He asked me to pick up a pack of cigarettes and held out the money. I hesitated because I don’t like to buy his cigarettes for him. If he wants to smoke, that’s one thing, but don’t ask me to enable. He said ‘please’ and, of course, I caved. Svengali. I stepped over to him and took the money. I was looking down at the bills in my hand and furrowing my brow. “Rivka”, he said. I looked up at David, and he kissed me. His lips were so soft. Honestly, I think it was the most perfect kiss I ever had. Everything is different when a person is with their zivug.