So Chris’ ultimatum: Either he comes here this weekend or we never speak again. But the American guy I had a date with last week offered up this coming Friday or Saturday for our second date. Sophia is having a party on Saturday, so I agreed to a date on Friday. Weekend full now, so no room for Chris. It’s over. I persevered. Or something.
Actually I tried to talk to Chris a bit on Sunday. I was hungover and about to head out to the store, but I asked him for five minutes. He said, “NO,” and that he didn’t want to talk to me because he was busy, and I couldn’t believe he wouldn’t give me five minutes. He said we could talk in a few days. I said that if he couldn’t give me five minutes, there was no sense in his coming for the weekend. Bitchy? Yes, especially because I knew at that point that I didn’t want him to come anyway. But he certainly got me back for it with the end of our conversation:
[16:29:20] Chris: why can't you accept that i simply don't want to talk NOW???
[16:32:17] Kate: i have
[16:32:25] Kate: it's ok
[16:32:26] Chris: i said NOW
[16:32:32] Chris: i just don't want to talk NOW
[16:32:38] Kate: it's ok
[16:32:40] Chris: why is that so hard to understand?
[16:32:43] Kate: i understand
[16:32:52] Chris: and why do you always have to escalate?
[16:33:15] Chris: can't you simply shut the fuck up and keep your drama to yourself?
I said nothing after that. He sent me two apologetic text messages later but I didn’t answer either. He’s blocked on Skype again, and it’s only a few days until the weekend and then, if he sticks to his ultimatum, he won’t talk to me again.
That Czech guy that I had the unimpressive date with a while back texted me, in Czech: “You are a pretty girl, I want you.” Today, he sent me a long message on Facebook, in Czech, about how he will only communicate with me in Czech from now on because, isn’t it sad that I’ve been here so long and I don’t speak Czech? He’s offended by it.
It seems to me like he’s just trying to make up for the fact that his English is horrible, and there’s nothing wrong with that but I’m not going to date him. I took him off my friends list. I don’t have time for that shit.
Other things: I spent most of the weekend with friends—out to dinner with Sophia, Lindsey, Jan and a few new folks on Friday, and I met Caroline and Pavlina before and after that at the unfermented wine festival. I was again at the unfermented wine festival on Saturday. One of my friends wouldn’t let me put up photos of her on Facebook because she was so embarrassingly drunk, but so was everyone (except me). Seriously, at least three of them fell over drunk. Another wandered off and couldn’t be contacted or found. One left in tears after a big fight with her boyfriend.
…Basically, a great night!
Photos from before things turned sour are here.
I have a crush on Kev. He’s married, though, so it will never amount to anything. This is both good and bad, actually, because it will never amount to anything. On the one hand, having feelings for someone who doesn’t return them sucks. On the other, I don’t need a relationship right now, so this is better than pursuing an easy target.
I talked to him again last night for what will be the last time until he returns from a 3.5 week trip in the US. Again, good and bad. He cheers me up so I will miss him, but maybe his absence will help me to get rid of the crush.
Anyway, I was up until nearly 3 am last night and I woke up again around 6 with abdominal pain similar to taking a bullet. I assume, anyway. I knew that it would eventually go away so I just rolled myself into the most comfortable position and waited it out, but it did make me wonder what I would do if I were ever really sick and how would I know?
That’s a scary thing about living alone. When I was 11, I had to write my own obituary for class. Most everyone wrote about having grandchildren and dying of old age. In mine, I was an unmarried, childless spinster who died alone at home when she choked on a piece of food. Age 35.
My teacher thought it was sad; I thought it reflected my desire to never get old and never turn into my parents. I no longer think that turning into my parents is such a ghastly fate. Dying because I am alone and can’t fend for myself in even the most minor medical emergency sounds just a bit more tragic.
I’ve been talking quite a bit lately with the Scotsman, who may soon get to reclaim his name here, because Austrian Chris is a twat. The Scotsman wants us to get back together and has made this very clear. I am, however, not ready to date. Last night, I was thinking about this and how I’ve been approached by a few men and I keep brushing off their advances because the thought of building a new relationship (only to have it crumble the way that mine and Austrian Chris Twat’s or ACT’s did) exhausts me. With the exception of Kev, with whom a friendship already existed and only a friendship is a possibility, the only men with whom I have any interest in communicating are those who I only see (want?) as friends.
