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In addition to H, I also brought JH down to Louisville. JH and I had met in Mexico as students during my exchange abroad, junior year of college. We developed a strange but deep friendship, and had traveled together to Guatemala and Belize. Despite our posing as a couple during our travels we didn’t have a romantic relationship. He was attracted to me, but I was not attracted to him at all. Therefore, I was just interested in being his friend and during my stay in Mexico I always had to tread that line very carefully.
He was tall
He was tall, blond, and skinny, had a goatee and was already balding in his twenties. His small blue eyes were squinty, and he stuck out clearly as tourist everywhere we went – there was no confusing it. He was from California and was a Mormon; during our travels together he gave me a Mormon bible with a hand-written dedication. This was a large part of his identity. He told me that he was not a virgin, and that this was a sin at his church, and that he had to confess it to the priest. I was a bit
I was a bit angry for him that he had to confess such an intimate act to a priest, but he seemed to not have minded. He also constantly wore a thin, white, breezy shirt made of special material, which he said was worn always for religious purposes.
I rebuffed his early attempts at converting me, and thought them quite funny. I told him that Jews would probably be the last converts upon the earth, and that he better climb someone else’s ladder. He respected that but still answered my curious questions, as I had not had a chance to
He respected that but still answered my curious questions, as I had not had a chance to speak to a practicing Mormon about the religion before. Before he met me, he went to Chile as a missionary, and once told me a story about how he and several other missionaries passed by a woman beggar, and tried to convert her, but did not give her money when she asked for it. They then got chased by an angry crowd. I remember thinking they slightly deserved it.
One day on Sunday during our trip to Guatemala and Belize, JH took me
One day on Sunday during our trip to Guatemala and Belize, JH took me to a Mormon church for his prayers, and left me on the door step to wait for him. I was outside in the courtyard because I was not allowed in, not being a member of the church. I didn’t mind the sunny courtyard but I was slightly annoyed. His religious concept of purity didn’t seem to have prevented him from rubbing my bare back with aloe vera gel in a small, hot hotel room after it was completely burnt during a snorkeling session in
His religious concept of purity didn’t seem to have prevented him from rubbing my bare back with aloe vera gel in a small, hot hotel room after it was completely burnt during a snorkeling session in one of the cayes off Belize. It was the worst sunburn I had ever sustained. I could not even wear my bra and was ashamed to wear a shirt for the next two days.
I was thankful for his assistance but was confused at how his religious conviction allowed him to travel with me. Despite the back rubbing and although we shared a
Despite the back rubbing and although we shared a bed throughout our trip, we did not have a sexual relationship, or even a kiss. I suppose we did achieve a certain intimacy not unlike that of a married couple, without crossing a certain line. The last night of our trip lying together outside in a hammock, before we were supposed to fly back to Mexico City, I made an advance on him and tried to kiss him on the lips. But he pushed me away; something in his mind reminded him that he was attracted to me but that I
But he pushed me away; something in his mind reminded him that he was attracted to me but that I was not, and he did not want to exploit that weak moment of mine. I was surprised by his rejection at the time. In retrospect, I am grateful for it.
He came with his sister to visit me at university just days before I graduated; his sister was a beautiful flight attendant at some airline, so the two of them were using a free flight. We visited Emily Dickens’ home, and took a sunny photo together in the lovely gardens.
On Monday I woke up in the morning and decided to divorce my husband. I didn’t plan on telling him for another week, because we were going on a trip to Arizona to see his family – but he noticed that I was looking at him strangely from the corner of my eyes, and in the kitchen he picked me up in his arms and pressed me, and asked me what was going on, and I told him.
We had been fighting about having kids and about not having them. And he said to me, ‘well maybe this is all
We had been fighting about having kids and about not having them. And he said to me, ‘well maybe this is all your fault after all, that we can’t have them’, and I said, ‘I don’t think so honey, otherwise why would the doctor say that I might as well get a donor.’ And he said, ‘I bet I could get any girl pregnant right now except for you,’ and I paused and said, ‘ok, maybe you could’, because I didn’t know what else to say, and I didn’t want to make him feel bad.
