Stupid new smartphone. I dropped my eight year old cellphone on the train platform and it hit the concrete hard. It seemed okay, but now it won’t hold a charge; so I had to put it in storage with my Israeli phone, my Canadian phone, and my old flip phone – which all have photographs on them that someday I hope to retrieve. I went to the MetroPCS store fearful that a homeless bum like myself would not be able to afford a new phone, but also hopeful that I could get a deal and maybe upgrade my cellphone to an internet phone. That would be so cool. I used to watch entire movies on Youtube on my little 3cm by 5cm screen. Fine by me.
I got a brand spanking new LG Optimus L7 (The 7 means it’s special.)
I couldn’t wait to get on the internet. The first thing I did was download my contacts from Gmail. And there he was… a brand new photo of David. Damn. I did not want to see that. My first impression was, “He looks old…” hahaha
I immediately closed the app.
Okay. Gave it a few minutes. Now I wanted to see the photo again. Yes, he does look city-worn (old). He is sitting in a booth in a dark bar. Well that tells me a lot. One of his other targets (that he was working right in my face) was a bartender in a crummy tavern. He said he wanted her because she was committed to her live-in boyfriend. David says she was fair game because they weren’t married. Personally, I didn’t get offended as much as he hoped I would at the time, because I felt he had very little chance to seduce her. A professional barmaid gets hit on 500 times a day, and by better men than him. (And richer men, too.) He was dreaming. But I digress. The fact that he is in a bar, tells me that he still hasn’t found his place since he left Israel. My David would have taken his picture in a yeshiva, a university or a library. Or maybe on a mountain. Only a social loser takes their gravatar photo in a bar. Also, David had no yamulka on. Wow. That took me a minute to sink in. He looks just like ‘them’, the ones he always avoided because they don’t keep Shabbat. That saddens me, actually, to see him without a yamulka.
Next I looked at his expression. I think he looks… happy… maybe… happy-ish, let’s say. Clearly a ‘friend’ is taking his photo. Maybe he’s dating someone now?
And what about me? I’m gonna live. His face does not make me mad with desire. No urges to throw myself off a bridge. I feel kinda happy to see him, though. A very small happy… like we met in the airport on our way to different gates.
Which serves to remind me… that I am grieving what might have been. I am grieving the man he could have become, the family we would have had, the love we might have shared. Get over it, Rivka. David just doesn’t give a shit anymore.
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