This is a problem, though, because the Scotsman is extremely interested in me, and it sort of made me aware of the kind of dumbfuckery that Chris promoted and that many men believe, which is that you can never be friends with a woman you’re interested in. There is, possibly, a certain amount of truth in it. While I’m talking to the Scotsman because he is safe and warm and someone I really like, he sees all the time he’s putting in with me as a sort of insurance: he talks me through my breakup and then, when I’m read to date again, he’s obviously the first choice. Dumbfuck misogynists say that I’ll pick another jerk, though, and that the Scotsman is wasting his time (actually, a reversal of this could be seen in my relationship with David—I invested time and feelings and gave him what, I thought, he was looking for, but I was not a proper choice for a girlfriend).
I refuse to prove this theory true, though. Thus, I told the Scotsman last night that I am not ready for a relationship because I feel damaged by the last one, and I told him that it isn’t fair of me to ask him for anything because I know what he hopes to gain from it. He told me that he can’t help how much he wants me and how he loves the way I make him feel. Basically, he got out of it what he wanted to hear.
Moving on...
I’ve been able to take some time for myself and am working on reading Henry Miller's Tropic of Capricorn. I can’t decide yet if I like it or not but Miller's style and language are like nothing I’ve read in a very long time, so it’s wonderful and inspiring and definitely needed.
And yet he said what I expected. He said that I don’t want a man like him and that I should be with someone who wants to get married and have children. But he made it sound as though he were acting nobly and giving me my freedom, implying (if not stating outright) that he had to dump me because I wouldn’t leave him on my own. He said that he wanted us to be friends, and I asked what that would entail. He said we could chat on Skype sometimes.
Actually, perhaps it wasn’t even that he was condescending but that he sounded so casual about it. Like he was okay with it, and it hurt me to think that he wasn’t hurting. I told him that I wasn’t sure we could be friends and called him a bunch of names, which I hadn’t been counting on at all, and he laughed. And chomped his gum.
He also got preachy towards the end, telling me that I’ll always have a place in his heart and asking if I’d be ok. And then he said that no matter how bad it got, I should always remember that there’s a tomorrow. Never mind those testicles. I could’ve kicked him in the face.
Writing this now and trying to put myself back in that situation feels too much like reliving it and I can feel my pulse beating faster, so that’s about all I can say about it right now.
I ended the conversation abruptly because I had plans to meet David (more on that in a minute). Some time between ending that conversation at about 8:45 PM and this morning at 9:30, I decided that he reminded me of Kosta: some idiot who thinks he’s smart and talks down to me. I wanted to tell him that he can’t portray our breakup as some selfless act on his part—his initial email revealed that it isn’t. And I wanted to tell him that if he wants to be my friend, he’ll have to forgo the attitude. While I occasionally enjoyed his cocky sense of humor, what I loved about him was when he was genuine and sensitive. When he showed me his soft side. And if we’re going to be friends, he is going to have to show me some of that, because I don’t need another cocky male friend. He can’t talk down to me. Something like that, anyway.
So I did one of those stupid things that I knew I shouldn’t do and I texted him this morning, saying that I wanted to tell him something before we could be friends. He wrote back to ask when we could talk. I said we could talk whenever he’s online and not busy playing World of Warcraft and then I also added that it was nothing bad like I was pregnant or had an STD, that I didn’t want to manipulate him into talking to me.
His response was, “If you would have acted like this when we were together we would still be.”
And that was enough to give me a high feeling. Weird, I realize, because it was basically an exchange of his saying we broke up because I’m a wonderful woman who deserves more for his saying that I’m a crabby, manipulative bitch. But it showed me that his actions weren’t selfless. That he’s still a dick who thinks I need to learn to behave.
Also, to go back to that horrible conversation from last night, he tried to get me to share with him first but I wouldn’t, saying that we had waited days for his enlightenment. I think he expected me to beg him to take me back. I think he thought I’d offer up everything to stay together. It doesn’t mean that he would’ve accepted, but when I agreed that the breakup was right, he said something like, “So even if I would’ve said we should be together, you’d want to break up?” And he said something about miscalculating.
Oh, who knows? The point is that I felt better, and I don’t even feel the need to talk to him now. I will at some point, of course, but that text message showed me what I really wanted to know.