I joked and told him that we have rich, white people problems. And he said that if we were Indian or Chinese or Black we would probably pop them right out, and we laughed, and we both thought it was probably true. When I dragged him to the adoption seminar in a small room right above the supermarket, he had murmured under his breath ‘Goddamit, can’t we go next month?’ and then I realized there was no point, there was simply no point anymore. He was asking questions and I was boiling inside, thinking about all these rich white
He was asking questions and I was boiling inside, thinking about all these rich white people around me in the room, and about spending $50,000 to go to one of those Mexican countries and pay their government to give me a kid.
For my session with the therapist, I had prepared a 5-page document with my considerations of what would make me happy in a relationship, with their relative weights. And I had calculated the positive and the negative considerations, and the result was negative 30%, and therefore this relationship for me, as of right now, was a bad investment.
My husband told me that he feels like I’m just cutting my losses; I told him that he was not wrong about that. The night that I broke the news, I had gone to the Starbucks to get out of the house and get some air, and picked up a skinny late and called my mother on my blackberry, and told her that my husband was being very upset because I told him I was leaving. Alarmed, she told me not to go back to the house, and for a moment I was afraid, not because my husband was
Alarmed, she told me not to go back to the house, and for a moment I was afraid, not because my husband was a violent person – in fact, I had proved to be much more violent than him – but because this was an unprecedented moment, and he was very upset. I insisted that I would be ok going back to the house, and she told me to call her when I got back and to also call her in the morning, so that she would know I was not dead.
When I returned, my husband told me, ‘my
When I returned, my husband told me, ‘my life is fucking over’. He told me that he was going back to pervert status, and what was he going to do living in this suburban home surrounded by families with children? He said he was going back to his crappy single income, and my eyes just went wide at that moment, because here was the proof that I’ve been taken for a ride.
When we went to Arizona, I gave his sister her grandmother’s engagement ring – the one my husband had given me for our engagement – because,
When we went to Arizona, I gave his sister her grandmother’s engagement ring – the one my husband had given me for our engagement – because, I told her, her new daughter should have it. I told her that all this- the house, the kid, the car – was something I wanted too, but couldn’t get from her brother. And she was very reasonable about it to my face.
We were in Sedona for 2 days to get a break from his family in Phoenix – and we visited Jerome, where I bought a fun ring and secretly replaced my
we visited Jerome, where I bought a fun ring and secretly replaced my wedding band with it. When we got to Sedona, I went to the information booth and told the guy that I want to know where the ‘Oh Shit’ hike was, the toughest hike with the most beautiful vistas, and that’s where I wanted to go. And when we got to the top, the view of the valley below was so beautiful I almost decided to jump from the edge of the cliff and just end it right there. But I was a coward.
Some old guy from New York asked us if we wanted to have our picture taken. We looked at each other. Both him and I knew that if that photo would have been taken, it would have been the last photo of us together on our last trip, and it would be remembered as such. We didn’t take it.
That night we went to a few shitty stores on the way back to our hotel, and in one of them I saw a smooth long stone souvenir for about $30, and I all of a sudden wanted
That night we went to a few shitty stores on the way back to our hotel, and in one of them I saw a smooth long stone souvenir for about $30, and I all of a sudden wanted to buy it so that I could put it inside my vagina when I got back to the hotel. That night we fucked three times. My husband just took off my clothes a few minutes after we got in, and that was it. I had never had such strong orgasms in my life. The first time, we were doing it doggy-style
That night we fucked three times. My husband just took off my clothes a few minutes after we got in, and there we were. I had never had such strong orgasms in my life. We were doing it doggy-style. We then ordered a huge pizza and watched a movie, and fell asleep. I didn’t even bother to get off the bed for the rest of that night. I was thinking about fucking, then eating, then shitting, then about the movie that we watched, and then about fucking again. My divorce night ended up better than my wedding night.
