My 16th Shame

“I used to call you “my air” since you were literally the best kind of oxygen, I have ever inhaled…”

I wrote this in my diary, slightly trembling from the thoughts of you. Dating you lasted for two weeks with the passion of a one-year relationship. I could start thinking about you and a quick glance at my watch would shake me by realizing that my imagination has detached me from this world for two damn hours.

Mike wasn’t tall, not that I cared about it anyway… His brown hazel eyes did it all. He was a very talkative man, but his eyes said completely different words to me. I remember our first date. I never told him that way before I met him, I was with the guy who served us at that bar.

After two weeks of opening up to one another (to a certain extent of course), Mike rhetorically asked me: “15 men, Belle, what if we see one of them when we hang out? How am I supposed to feel if it happens? Especially knowing that this guy also got to see your naked body... ” When I recall his words, I struggle to recall his countenance but rather his body language, I can remember too clearly. It was a weird scenario of us. I was sitting on his lap as a young girl who made foolish mistakes and was now lectured by her father. He seemed disappointed, I remember, but at the same time so assuring. Assuring that we can get past my past.

I have never seen Mike since then. Do I regret breaking up with him? I`d regret dating him if he saw one of my exes and was embarrassed by me.

Mike, if only god had sent you to me 15 men ago, we wouldn’t have had to break up. But he didn’t, therefore you are number 16.

My Air

It was their third fight when she decided to break it. She couldn’t’ handle it anymore. 

“Oh, the frustration is unbearable”, she said. 

They dated for 4 months and only after breaking up she has realized how emotionally and sexually numb she was. 

She always says, “love me as if I will not be here tomorrow. This is how love should be, it should never cease, it should never become routine”. 

There wasn’t love apparently, only tears, lots of them.

When you are with someone and your bodies speak more than your vocal cords do, doesn’t it feel like you are in the middle of a burning fire? The energy, his eyes, the warmth of his body sets you inside a flame. You just want to be touched, felt, passionately kissed. You wish you were raped by him right now. You want to be ravished by this man in front of you. That is how she felt towards that guy. That guy revived her. He was her home, full of decorations and sweetness which was her saving breath, a second from death. His smell, his tongue and the way he moved it all the way up her neck, close to her ear so she could consume his breathing sound so strongly, she felt his soul in her.

“Kiss me, don’t stop” she buried her nails in his back.

 He didn’t feel any pain but her throbbing heart.

She couldn’t sleep that night, she was laughing to herself, smiling nonstop. His eyes won’t get off her mind. This light brown melted her. All she did that night was recalling his touch. His hands in her hair, stroking it while her head is on his chest, praying this moment will never end. When she was on top of him, he felt so helpless asking her to stop so they don’t get too far, crossing boundaries. But she wanted him to touch every piece of her body.

“I am begging you, just a little,” she said, and he kissed her even harder.

The palm of his hands holding her face, making her his. There wasn’t enough oxygen in that room for the both of them, so they inhaled each other.

A Repairman Requested

A Repairman Requested

One of the moments that a young adult may never forget is the moment of the “talk”.

“Make sure Angelica, that he does not touch you in your private places, ok? Not even your arms” my mother said to me, gently patting my arms, barely looking into my eyes- wishing this moment has never arrived.

“Okay mom, of course not” 10 year old Angelica replied, barely understanding what her mother meant exactly but she was too ecstatic about her first boyfriend anyway.

There is something in me that will never forget that evening. I was a sexual kid since the age of 10, nothing really caused it, this is who I was. I always wanted to have a boyfriend. Those days back then when I used to lose my breathe over those four times, I was asked to be Dan’s, Rick’s, Jason’s and Austin’s girlfriend. I can still hear the Messenger’s default ringtone in my head, the butterflies I had in my belly- made me so so sick out of excitement.

I lost my virginity at the age of 17, my mom knew and since then I am the “obscene” in the family. If I ask myself whether I loved that guy or not, I can’t tell. Maybe I did when I was with him but now, after counting all the men I slept with by the age of 23 it is hard to determine who I loved and who I never did. Being so open shuts you down, being so careless makes you worried, giving yourself effortlessly causes trust issues.

Can one fix this? I couldn’t.

Another Dimension

My stories are like the heat of a fire. You look at it and you wonder, what is this orange, goldish and red power in front of your eyes. It attracts you as it attracts oxygen, though it dries you out of it as well. You want to know it, you want to explore but, alas, the pain it may cause.

It is a reflection; the colors are memories. Feelings. You open it and you enter a whole new dimension of the unknown person you have known for so long.

US of A

“What’s the problem with just blue and white, Sarah?” my psychiatrist asked me, trying to understand the madness behind my words. It was just an obsession, I knew it long ago.

“Are you asking this seriously?” I asked him, arching my eyebrows, surprised how he couldn’t understand, “who wouldn’t want some red in their lives? Just a great addition to the lonely white and blue who are so sick of one another already.

The red, sir, the red is everything about this. The temptation, lust, eagerness. It is the red that the blue and white need”

He nodded, laying his mouth on his thumb “so you are saying, the red makes you feel….”