And now David. I saw him last night and had a really nice time. He was very talkative, and I soaked up that feeling of being around him for what is possibly the last time. He said that we can meet again before he leaves, but I don’t know if that’s true or if he was just avoiding an awkward goodbye. I wouldn’t even blame him for the latter. I hate goodbyes.
His situation is that he has a guaranteed job in Brussels and will leave on Monday or Tuesday to go there and start working. However, he also asked them for holiday time in September and he’s thinking of giving up the holiday and delaying his start in Brussels so that he can stay here a bit longer. One advantage of that is because he still doesn’t know what will happen with the job in Dubai. He got a call from a friend yesterday while we were together, telling him that the restaurant/hotel/resort in Dubai was checking his references, so that’s good. If he gets the offer in Dubai, he’ll go there. If he starts in Brussels and gets the offer in Dubai, he’ll still go to Dubai. Dubai is number one.
So he’s planning to leave most of his stuff here if he does head to Brussels because there’s still the chance he won’t move there. He should know in a couple of weeks.
But he didn’t ask me to go with him. He just said that he’s sad to leave Prague but that he’ll try to make it back every six months or so to touch base. And I’ve made it clear that I would visit him wherever he goes. We talked a while about my relationship with Chris, but that may have been out of politeness.
Who knows?
What is pretty clear at this point, though, is that I am single. For many months, I have received advice from everyone about how I should get rid of Chris and David and have some alone time. Well, I am certainly alone.
At 5:30 this afternoon, my boss tapped me on the shoulder and handed me the phone (he was on another line so he didn't say anything). I was expecting one of my directors but instead I was met with that thick Austrian accent.
Chris called my boss, people. I am so embarrassed.
He also contacted Leon and Caroline. Leon told him that he hadn't talked to me, and I don't think Caroline responded. What's kind of funny is that Chris actually thought they'd report back faithfully to him. Please. Leon and Caroline are loyal to me, as they've been in my life for 8-9 years. Leon's never met Chris, and Caroline's only been around him a handful of times. He asks them for something pertaining to me? They're going to ask me what to do about it.
Anyway, once Chris had me on the phone, he said that he was so worried that something happened to me and that he couldn't sleep last night. I told him that I am no longer his business and asked when he will change his status on Facebook. Now I wish I could remember how he answered that, because I thought he said "maybe we won't have to" but he probably said "we'll talk about it," which means nothing. He wants to talk to me tonight on Skype after he gets in from going out with a friend for a "man talk." Which could be anything but is none of my business.
I am having a movie night with Caroline and another girl, but I should be home by his suggested Skype time.
I just really don't see the point in talking to him, though. It will only be painful. Much as seeing David again would be painful. And pointless. There is nothing to be gained from talking to these men again--they have made it clear that they don't want me and also that they're no good for me.
He wants the talk he tried to have with me last night. The "let's not end this angry at each other" talk. That was something he said on Skype. I will be angry if I want to be.
I went to the post office today to pick up my modem. This is the modem that I only knew was at the post office because I went to Telefonica O2, my fantastic internet provider, and they told me it had been delivered and was waiting for me there. But they had delivered it to the wrong address and by today, it was no longer being held at the post office. It was sent back to O2.
So I called O2 and left a message. They phoned back and apologized and said they would send me a new modem to the correct address. Unfortunately, they would need to cancel my appointment on Friday because they had scheduled the appointment at the wrong address as well and rather than have the guy come to my new apartment, it has to be canceled and rescheduled.
No, it doesn’t make sense to me either. Anyway, they said they’d get back to me.
Yeah, right.
So, I think I will wait until Monday and go see them in person, provided they haven’t contacted me before then but I think we all know that they won’t have. So, by Monday, I should have my new modem or, at least, the package slip from the post office, and I can set something up, hopefully some time next week or, hell, even on Friday but we all know that’s not going to happen.
I contacted the cable internet provider again. I’m not sure if I’ve written about them before but I’m keeping my fingers crossed that they can help me. They’re not as English-friendly as O2, though, so getting a connection from them may be just as difficult as O2. I’m now on Day 16 with no internet. Bravo.
To put it briefly so that I don't dangle information in front of you and not share it, it was something like, "Merry Christmas. I'm really busy, but let's get together in the New Year." Ok, that's not the part that upset me--he's been pretty persistent about us getting together even though he knows that I'm dating Chris.
