So I’m looking over my choices…a very pretty African guy…too pretty in fact.  Pretty boys think all they need to do is show up, so that was going to be too much work.  Then there was too-Israeli…not ever going there again EVER.  Then my eyes settled on that familiar Black Sea something in the eyes, and some good hands dangling over a set of good legs.  That’ll do.

About a month later, it became clear that he did feel like he was doing me a favor.  His boyfriends were also butt-hurt that I didn’t pick them.  They can all go shag each other for all I care now.  If I want to do girls, I prefer they have vaginas.

So after I removed the reserved sign, I pretty much started hunting.  It was all good until one fateful night, not even far enough into the experiment for anyone to believe that I am not a “nice girl”, I met someone as weird as me.  Our eyes met, and we just knew something was going to happen.  We were both kind of drunk, but since we’re both kind of crazy already, it didn’t matter much.  I’m pretty sure that we’d have behaved pretty much the same stone cold sober.  What made the encounter even more interesting is that the pub owner, heretofore known as Satan’s late night playlist was strikingly similar to my age appropriate dude shagging playlist at home.

I won’t get too deep into the details, but suffice to say, I find myself catching feelings.  This is somewhat inconvenient as he has not yet defined the relationship.

I’m not really sure what I should be doing, but for the moment I feel I should not be seeking replacements.  We’ll see what happens.  It looks somewhat hopeful since we’re both at somewhat similar phases of life.  He’s self employed, and so am I, so he understands the idea of projects and being busy and self motivation etc.  He’s also divorced with a kid, and I’m platonically married with a kid, so neither of us is trying to make new babies.

Don’t get me wrong.  I’d have 10 of his little ‘sperglings if it was a perfect world.  Our kids would be as awesome as Moon, and we’d pass the days composing, inventing, finding new ways to set things on fire, and reading technical manuals as bedtime stories.  Alas, it is not a perfect world, and I am not 20 years old.

Still, I find myself quite taken with this one.  I hope he wants to keep me around.

when i told you that you’re beautiful
and you told me i’m hot
we were equally disbelieving
and told each other that we’re not
but making love with you was like
making love with myself
so much it healed something in both of us
making us love ourselves

we both have a charisma
and unique magnetic eyes
we each in our way charm the world
and light up many skies
but what you gave for your idea
of greatness which is fame
was that you had to act as if you
forgot from where you came

and so i had to step into
the shadows of your past
i tried not to take it personally
that my concerns were last
and when i gave it thought
after rejection lost its sting
i figured that it’s for the best
it’s not as if i’d wear your ring

but every time you come back home
and we start up again
when it becomes so natural
like a conversation between friends
to this very day
when your hands are touching me
and i’m gently pushing you away
no leaves my vocabulary

but not this time
to much has broken to cross that line
so though i love you like you’re me
i don’t want to dim your shine
so go on
and be the eastern star
remember that you’re beautiful
wherever you are

Again, much, much credit for my wellness has to go to the guys at the Chateau.  Aside of helping me to rediscover and improve my feminine side, they’ve made my masculine side a better “man” in crucial ways too.  In a strange sense, I think my inner “man” helps to heal my inner woman.  He certainly came in handy this past weekend.

For the first time in my life, I didn’t have to be basically forced to be vulnerable.  I admitted to the actual guy I wanted, to being horny, a bit desperate, and quite easy, though focussed on a particular target.  Remarkably (to me anyway) this did not result in immediate rejection or mistreatment as the night wore on.  My honesty was actually appreciated.

I have no idea what the results will be sexually or emotionally in the cold and sober light of day, but I’m optimistic.  I’m going to clean my room, shave every day just in case, and definitely not sit in my room waiting for the Dick Fairy to bless me or something.

In summary, I’ve gone from Rehab to Return of the Mack in one weekend.

…as soon as I recover from three nights in a row of drinking anyway.  I am so not looking forward to tomorrow’s workout.

I also almost picked up another taxi driver, but that’s not going to go anywhere.  It was flattering though.  So my ego is repaired even though the betrayal still has me feeling like I swam in sewage for three months.

My heart is still on the floor though.  In all my life, nobody ever said all those things to me who didn’t mean it.  A few have loved me and tried to pretend they didn’t, and in hindsight, some may have pretended to love me but not said it because they knew they were just pretending…but nobody ever went beyond the “I love you” to the ways, reasons, and professions of undying love, who wasn’t serious.  This is all new stuff for me, and I have to admit to being a bit rattled by it.

Nobody in my life has ever held me close and whispered in my ear when I was crying, “You are safe with me,” and not been telling the truth.  I am not so pretty or so rich or so anything that anybody has ever felt the need to lie to me so badly.