“It makes me feel good. Empowered, independent, invincible” I interrupted his words so he couldn’t be wrong about what the powerful red does to my life. “You see, the blue and white know everything about each other. They are incompatible, like oil and water. So, the white goes to seek something mergeable, till it encounters red. It is all about red, their culture, manners. Red is so different than blue and white sir, it accepts you. “

“What is so…different for you, Sarah?”

“Once you stare, once you observe you notice things you have never thought of before. Their attire, accessories, speech, language, even their skin sir, their body's hairs. It is the differences that attract the eye, the passion.”

I never wanted something different from myself, but lust got me. How could I ever resist this red fantasy?

“The red is the stain that connected two great nations” I was trying to explain it to my psychiatrist, why I was into something so foreign and unshared with my surrounding. 

My Detested Frost

You chased, you gave, you wanted, you cared, you prayed, breathed, wished, hugged, kissed…

You cried, you broke, you ached, you bit your lip out of the pain you went through, you screamed, you asked- “what is wrong with me?”

“Why do I deserve this?”

“What am I doing wrong?”

From the dark, cold winter to the beginning of the flourishing spring. You changed as the leaves. Vulnerability to stability, paleness to colorful, wrinkle to softness.

You stood there, whirlwind moving your hair, clothes, values. You did not blink. Your hands spread to the sides, welcoming. The cold wind penetrates everything. Your skin pores, your ears, mind, soul. You are cold, paralyzed inside. You hated to feel this way, but you were helpless.

And when it is over, you hear birds’ songs, the air is filled with blossoming roses’ scent. Sun touches your skin and you are breathing again. Sun gives you hope, melting the icebergs that were left in you from the passing winter. Cheeks turning reddish and so does your heart. From the embracing new breeze.

Although it is spring now, cold air comes and goes, cutting you like a knife. Reminding you it is always there.

Who let you in Frost? Your time has passed.

Lucy

You have a real fine girlfriend. She is everything you have ever wished for. She has long black hair, soft skin, long legs. Her beautiful tits are what make you lucky in life and her ass is all you ever needed. She is completely loyal to you, she would kiss you and tell you how much she needs you all the time. She dedicates her time, energy, efforts, and neediness all for you. She is a walking piece of heaven, you have been blessed. But when the two of you walk together and pass by other males, she would lower her tight shirt’s zipper to expose more of her solid, jutting tits. She would look at the floor, not making eye contact with the other men but she makes sure you see them drool. She would stick out her ass when you two standing and other men pass by. She would move her hair from one side to the other, over and over again. She would send you a screenshot of other men's comments on her sexy photos on Instagram just to show you that her "battery is about to die". She would make a good impression on your homies just so they “like her so much, maybe you should share”, your homie winks.

But you just stand there and wonder, why does she try so hard. 

Off-Target

I was waiting for the nine o’clock train to Tel Aviv. Right next to me I saw a well-built, young soldier, with a giant gun lying between his thighs. A long red Pringles tin was held in his left hand while his right hand was all the way inside it. I was sure it reached the bottom of the tin. I realized I was staring.

“Want one?” the lad’s right hand was now out of the tin, tilting it towards my direction with a sexy smirk on his face.

“ah, no. Thank you!” I said, blushing, but managing to show a soft smile.

He had the kindest eyes, a countenance of a strong but somewhat playful man.

“Where are you heading to?” he attempted to strike a conversation.

“Just Tel Aviv, to do some shopping and walking around” I said back while looking at his wrinkled uniform. I assumed he must not have a girlfriend, maybe not even a mother.

“What about you? Heading home from the base?” I almost forgot how to communicate.

He would laugh at everything I said. He kept on chuckling as if I was telling a joke and he was enjoying himself.

“Yeah, I have a month off” he said back. His voice was manly, thick, and pleasant.

“What's your job?” I was curious to know. I didn't know a lot about guns, but I could see that the one that laid there was one of a kind.

“I am a sniper, of a special unit” he said, as if he loved the sound of it, but didn't try to boast as he moved his eyes trying not to look straight into mine.

“That's impressive. Are you any good at it?” I asked back, trying to give him some confidence in his words. Though I liked to see how shy he was for talking about himself so much.

“I like to think I am pretty accurate…” he laughed slightly, lowering his gaze down to the Pringles tin in his hand. I let him lead the conversation because I didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable.

The sniper and I were the same age but for some reason, it felt like we had a wide gap between us.

“This is my stop,” I smiled as I grabbed my bag to leave.

“This my number, maybe we can hang out or something?” Of course, he chuckled again as he handed me a perfectly clean white piece of paper with a number on it.

We managed to talk everyday all day for two or so weeks. Our communication was constant, sharing photos, daily activities, we knew all about each other’s routine.

Our first date was simple and amusing. We concluded we like being in each other’s company, I saw a spark that started the fire of love- which led us to many more meetings.

