Mon 8 Mar 2010
Prague, Israel (Part 4)
Posted by shazamsf under True Story.
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[Continued from "Prague, Israel (Part 3)."]
After the incident with the neighbor I felt very uncomfortable in and around the apartment building; I did not want to run into the guy who was clearly “interested” in me in a very intimate way. Israel told me he’d talk to the neighbor.
A few days later when I came home from work Israel told me he had talked to the neighbor. He told me he had smoked a joint with the neighbor. Uh, my boyfriend thought it was ok to smoke a joint this guy who said he wanted to “get with me”? Let me remind my dear readers that I was 19. I had certain ideas about how a boyfriend should be. And I still have the idea that a guy who claims to be my boyfriend should have understood that if I’m upset at someone the best thing to do is not to smoke a joint with that someone, but rather to defend my honor.
Well, over that joint Israel got to the bottom of why the neighbor held out his wallet to me and said he’d pay to get with me. Apparently, my evasiveness regarding where I worked at night, by saying I worked “down the street,” had sounded to the neighbor like, “I work on the street.” He thought I was a streetwalker. And my boyfriend thought that it was funny.
That was probably the turning point in our relationship.
He traveled to visit an ex-girlfriend and despite repeated assurances that he would not have sex with her, he did. I cheated on him with a regular Q’s customer. When we were alone we drank a lot. I still couldn’t buy alcohol, but Israel could. He bought me Irish cream – of various brands – which I drank over ice.
But we didn’t spend much time alone together since we were both working a lot and I went to school as well. On Superbowl Sunday both Israel and I worked waiting shifts. As I’ve mentioned, I was not a good waitress. It stressed me out to no end. On Superbowl Sunday Q’s was packed with people watching the game, drinking, and eating.
For the Superbowl there were food specials. Only exactly what the food specials were was not communicated to us, the waitstaff. The management and the kitchen staff had different ideas of the specials. Those of us who were trying to earn tips didn’t know what the fuck to tell the customers. After being told one thing by my boss and another by the cook, I was pissed. My boss caught me just outside the kitchen.
I was mad, he was my boss. There were words, of the loud and disrespectful nature. He fired me. On Superbowl Sunday. I was actually relieved. I was doing a shitty job waiting and probably wouldn’t have been tipped all that well anyway. I handed my open tickets over to another waiter and walked home.
For the next few days I went to school and worried about my next job. Unbeknown to me, Israel was working on his boss – my former boss. He asked him to hire me back – because he was tired of having me around our apartment all the time. Nice. I went back to work, but no longer took any waiting shifts.
Israel announced one day that he had been to the local sex shop. Back then the local sex shop was nothing like my local sex shop, Good Vibrations. Back then the sex shops were dirty and sleazy and of the sort many people would only enter on a lark on drunk. He showed me his purchases, some skin magazines of the extremely large-breasted variety, and a strap-on harness with a dildo.
I wasn’t even sure what the harness contraption was. He told me he wanted me to put it on and to fuck his ass. I was a naive flower at the time. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t so naive as to think that him wanting something in his ass made him gay, however, I’m definitely didn’t fully comprehend dominance and submission/top and bottom dynamics. I had already participated in some BDSM activities up to that point (though not with Israel), but I didn’t get much other than I liked being teased a lot.
Well, I tried. I put the harness on. I had a cock. For about two minutes. I tried, I really did. I felt fucking ridiculous. And silly. I laughed more than anything and I didn’t even get close to fucking him. Which may have been for the best as I don’t recall him having brought home lube from the porn store.
The strap-on purchase was a last-ditch effort to make our relationship work. Another gesture that I considered downright ridiculous and silly was him asking me to marry him. I was all of twenty. He wasn’t much older. No matter what, no matter how young and naive I was, I knew that a relationship of six months in which we’d both cheated on each other was most definitely not a solid foundation for a marriage.
He seemed to think differently because he married the girlfriend after me. I never met her, but he and I continued to be friendly so I learned that she was older than him. I figured that by age alone she was more ready to be married. Many years later I know that there is a shit ton more to being married than “maturity.”
I swear. True story.














