an argument against peace in the middle east
May 24, 2010
whatthepork
Tags: diaspora, from the bi one, israel, peace in the middle east, sabra, screaming
There is something about growing up in a war zone – particularly Israel – that makes one LIVE ONE’S LIFE IN ALL CAPS GET AWAY FROM THAT UNATTENDED SUITCASE!!!!!!!!!!!!!FIRE!!!!!!!!!!! I noticed when I was briefly living there in the mid-’90s that Sabras generally seemed rather…comfortable with being on edge all the time. Particularly the dudes. Several of my friends who recently returned from traveling the motherland have remarked on same. It seemed to me a terrible way to live, rough on the adrenals; I swore I’d never make aliyah and couldn’t understand why anyone would.
A recent date – first generation American, raised by Israelis – pulled some business I did not appreciate, and I let him have it – probably more forcefully than I would have normally, except he’d already pulled it on a prior hookup, and once attempted to get rubbed on without a condom, twice shy and all that. Well, twice not shy: Like I said, forceful. Loud. GETTING MY POINT ACROSS IN ALL CAPS, WHY WOULD YOU TRY TO DO THAT AGAIN WHEN I TOLD YOU I DIDN’T WANT YOU TO DO THAT LAST TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PS, nothing fuels the flames faster than someone soothingly telling me to “relax.” I GUARANTEE YOU TELLING ME TO “RELAX” IS NOT GOING TO MAKE ME RELAX LO B’SEDER UNATTENDED SUITCASE!!!!!!!!!!!FIRE!!!!!!!!!!
Once he started responding to all my “WHY!!!!!”s – which did in fact make me relax – he admitted that his usual boudoir MO involved a grab-and-go, get-it-while-you-can technique. That, I observed, is hallmark of a man who usually sleeps with girls uncomfortable discussing their sexual needs. He nodded. He told me about girls who never said yes until they said no, or who never said no but never said yes either, or who sometimes said no meaning yes and yes meaning no. I told him that I am comfortable talking about sex whether it’s yes or no – I had been saying yes and no all along, right? Right, he confirmed – and I told him: I will never make you wonder. And he promised me: I will never try that again. We talked for a long time after that about men and women and sex and love and boats and cats, my legs tucked next to his, his palm warm against my ankle.
Later that evening I made reference to our argument. Completely serious, he asked, “What argument?”
“You know. When I was screaming up in your face.”
“You were screaming?”
Was he joking?
…He wasn’t.
And in that moment I realized: The all-caps Sabra experience provides first-rate training for encounters with super angry women. To someone else, I might have been dismissed as a raging, hot-faced poisonous she-devil of a c-word; to him, I merely had something to say.
I had to respect that. I slipped him a little diasporic tongue in celebration of conflict.
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