We were sexually hungry for one another. We made love that set us on fire and caused us feel heat waves all over where our bodies touched. He used to bury his hands deep in my skin, holding me fiercely, without the pause of a second. His hard kisses turned into the bites of a starving man, he moved so passionately that I could see the hunger in his eyes, the kind you wouldn't expect to see on a patient sniper.

I thought I had made him softer, but my relationship with him barely held for a month. They say never expect anything from anyone, but when you love someone you naturally expect love from them, but it did not happen. We were sculpted from different materials. I was fire and he was stone, I pulled closer and he drew backwards because he did not let anybody step into his private world. He didn't know how to embrace what I was giving.

 When a sniper is revealed he is weakened. He can hurt you and reach to you only when he is disguised, then when I tried to reveal his emotions he pushed back.

“You are too much, you give too much, and you ask for things I am incapable of giving you. Haha” this was one of his last messages, he was devastatingly accurate, and I have realized, this sniper is disguised too well.

I spent months eating Pringles straight from the tin, recalling my salty memories with the sniper to whom I was too warm. I hated the fact that I was too much for a man. I hated being so extroverted for such an introverted person. He made me feel like a crazy person but as a matter of fact after thinking for so long, I was not. I just needed somebody to love but our definitions of the word “love” …were completely different.

Five years later, a risky army operation that required all the special combat units to get to the border was announced everywhere. Back then, I was already married to a great man. My life was pretty peaceful, the way it was before that day at the train station. I had a beautiful daughter-Genesis, to whom I had unconditional love for. I moved to Tel Aviv with my husband after we got married and our life put me at comfort. I became an English teacher, just like I always wanted. I was happy in my world after learning so much from my actual experiences. I spent time with my family with whom I had a reciprocated relationship.

But the day of the annunciation of the operation made me uneased. I was home with Genesis- the TV was on, screening the news- following the military chief announcing the main goals of this operation. I was concerned and focused on the news when I thought I heard hesitated knocks on the front door.

I asked Genesis to get it.

“Mom…. “she pronounced it longer than usual.

I came to the door to see the sniper standing there wearing his war uniform, which I never thought could be any more wrinkled than the time I saw him wearing it on the train. He did not look so well. He grew some beard, his eyes looked as if something was shut down in him. He gulped as he moved his eyes from little Genesis to look at me. I was paralyzed for that very moment, I just stood there frozen, in my own house. All I needed was to see his face again to remember, everything came back to me. A tear ran down my cheek, but it was not right, so I quickly wiped it off.

He was a good sniper, but this time he missed the target.

Skip Dinner Be Thinner

Skip Dinner Be Thinner

“Yo panda bear!” shouted Chris Donovan, the most popular jock in the school, while he laughed at Madison Eatmon with his jock buddies following him.

Madison was a tall, wide girl, presumably the biggest in her school. She had a beautiful face, but it did nothing to help her hide the extra 20 kilograms of her full body. She was bullied and laughed at almost every day, but this was her last day of misery; The last day of high school.

Madison was not the most social girl, but she followed every celebrity on Instagram. They became her idols, with their tight and skinny bellies, thick bottoms and narrow hips- all provided with a strict fitness routine.

“You can make it happen if you wish for it,” her dad said from behind after peeking at Madison’s phone. Madison kept staring at this strong fitness model on her phone, “you think so?” she did not wait for a reply since what she needed to hear was already said.

*Alarm ring*

8 in the morning. She looks messy but she reached that point of motivation. It has already been the 10th morning she went jogging. She would wake up and make a strong black coffee to give her the energy she needs because this is what they say to do. She would run miles over miles, not willing to stop. She would come home and trash the chocolate chip cookies she used to have every morning and replace them with a full meal of proteins and veggies. This was her limitless routine: run, eat, sleep, and repeat. Her old gigantic clothes did not fit her anymore- her body fat vanished within 4 months.

The day before college loaded her with extra motivation to keep pushing herself to the celebrity body she was aspiring for. She bought new clothes and tried them on over and over again, she took a closer look at herself in the mirror grabbing the extra skin that is left on her belly but then sighing with dissatisfaction.  

She did her morning run today too, of course, but she was not letting her new clothes be worn yet. “I did have an extra piece of bread this morning” she said to herself. She rushed to the bathroom, agitated by the thoughts of her breakfast, and without hesitating too much, she leaned down to the toilet, throwing up her morning meal. For a few seconds she breathed heavily, wiped her mouth, then washed her face to look refreshed and less pale.

First day of college she let herself wear the new clothes she had bought. She walked in the campus with her shoulders back, looking at people in their eyes and not on the floor- she went straight to her locker while people’s comments made her walk with a smirk on her face. She closed her locker and she saw Chris Donovan’s face right next to her, he turned his head to look at who was standing next to him and for a split second he did not recognize her.

“Madison?!” he arched his eyebrows together. She looked at him, taking a step forward “panda bear for you,” then walked away. She never entered the cafeterias, dining rooms or the food stores in the campus- she had her own box of veggies and a bottle of water. She did not need real food since people’s positive comments fed her well enough.

