Russian Roulette Part II

After we were both satisfied, the energy relaxed and we went outside for a smoke. She took out her phone, snapped a selfie of us, and before I could say a word, sent it to Yitzi.

I still can’t explain my next impulse. I’ve gone over it countless times because it changed my life forever. Was I giddy to share news with my best friend? Was it a tendency to overshare? One thing is certain. It revealed how clueless Yitzi and I were about what happens between friends when sex is involved.

I put my phone down and ran upstairs to see if Yitzi was up. He was arranging chairs for the next morning's Shabbos service. I told him Julia texted me and we were probably going out next week.

I was treading delicately. Implicit in my account was that I transgressed Shabbos. It was one thing for Yitzi to know, it was another to discuss it with him. Like he was sanctioning it or worse, complicit. 

I remember as a child being told not to watch a fellow Jew drive on Shabbos. “Nebach, sadly, they drive, but don’t watch.” Would you voyeuristically watch someone humiliate or hurt themselves? If you can’t help them, turn away. 

Yitzi didn’t turn away but he remained silent. Foolishly, I thought we were bonding on a deeper level. I was sharing my new life with him. After all, I respected his life, maybe this was a bridge to learn about mine.  

“You’re okay with this, right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“She’s part of your community. I want to make sure you’re comfortable with it. By tomorrow morning I’ll have my mind set and won’t be able to go back on it.” I knew this was the only window in which I’d be willing to give up my plans if Yitzi asked me to.

“You’re adults, I’m not getting in the way.”

“But it won’t just be a date… I’ll probably end up at her place… The texts were pretty explicit.”

“It’s fine, I really don’t care.”

On Saturday night, Yitzi and I went for our traditional post-Shabbos coffee and cigarette. It was a much-needed refresher after twenty-four hours of alcohol, heavy multi-course meals, and exhausting prayers, speeches, and conversations with community members. 

We pulled up to Starbucks and placed our favorite order: Christmas blend, tall, black. We grabbed our coffee, walked into the cold December night, and lit up a Parliament. The earthy aroma filled the air, milky white smoke rising up to the sky. 

“You know, I thought it over and I’m not comfortable with you and Julia going out. Can you cancel?”

“Are you kidding? This is exactly why I brought up it last night. I told you it would be too late by this morning.”

“I didn’t understand what you meant, I don’t feel comfortable with it.”

Why did he get a say in this? This is my life and no one tells me who I can date. 

“I’m sorry Yitzi, this isn’t up to you. We are adults and we are going out.”

“Please don’t.”

“If I cancel just cause you asked, I’ll resent you for it but if I feel differently, I’ll call it off.” 

“At least tell me before you go out.”

I left for my already scheduled New Year’s plans. Julia and I continued texting. We confirmed plans for Monday as discussed. I didn’t say a word to Yitzi. 

On Monday night, she suggested we get dinner at an Israeli restaurant. After a decadent, albeit messy falafel, we went over to her place. We steadied ourselves on a stool at the entrance of her house and made out. Her big, sensual lips devouring mine, our tongues dancing in each other's mouths. I slipped off her blouse, wrapping my hands around her full breasts. pressing on her nipples, feeling them harden. She shimmied out of her tight pants, revealing a thong barely covering her ample thighs. I reached between her legs, her labia, thick and wet. 

Then, I felt a sting on my neck. Was she biting me? I was about to yell out, when I remembered this was a thing people do. I could see myself getting into it but maybe with a gentler start? I didn’t say a thing, not wanting to seem inexperienced.  

We went to her bed, helping each other disrobe as we went. She wanted to suck on my very aroused dick. I was about to cum so I reversed places after a few seconds and buried my face between her legs, tasting her sweetness. 

After we were both satisfied, the energy relaxed and we went outside for a smoke. She took out her phone, snapped a selfie of us, and before I could say a word, sent it to Yitzi.

The next day, Yitzi texted me that he was having a hard time sleeping. “Can we talk?”

We met in the parking lot of a kosher pizza spot, sipping on ice-cold Diet Cokes. 

“I’m worried about you.” 

“You’re worried?”

“You’re on a dangerous path. You could end up with abortions, suicide, drugs, tattoos, who knows what else.”

“Yitzi, you know me more than anyone in the world. You know how dysfunctional my life and my marriage were. You know how much I struggled. I'm happy now. I'm a better and healthier version of myself. No one knows this more than you.”

“You went out with someone and I can’t even say what you guys did.”

“You can’t say? You set it up! Did you think we would go to a nice hotel lobby like an ordinary Hassidic couple?”

“I set this up?”

“Ya!”

“I don’t even remember what happened. I was drunk and it’s all a haze.”

“You don’t remember? You told her parents we look good together.”

“I don’t remember.”

“How fucking convenient.”

Yitzi retreated into that world of his that no one can reach. I was livid. How could he deny this?

At that moment I knew. This was the dead-end of a life I had lived for too long. My very best friend preferred I remain unhappy than take risks in a scary and dangerous world, even if I was happier and healthier in that dangerous world. And I, in the pursuit of happiness, chose my unending appetite over my best friend's wishes. 

I said goodbye to Yitzi a little more alone but a lot more sure of who I am. 

I got in my car, shaken but strangely at peace. This was a new sensation. Disappointing people. I reflected on my earlier life. How I couldn’t tolerate disappointing anyone. All I wanted was for people to think I was the kindest, sweetest person they knew. My identity was bound up in this narrative. It would take less than a heartbeat to forgo my wishes to fortify another’s.

Little by little, I stopped knowing what I wanted. Or that I was giving anything up. This was how I existed in the world. I had grown so used to pleasing people that it consumed how I operated in the world at all times. 

Now that I was no longer attached to any identity or narrative about myself, I was disappointing people around me, especially those closest to me. It was like the structures around which I had built life-long relationships were crumbling and from the rubble, seedlings of my actual self sprouted forth.

It was painful to discover the truth. Yes, I am a kind person who derives joy from making people happy. But right beneath that sweet surface is a stubborn, petulant teenager who cannot tolerate control. If the right buttons are pushed, he will blow everything up to release the stranglehold. Even if in the process he looses the precious gifts life has to offer are lost; Love, friendship, companionship. 

So is a one-night stand ever worth the loss of a lifelong friendship? A thousand times no. Is finding the entirety of who I am through that loss worth it? Ten thousand times yes.