Remembering David with realism… is depressing. I was so happy when he was charming me. I didn’t have a clue of what was coming. I thought we would be together forever, the happiest couple on Earth. I still think it, and he hasn’t seen me in six months. But, don’t worry. I’m starting therapy on Wednesday.
Here’s a happy memory of when we were at our best. I refer to this period as ‘The Israel David’ and ‘The Israel Rivka’, the time (and place) when we were the best possible versions of ourselves.
David had a heter to do four things on Shabbat: he was allowed to light cigarettes or joints, he was allowed to take hot baths, and he was allowed to watch DVD’s. Reasons: PTSD, Crohn’s, Crohn’s, and PTSD. And believe you me, you do not want either of these illnesses for even one day to see if movies and marijuana actually help. They do. One Shabbat afternoon, David invited me to watch a movie in his room. This was the promised land for me. I never, ever went into his bedroom, even when he wasn’t home, even if I could see dishes or dirty laundry on the floor. Feeling safe is a huge personal concern to David. I never understood what it means to him, but I simply avoided his bedroom out of respect for him. When he invited me into his lair to watch a movie, I was giddy. You will find that I usually describe myself as ‘giddy’ or ‘enthralled’ when I am with David. He has that effect on me. He had in his collection of ultra-violent movies, a few kung fu films. The one he wanted to show me starred a tiny Chinese girl who was the best master of Drunken Kung Fu. Sorry, but I don’t remember her name. The film was really good. I enjoyed the intense fighting. The ending, however, was not cool. The heroine had to choose between saving her lover or saving herself. The lover sacrificed himself so that she could survive, and then she was a widow at age twenty. Not a good ending. David and I laid together on his double bed, with the movie between us. Not one part of our bodies ever touched. I suspected at the time, that he was testing me. But the sheets smelled like him. I could smell him all over me and around me, and I rolled in the sheets like a cat. I am told that other people don’t experience scents as a tangible object the way I do. Oh well, sucks to be them. Meanwhile, the sexual tension was at its highest level yet. Maybe he would finally kiss me? I was watching the movie, but I was also watching my breathing. Mustn’t give too much away. Mustn’t forget to exhale. Every fine hair on my arms was erect. I was coiled with adrenaline, but the movie would end, and then I would have to say ‘thank you’ and get up and leave. I am such a goofball, that I actually smiled for days. Yet I passed the test, whatever it was, and I did make it past the threshold several more times. The next time would involve actually touching him, but that’s another story.
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