She couldn’t get enough of it, she threw up at least once a day, and with her weight loss increasing by each day, she measured her body every morning, kept track of her belly, always making sure it was skinny enough. This was her new routine, and since it was never enough, she never stopped. People now commented on her skinny body as they could see her bones- she was not getting any compliments now, so she pushed harder, running miles twice a day. Her skin never looked paler, and the black circles around her eyes became more and more visible. Her shoulders bent when she walked, once again to the bathroom next to her class.

Chris Donavon was right behind her, holding the bathroom’s door open before it closed completely. He heard her try to throw up, his jaw muscles tightened, his heart was beating fast, realizing what was happening. He burst in the bathroom when he saw Madison laid unconscious on her own puke on the floor. He rushed to her, carrying her in his arms “Madison wake up!! Madison…. I am sorry! Please wake up!!” 

Wilted Love in Little Tokyo

Wilted Love in Little Tokyo

My Japanese love started in 2016 when I was just 18 years old. On summer- break from college, I decided to go to Japan, to experience something different from the banal American culture that surrounded me. I met Ichiro at one of the bars I first attended to in Japan. Ichiro was almost six feet tall, his hair was black as coal with a sharp shine. He had a swimmer’s body, not too buff nor too lean- the one you would see in Korean fashion shows. Or maybe it was Japanese.

That night, when his mouth curved to a flirty smile exposing his white perfect teeth and his eyes narrowed till you could barely see them- I fell in love.

We spent this month together as if we were in a relationship for three years already. He showed me around more than I have ever expected to see, and this became a one-month routine. Our mornings started with a traditional Japanese breakfast and ended with several cocktails at the same bar, where we met, and finally making love in his bedroom.

We were on our way to the airport, holding our hands not ready to let go, “I will message you when I land back in California, drive safely back home. I love you” I said before I pulled him closer for a long farewell kiss.

“Okay” he said back, giving me that same first smile I fell for at that bar.

I landed in California and headed home to San Francisco, “I am home! What have you been up to?” I messaged Ichiro while I was waiting for a taxi. I held my phone so stiffly that it left a mark on my fingers- there was no reply.

After realizing I was just a one month stand for Ichiro by getting no response from him, I found myself depressed and desperate to reach him in any way possible, unsuccessfully. I wanted my time back, I wanted the memories to fade away but at the same time, I wanted to feel the same way as I did then. Wherever I went I saw him. I hallucinated Japanese people on campus all the time.

“Jess, if you really want to recall your experiences with this Asian dude why don’t you go to Little Tokyo?” My best friend asked me, persuading me to make a closure and leave my broken heart on the shelf of tiny furry hearts you see in the Little Tokyo resort stores. And so a week after returning from Japan, there began the end of my Japanese experience.

I clicked “accept”. Reserving a single room in “Kimpton Buchanan Hotel” in San Francisco Little Tokyo. “Be ready for a full Japanese experience” said the page after my payment. Was I ready?

I packed a bag and courage for three days, knowing that this is going to be a proper goodbye from my Japanese experience.

Everything in Little Tokyo screamed “Ichiro” to me, the red and white colors of the buildings’ walls, the Japanese letters on each store, the anime posters on the walls. It all reminded me of him.

I finished my nights with sushi and cocktails at Hinodeya Ramen Bar, just like we used to do together. Around me there were happy people, laughing and drinking as this was a vacation for them but for me a business. On my way back to the hotel I saw this one store called “Kawaii”, this is how Ichiro used to call me. I put my hands on the store’s glass to look inside. The store was of tiny dolls, Hello Kitty in so many sizes and colors, Pokémon creatures, small vintage furniture for decoration and plenty of tiny furry creatures with huge sweet eyes. I looked up again at the name of the store wondering what it was about, and why did this name fit me.

On my last day in Little Tokyo I decided to go to the famous event of the Cherry Blossom Festival. I thought it would be the proper way to separate myself from this colorful culture and put it behind me. The festival was just like I wished it to be. Food stands everywhere selling Japanese food on sticks and in origami boxes, actual cherry blossom trees hypnotizing by their delicate pink color. There were also Japanese melodies heard around, the ground was covered with hundreds of picnic blankets with families and couples dining on. I captured this moment in my head and my camera- this is how I wanted my Japanese experience to end, and not with a broken heart.

When I was waiting for a taxi to take me home, Ichiro’s name appeared on my phone: “This is Ichiro’s sister, I noticed you tried to reach him and I figured you were someone important since your name is shown as “Kawaii- My Cutie” on his phone- I got to turn on his phone just now. Ichiro was involved in a car accident on his way back from the airport last week. He was found dead”. 

Anything is Possible

Любовь зла, полюбишь и козла

(Russian idiom which means: Anything is possible when it comes to love, you don’t get to choose who you fall in love with)

The first thing that attracted me when I saw David’s face on my phone’s screen was his pale skin. I know, it sounds the complete opposite of attractive, but I have always found myself attracted to white Ashkenazi boys. David and I met online, and people always ask me how a dark-skinned Moroccan woman like me could look for someone who comes from such a different culture with different values. As a matter of fact, I have dated both types of men - Ashkenazim and Sephardim. David, and I suppose the Ashkenazim, won this battle.