I honestly don’t know what to do with this.  I don’t know what to do with the memories.  I don’t know really how to feel except angry and frightened.  I don’t know what to feel about him except hate because I can’t think of any reason he would do this to me except hate.

In time I suppose I will get past this as I’m pretty sure nothing like this will ever happen to me again.  Unless some halo has appeared over my head that makes me look like I’m 20 and that guys have to profess undying love to get into my pants because my vagina squirts ambrosia of the Gods or something, it is very unlikely someone would go this far just to crush me again.

It’s just…that this could ever happen to me once has me wondering if I’ve stepped into the Twilight Zone.  It’s just too weird.  It’s a nightmare.

In this video, I read the letters Papa II wrote me with his own hands, burn them, and then eat some of the ashes to own my half of the stupidity of it all.

As you hear the words, remember that I am not a young, hot chick a guy would need to lie to with such mushy words of lerve.

I believe that even though the Talmud isn’t quite as damning of non Jews as it’s often interpreted, primitive rabbis themselves do interpret it in the worst way.  They do not account for the between the lines sanctity of human life and extend customs around slavery and for self preservation at the time to all non Jews.  They essentially are or became the monsters anti semites paint them to be, and spread this monstrosity so deep into the culture here that the message that it is okay to lie to and deceive us, and is even a sort of “mitzvah” to harm us.

So a non Jewish woman is no safer in the hands of the average Jew as a non Arab woman in the hands of the average Arab or Druze here.  Each has their own infidel class that includes anyone who isn’t in their ethnic/religious category.

The difference between them is that Jews are less aware of how they’ve been programmed, so they don’t know that anything is wrong that they need to fight.  They will claim that they are not racists because “Jewish” is technically a religious designation, but they treat it like a race.  So what if technically, they are malignant xenophobes.  It’s a distinction without a difference.

I am more convinced than ever that if a non Jewish/Arab/Druze woman is thinking of living here, she should prepare to either suspend her romantic life, only date guys who were raised and educated outside Israel (read tourists and foreign workers), or simply not believe that a man loves her unless or until he invests something real in the relationship.

I have met Israeli men who don’t have the scratch on their brain and do right by their non Jewish girlfriends and wives, but just a handfull.  So they do exist.  I’m not saying it’s hopeless.

What I’m saying is “don’t bank on the exceptions”.

He doesn’t see how the woman is manipulating him by saying that he “chooses relationships that are doomed to fail”.  Of course, she is referring to his relationship with me, which she must think is unhealthy because I am not Jewish.

She has also gone so far as to say that she loves him and feels they have a special bond.  A legitimately mentally challenged person could see where this was going, and would probably see their way to telling their caretaker that their therapist was creepy…but oh well.  She’s female, so it just cannot be that she is abusing her position in order to seduce vulnerable soldiers under stress.  Oh my goodness no.

If he’s dumb enough to fall for it, then I’m darwinian enough to let him.

You may ask why I’m being so free with the details in this one.  Well, it is a part of my new “no mercy” policy.  No Israeli man has ever had mercy on me or cared enough about my feelings to hold back a whit when trampling them, so I have no more mercy for them.  Even Shai, in his way, has failed in this.  When we went platonic, he simply could not understand why I would be upset by never being able to have sex with the man I loved the most ever again.  Perhaps unconsciously, he said things to make me feel bad for wanting sex.

Especially after some truth time at the Chateau I no longer believe men are served well at all by women, especially non feminist women being silent about our feelings…about what it is to be a woman who is a woman living under the feminreich.  Women are not served well by this either.

When we encounter a man who has been broken to the point that he enjoys being victimized, and would dump a woman who loved him and who supposedly he loved in favor of a harpy who is the very definition of a glaring red light, something is dreadfully wrong with this culture.

Now, on the one hand, I have to deal with the sheep cooties.  My wishful thinking or perhaps pure desperation for any kind of affection, blinded me to the signs.  He is actually very self pitying, and thrown off course by things that wouldn’t be an excuse to someone from another culture.  In every way except maybe certain perversions that are different from the norm, he is a typical Israeli “fob”.  That’s basically an ars just of the Eastern European variety.

I feel kinda stupid and yet sort of fascinated by my own capacity for self deceit.  This though, is exactly why I shouldn’t go without sex for too long.

Well, lesson learned.  Maybe I’ll find another nice Scottish guy, bonus if he’s intact, and not screw it up this time.

Anyway, the ceremonial burning of the lies (love letters from him) will take place tomorrow at sundown.  At that point, I will hopefully begin to even forget his name, but not the lesson.