I’m moving out of our house in three weeks and have so far packed four boxes. The first one has my books in it, with several hard-covers at the very top, to make it easier to have a firm seal on the box. The second box has photo albums – all mine – with the exception of our wedding album. I made three, and left the other two for my husband. I kept the master album with all the photos inside. The third box had office supplies, and these were the most contentious - my husband woke up from his clumsy
The third box had office supplies, and these were the most contentious - my husband woke up from his clumsy Tuesday mid-afternoon sleep and inquired specifically what I had put in there. He was apologetic and at the same time wanted to know why I would take scotch tape away from our house. I replied that we had two scotch tapes and that I took one and left him one. I didn’t tell him that I took the fuller scotch tape and left him the emptier one. I suppose he’ll have to buy one earlier than I would.
The fourth box contains all the documentation, testimonies and memoirs about the breakdown of my family during the Holocaust. I asked my husband why he would want to keep this box with him, and he said that he would particularly like that one, and I said, ‘oh really?’ There is an old tape reel in there, recently sent by my great uncle in Los Angeles to my mother in Boston, which I took from her and have yet to bring to a store to convert to a digital file. There is also the translation of my great-grandfather’s memoir,
There is also the translation of my great-grandfather’s memoir, a bad translation from Hungarian to English, which a young girl did for my uncle in Budapest back in 2000, for half the price of what it would have been to get a professional translator. If I poked him about it, my uncle would say, ‘the point is to know the story, not to make literature.’
One of my husband’s friends called, asking if we were coming over for the Super Bowl. Of course, my husband said I would be out of town for that day, but that
Of course, my husband said I would be out of town for that day, but that he would show up. The friend’s daughter, Emma, is finally going to daycare, and they are having trouble keeping her happy there. Husband later asked me if he should tell his friend on Sunday when he comes over, and I said, ‘if you tell him you better tell the other friend as well, so that rumors don’t start spreading around.’
At least I’m not in my late thirties but in my early 30s, and maybe, just maybe, there is a chance
At least I’m not in my late thirties but in my early 30s, and maybe, just maybe, there is a chance for me to have a baby some day. Or maybe not. I’ve actually strangely stopped caring for now – someone said to me, ‘if you want to make God laugh, you tell him your plans’. As soon as I decided I was leaving, everything changed – the resentment and anger lifted from me like mold on the corner of a room crouching away from a single brilliant, crisp, direct ray of sun. I am so over this.
My husband walks around the house as if nothing is going on, just happy to have me for these remaining days. Does he realize the shit storm coming into his life? The nights alone in the bed? The days in a quiet house, with no job (even a shitty one) to keep him occupied? He told me the other day, after he attended a family wedding I had declined, that he felt there so alone, like his emotional anchor was gone, like he had no more comfort zone. He actually used the words ‘emotional anchor’, which took me aback.
He said this to me as we were lying in bed, hugging each other. The mediator had said that a couple can live separate and apart under the same home, and strangely enough, we are separate and apart and enjoying a last honeymoon. Now that the decision has been made, and there is no future, we carry on as best friends and lovers.
How many more boxes? It’s hard to tell. I still have to bring upstairs all the grad school boxes, and the financial exam materials, which I want to hang on to, just in case.
Also, my mother’s dishes need to be packed, and the carpet rolled, and the road bike and the Passover plate and a few silver dishes. And the TV I had bought from my brother – actually, it was the both of us who bought it, but who are we kidding, it was my money anyway. I’m not taking a lot – after all, I’m going back to my parents’ house, tail between my legs. I told my mom on a quiet moment between us, ‘It’s hard to believe I’m coming back home,’ and her eyes teared up
I told my mom on a quiet moment between us, ‘It’s hard to believe I’m coming back home,’ and her eyes filled up with tears and she said, ‘me neither,’ and then she paused and said, ‘I wish I could do the same.’
It will be strange coming back home. All my friends are now married, most with kids, and I don’t have that much to come home to. But I do have a warm nest of love in my parents and my brother and my sister, who I’m sure will be an ‘emotional anchor’.
They will for sure take me out and do stuff with me, and I will slowly get back on my feet, and go to personal training and invest in personal meal delivery and look amazing and flirt and meet guys and do really well. I would need to buy a stapler, because my husband will keep our only working one. Shall I go for a red? I had adream last night that I was on vacation, and it was a singles vacation. Divorce is a failure, no matter how you put it. What was there that I didn’t see?
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