Our first date took place on November 22^nd. It was wintery outside, the snowfall looked so delicate from the restaurant’s windows from which we were dining. It was the best date I could ever ask for. I started running the scenes from the beginning of that night in my mind, I could conclude it then.

“You are such a gentleman, you know?” I asked rhetorically.

David chuckled, showing his wide, beautiful smile. He barely looked me straight in the eyes and I found that to be respectful. His shyness was such a great quality and it led me to compare this type of man to all the bold Sephardim men I have dated before.

“Why do you think that?” he asked me back.

“Well, you don’t see men holding the door for their date anymore, do you? Nor paying the whole bill, or opening the car door for them…” I sipped from my drink, impatiently awaiting his reply.

“I don’t know who you dated Rachel, but all of I did so far on this date are actions that are obvious to me and are supposed to be done, this is what my mom taught me anyway.” I could listen to him for days.

David asked me so many questions in order to get to know me, and he listened curiously to whatever I said. He wanted to know it all, and I could see he was making the calculations in his head. For everything I said he did the one plus one equals who he thinks I am. I did not mind it, I thought it showed that he cares and “that is what Russians are like,” or so I was told. Our expectations were met each moment we spent together, and I was not scared of our differing values, he made me curious and passionate about our differences, especially when he helped me put my coat back on when we left the restaurant.

I stopped counting our dates because we found ourselves together almost every day. We decided to spend our Friday night together for the first time. I am observant, quite religious actually, and David is pretty secular, but we promised to try and respect each other when it comes to religion. This Friday night was incredible. I cooked my special, hot Moroccan fish before Shabbat started. David always said that he loves spicy food, but nothing really prepared him for this one.

He wiped his mouth and said: “the seasoning you used for this fish is nothing I have ever experienced in my life.”

I laughed out loud, “I did hear that Russian food barely contains any seasoning, and that’s not even talking about the spiciness!” I joked, while removing the plates from the table and carrying them to the kitchen. While putting the plates in the sink I heard David’s ringtone. He picked up and began to speak Russian. This was my first time hearing David speak it. It was not the first time I have heard Russian, but this time I actually listened. When he spoke it, the language was nothing like any other I knew nor heard before, and I could not understand anything. I tried to relate the words to other words that sounded the same but nothing of what he said sounded familiar or associative.

I washed the two plates and then I returned to the table, David had just finished the call and said, “My mom really wants to meet you.” He did not look at me while saying this but instead looked at the table, trying to stick the bread crumbs to his finger.

“Oh!” I was ecstatic, “that was your mother on the phone?” But of course this was his mother on the phone, she is the only person to whom he speaks Russian.

“I would love to meet her, David” I finally managed to say back.

“I told her we will come tomorrow, it will be her birthday too” he said back, this time raising his gaze to catch my reaction.

“Tomorrow?!” Yay!!” I showed him a wide smile and happy eyes that I couldn’t hide, I was thrilled. I was going to meet his mother!

We ended our Friday night breathing heavily in bed, I laid my head on David’s chest- resting after another great love-making. While I was trying to catch my breath, I grasped his arm firmly, not wanting to let this amazing man walk out of my life.

I woke up to the sound and touch of a kiss on my cheek. I turned around to look at David smiling at me, “good morning,” he said.

“Good morning” I smiled and put my arms around his neck, pulling him closer for round three.

We got up to get ready to meet David’s mother, Anna, and we decided to stop at the flower shop down the street. When we walked inside the store, David let me pick the flowers that I thought to be the most beautiful.

“Give me twelve of these, please” I said pointing at the purple Verbenas. “A dozen of these would make a beautiful bouquet, right?” I said quietly, looking up at David.

“Ah, please make it eleven” he said to the old lady, waving at her and she nodded, taking one out of the bouquet she was already holding.

“What? Why eleven?” I chuckled, trying to understand what the problem was.

“It’s…It’s stupid, but Russians don’t give someone an even number of flowers. You would do that only if it is meant for a funeral” He said with an embarrassed half smile, handing the money to the cashier.

While walking to Anna’s house I wondered if there were any other funny superstitions like the one with the flowers, but I guess this was part of the beauty of how different we are.

Anna’s house was in the third floor of an old, four story building. We stepped up the stairs and when we reached to the door I searched for David’s hand and pressed it. Anna opened the door with a big welcoming smile, she did not approach to hug me but instead extended her hand to shake mine. I shook her hand and passed her the flowers I was holding, wishing her a happy birthday. She grabbed the bouquet and smiled, “Aw, you really did not have to” she stared at the flowers for a moment as if she was counting them.

“Here, let me take your coat” David said from behind me, while I was looking around the house.

The house was not big, and the first thing I noticed was David’s grandmother who lived there with Anna, sitting in the living room corner, sewing something furry. Behind her there was a long wall covered with a gold vintage wallpaper with old alike, white flowers. On this wall hanged about sixty or so different decorative plates with different drawings on them. Flowers, Moscow maps painted in different ways, angels, leaves. Next to this wall there was a tall, glass-door cabinet which contained tiny, pearl colored tea glasses and a black and white photo of a beautiful young man. The house looked old with vintage furniture but very unique in its own way.

“Meow…” I heard suddenly, and looking down I saw a beautiful white hairy cat rubbing himself against my ankles.

David’s grandmother did not speak the language, so with everything she said I found myself turning to David for translation.

David laughed and said, “She said you are as beautiful as an Egyptian princess.”

I could feel my cheeks begin to redden, but I managed to say “spasiba,” as this was the only word I knew how to pronounce in Russian, and it means thank you.

While they were all laughing at my thick accent we walked to the dining table which was already perfectly set. I looked at all the food that was waiting, it looked so different from what my family makes. Even the smell was strange. I could see cabbage rolls stuffed with meat, rice, two types of soups and several kinds of salads with mayonnaise topping all over them. No tracks of oil, red seasoning or spiciness.

“Wow, thank you so much for all of this Anna” I said while taking a seat.

“We are very happy to finally meet you” Anna said back with a thick accent. It was obvious she is Russian and not only by her speech. Anna had beautiful blue eyes and a thick blonde hair tied with a red velvet hair band. She had extremely long nails painted in purple.

“Baruch ata Adonai eluheynu melech Ha-olam, She-hakol nehiya bedvaro” David’s grandmother said the partial blessing and I smiled, although I could not really hide my shock, and then we all replied with “amen”.

Anna told me that her mother is quite observant too, even though she did not remember the whole blessing for Shabbat dinner except for this part. I did not see this coming, I did not know that any observant Russians still existed. Usually they are the complete opposite of religious, but this old lady did not forget her roots. I nodded to her with a smile of appreciation for making the alleged cultural barrier vanish, if even for a moment.

“Here Rachel, have some of our famous Golumpki” Anna said as she moved the cabbage rolls closer to me. I took some and surprisingly it was not bad at all, just different.

“Thank you, everything is really good- I have never had Russian food before.”

“I am very glad you like it” Anna said back and then added “so, what do you do for a living Rachel?”

David put down his fork and moved his hand on my lap.

“Well, I will finish my English degree next year, I am willing to teach in high schools,” I smiled to her as I replied.

“How lovely, sounds like a decent plan…Maybe you should consider applying for a job in the High-Techs offices, I am sure they provide a better salary.”

I cleared my throat and nodded, “maybe.”

“David listened to me when I told him he should go study mechanical engineering over traveling and look how well he is living now. He has his own car and apartment…”

“Mom…” David interrupted her.

“What? It is important to aspire highly” Anna said back, wiping her mouth gently with a napkin.

“Oh, I certainly agree” I sipped from my drink, I was not going to tell Anna that where I come from, doing what you love is more valuable than how much money you will be making and I think that is what David liked about me the most. I was different from him, in every way. My parents never pushed me to aspire so highly because getting just what we need and not necessarily want was enough.

“Thank you again Anna, this was a pleasure” David and I were standing next to the door, ready to leave. I hugged David’s grandmother because this is how Moroccans show respect and love, and although she did not hug me back, her eyes expressed love.

David and I held hands on our way back, I felt happy and satisfied and David supported this feeling.

“Thank you, Rachel, for being so amazing and patient with them” he said as caressing my hand with his thumb.

“David, I had such a great time. It was different from the big and noisy dinners we have with my family, but I love it. Knowing we both accept and respect one another no matter how different our backgrounds are is what important to me.”

David stopped to hug me, kissing my forehead and then looking straight in my eyes, “I love you,” he said with no hesitation.

“I love you too” I said with wet eyes and a large smile.

Who knew love has such power of coinciding two distinct individuals from two different worlds to one mutual accepting reality.

David and I got married two years later, on November 22^nd, our wedding was everything we wished it to be with Ashkenazim and Sephardim dancing and laughing together. An even number of flowers decorated the beautiful garden our wedding took place in, and two different cultures became one in the name of love.

-The End-

Dating Apps Work

At the age of 23 I decided- it is about time to find the one. And so, I searched for an online dating app since men wouldn’t just approach me and... isn't it trending now? I found so many apps, some asked for too many details for completing the profile. “Eyes color”, “hair thickness”, “how often do you drink”, “how good are you in bed”- answering those.... you wouldn’t even have to talk to the person when you meet them, you just go straight to a relationship or even better- a marriage. I tried another app then, which did not require too many specific details. I filled the basic ones and uploaded three photos. It did not take a while until 150 men messaged me, liked my picture, my profile, swiped me to the right, marked me with a star, clicked to follow me, poked me- so with all of the notifications, there is no way you miss the ones who are not your type. I did not give up though, I kept on looking for the best dating application. I found this one attractive app, that was slightly different than the previous ones. It did not ask for too many personal details and the greatest thing about it was that you can choose from who to get notifications or not. So only by liking the guy you could see if he liked you\messaged you, but this thing works both ways. 
If I liked the guy, he would never be able to know it unless he likes me back. 

After a couple of days, I received a mutual “like” notification from Johnathan. The basic details just said he is 23, lives “close by” and I loved the two photos he had on his profile. We decided to go on a date. I could not take the smile off my face, he is the one. I was happy to see, dating apps do work! 

After a whole month of great dates and sharing some basic information about each other, I asked Johnathan if he is Jewish. This should have been my first question actually since I am Jewish- I was not going to compromise over this detail. 

“WHAT?! You are not Jewish??..... Why didn’t it say so on your profile?!”

“Oh well, because you only have to fill in the basic information on this app…” He replied. 

Summertime Affair

Summertime Affair

“I am so sick of this semester, I have been studying like a maniac” I said to Robin and Helen my only two best friends. “Yeah, and the dreary freezing cold outside is not adding any good to it” Helen agreed after another puff from her spliff. It was wintery outside, snowing, which is untypical to Florida. We used to hang out a lot in Helen’s apartment, I guess because it was so cozy and warm, though the heater was never on. Not once did I ask myself why I am so attached to this apartment, but I never admitted out loud that sometimes I just go there to see Austin, Helen’s roommate. He is barely there when I am there, but I guess today was my lucky day. Austin was a student too, we used to go to the same university but he never talked to me. God help me, Austin just stepped out of the shower, a white towel wrapped around his hips giving me the blessing of the day by showing his muscular V-shaped lower abs. The spliff I was holding now in between my fingers fell on the floor after this brief glimpse, and I automatically moved my head to look at Robin. Robin opened his eyes as he was sharing a mutual excitement with me. All a sudden I felt a warmth rushing through me as if my blood was on fire, the palm of my hands got sweaty and I was scared Austin would notice it, but the man is pretty oblivious to his surroundings, so he did not. If I went outside, I would have probably exuded steam due to the contact of my boiling body with the cold atmosphere. Austin never really spoke to me, and Helen always used to tell me that Austin is more into dumb blondes. I was not dumb, nor blonde. And so, days passed by, we finished our first year in college and summertime was just around the corner. Robin and I used to go more often now to Helen’s apartment since it was our summer break. Though these times were different; Austin’s contract in this apartment came to an end and he moved out. So, I just came in to smoke, laugh and leave, there was nothing for me to anticipate.

The next day was the usual, it was pretty dry outside, not so hot nor humid. It felt more like European weather than the typical hot- burning weather you would expect in Florida. I was on my way home from the gym when I heard my phone alerting me of a notification. I opened my Instagram and I saw Austin’s name asking to follow my profile. I screenshotted the moment in my phone and sent it to Helen saying: “look who is into dark-haired girls ;) ”. Never in my life did I imagine having such a deep and funny conversation with Austin. The typical Florida sizzling weather was now my body. We talked about everything, for days, morning till night and it took us just three days to want to meet up, and so we did. Our dates couldn’t be any better, Austin is not only this hot, Greek God look-alike man, but he was also soft and gentle, and he loved to touch me. His touch would set my body on fire, giving me heavy breaths and a racing pulse. On our third or fourth date (not that it matters…) he invited me over, it took him too long to ask for that. I had been waiting for this moment since the first day I saw him, or maybe since that day he came out of the shower in Helen’s apartment. It took us less than 5 minutes to strip each other down, we threw our clothes on the floor, not even paying attention to where they landed. His body was firm, some areas were hot some were cold and sweaty, he was nervous, I could feel it. We kissed for god knows how much time, while touching each other everywhere. I noticed his right hand was not on me anymore but trying to open the window, we were both hot, blazing and sweaty though the heat that came from outside did not help us out. Just great, the window let such a hot wind come in if like the heater was on. Or maybe it was just us. I moved my hands on Austin’s abs, I felt every muscle and vein pumping through his skin. When he was between my legs, the walls around me felt on fire...

The day after...

“Tell me everything!” Helen pleaded, emphasizing the “everything” while the three of us were sitting in her apartment again. Robin was about to say something too when all of a sudden we heard loud, strong thunders and a pouring rain like never before. We could barely see through the windows since the rain quickly turned to ice. “What the…?” I mumbled staring at the windows. 
“Will you tell us already what happened with Austin???” Robin asked impatiently as always. “Austin who?” I replied. Their countenances reflected confusion, so I helped them out, “it was nothing more than a summertime affair”.  

Mallory

Mallory

Winter was Mallory’s favorite season of the year. After three years of an intense relationship with her beloved boyfriend, she knew it was coming. He was a hard-working man, spending hours in his office. Getting work done, presumably. Mallory couldn’t wait to show off the shiny, sparkly engagement ring that now laid in his first dresser drawer. 

The thought of how much Mallory loves the white snow covering the naked tree branches crossed his mind only briefly while he was uncovering the legs of the gorgeous secretary that laid sprawled across his desk. The day happened that the sun shone again, melting the snow off the view, and the ring disappeared from the drawer but not to Mallory’s finger. Mallory discovered this as she stepped into his office, bringing him lunch and coffee from his favorite place, finally ready to confront him. The moment she saw that secretary leaning on his desk, she couldn’t miss the shiny engagement ring that was supposed to be hers. Mallory looked straight in his eyes as if the moment froze like the snow that had just until recently covered everything outside. She took off her wig which she had been wearing for the last 3 months, threw it on his desk and said, “you are not the only one who has secrets, good luck dealing with your conscious for cheating on a sick woman”. 

Contractors and Dog Tags

 Leah was 18 when she met Joe. A big, buff black man, army contracts was his profession.  

They have been together for 10 months, hiding their relationship from the outside world when black and white in this area was absurd. Joe was Leah’s first love, she loved him in a way words can not describe. Joe was respectful. He was a very peaceful kind of man, a bit dramatic but Leah loved it about him. She always wanted to feel like in a movie, and these dramatic scenarios, that occurred infrequently, were needed to complete her excitement in this relationship. The touch of his hand was all she ever wanted and needed in life, she missed school, she was barely at home. Blind and bound by his love.

It was an awfully cold and windy night, the first candle of the Hanukkah holiday. Leah wanted to show Joe what it is like to celebrate Hanukkah together for the first time. She bought five different types of donuts and brought them to Joe’s apartment which was not so far from where she lived. It was one of their best experiences. The freezing cold outside the apartment couldn’t penetrate the heat the two spread when they were together. Leah lost the track of time, she completely forgot she was supposed to light the first candle of the holiday with her family. She realized that when the strong sound of a knock on the door filled the room. Leah knew something bad was happening. She was in a constant fear that her family would find out, her father would never forgive. Dating a Christian black man was a sin. The worst scenarios crossed her mind till she heard her biggest dread calling her name outside the door, “Leah!!.....Leah! Open the door! I know you are in there!!!”.

Joe looked at her with despair, not knowing what he is going to face by opening that door. Leah’s eyes filled with tears while Joe took his dog-tags chain off his neck and put it on hers. He made sure her black shirt covered them. The door collapsed by a cop and Leah’s father on his side. The expression on his face made Leah sick, this was her worst nightmare. He grabbed her by the arm while the cop pushed Joe away from their way. There was not a word said, it all happened so quickly.

Leah turned to open her dad’s car, in a constant cry, not being able to think about anything else but the anger that filled her soul. She did not want the family that was waiting for her to light the Hanukkah candles, they couldn’t replace the enormous love she received from Joe. She could not open the car, she knew that if she is going home with her father, she would never see Joe again. She took three steps back and ran back to Joe’s apartment. “If you walk away now, you are not welcomed in our house anymore” her father shouted from behind, killing the silent street. Her eyes were red as the donuts’ jam, she bought earlier, she could hear but not listen, all she wanted was to be back in Joe’s arms and so it was.

That night was something they both wished to forget. They laid in bed facing each other as he caressed her cheek and asked: “are you sure of this Leah? You know that in three months you will have to find a place to stay in”. She held his hand that laid on her cheek and said she knows, she has never been so sure in something as she is now. Their night ended as they made love, kissing and touching every area of each other’s body, breathing each other’s breathe and burying their fingers in the flesh, as this was their very first time.

Three months were well spent, Joe’s contract in Israel was about to expire the next day. They did not waste their time, they made love at least twice a day, Leah cooked and cleaned, and Joe provided her with money for whatever she wished. During their last week together, they mentally prepared themselves for the separation. They played “Don’t Forget to Remember Me“ by T.I on repeat and that made Leah ask, “do you think you gonna forget about me?” Leah asked while sitting on Joe’s lap, looking straight into his eyes. “I never will” he said back, holding his dog-tags which were hanging on Leah’s neck. “You see those” he said, “hold them tight when you miss me, it will give you strength”. “I will find my way to America, when you are done with the contracting, I promise” Leah said back and kissed him firmly, thirsty for his warmth again.

Nothing prepared Leah for the heart break she felt when she dropped Joe off at the train station. Their hug lasted for continuous minutes. She could barely look in his eyes because of the tears that bothered her vision. He left. There was no where to go to, no one to cry to. The sorrow became her best friend.

While going through a severe depression, Leah knew that her family won’t shut the door to her face if she comes back and so she did. She entered the house and did not leave her room for 10 days and just after a month she decided to find a job, though the loneliness and the morning sickness she couldn’t hide anymore made her write this:

“Dear father,

I can’t look you in the eyes for all I put you through, for the million time you were right. He never cared about me, I filled his boredom here in Israel. I was what all the contractors look for. I was nothing more than that. They come and go, not caring about what they are leaving. Joe blocked me anywhere on social media on the night he left, I spent 10 months killing my family for someone who killed me”

Leah’s father finished reading this in a trembling, breaking voice, crushing on his knees, while the paramedics loosed the dog- tags chain around Leah’s neck and determined her death.