No, what pissed me off was that I then looked at my Facebook feed and saw that he had posted a bunch of photos from a party he threw at his place. And was I invited to said party? Of course not. To be fair, when I thought that we might actually have a relationship together, I didn't put much effort into mingling him into my group of friends. But I also don't ever host parties or events. I don't like the responsibility of organizing events or the blame when they don't go well. So I stay out of that position.
But David is a sommelier, so of course he likes to entertain.
So what annoys me here is that it's a reminder of how he values me, which is to say, not at all. And that would be fine if he'd leave me alone. But he acts like we're friends in some sort of pathetic attempt to keep his name on my dance card in case Chris and I break up. Actually, in case I decide to cheat. So he invites me to get coffee...at his place. Or to go see a movie...but, wait, he didn't have time to look up listings so let's just watch something at his place.
Right, I see where this is going. And, of course, he is entitled to act that way. The real question is why I allow anyone to treat me that way. I know, in part, it's because sometimes I find the attention flattering. But it really isn't. It's insulting and sad and pathetic. I know that I should remove and block him on Facebook and delete his phone number. And yet, I don't. I tell myself that it's because I don't want to be rude, but that really doesn't explain it. I love the drama? It's thrilling? I'm happiest when I'm upset?
I don't know. And I'm closing comments on this, because even the most well-intentioned feedback on David is difficult for me to hear.
And one last thing: I love Chris. This has nothing to do with him. If he and I were not dating, David would still be on the periphery. I would either be dating someone else or single, but I wouldn't ignore David. I wouldn't make an effort to talk to him, but I wouldn't ignore him either. I know this is difficult to understand, and it's difficult for me to understand. Maybe when I get my medical insurance card, I'll find a therapist, because this is ridiculous.
Edited at 2:45 PM: I know, it's funny that I said I'd be brief and wrote all of this. HOWEVER, I left out a bunch more of mah feeeelings--the entry in my head had to deal with all sorts of rejection issues and other people who make me feel like crap, so provided I stop typing right now, we can say I was brief. So, yeah, just need to stop talking about this...
Edited at 2:51 PM: I want to reiterate my love for Chris and the fact that this has nothing to do with him! He makes me feel wonderful, and I am so incredibly happy to have him.
Actually, I'm wondering if my obsession with David is a need to prove my worth. I am insulted that he deemed me only fuckable and not relationship material, so this is why I can't get rid of him. I have to right this--not by dating or fucking him but by somehow taking these opportunities of contact that he gives me to show him that I am an awesome person and he is worse off for not having me in his life. Put simply, I'm bitter. Still. If I deleted him, I would stop being bitter because he would stop contacting me and I wouldn't have the reminder of my rejection to continually refresh my bitterness. Hmm...
Ok, shutting up now, for at least another 4 minutes.
I eventually had to admit to myself that he was not going to answer last night, and I should go to bed. So I did. When I woke up in the morning, I checked to see if he had contacted me, but he had not. So I texted him and then called. No response.
I was very concerned that he was going to break up with me because he had never been so unresponsive before. I also found it difficult to concentrate on other things because I hate having things that are unresolved. I called him again when I got to work, and he didn’t answer but called back immediately. So either he missed picking up in the three rings before his voicemail picked up or he didn’t want me to pay for the call.
And, in a nutshell, everything is fine. He said to me that I “underestimate the stability of our relationship” and that he’s willing to work through things with me. He admitted that he was angry last night but he isn’t now, but I still need to be more positive and work on these things because it’s not fun when I act that way. He’s right about everything, and I’m grateful that he can tolerate my being temperamental, even though I hate it as much as he does.
So: relief, gratitude, adoration. Everything is fine.
But then I noticed that someone I had had a summer fling with had unfriended me on Facebook, so I sent him a message to ask why. He tried to play it off as a systematic cleansing of the people on his friends list that he doesn’t communicate with (anymore), but I know him well enough to know that he does not keep up with well more than half of the other 300 people on his list. Which is to say: bullshit. Besides, this guy also maintains two dummy accounts for some of the Facebook games and I was friends with both of them…until today. So he was systematically cleansing his friends list and the friends lists of these two fake people? I doubt it. Unless he was systematically cleansing them of me.
My guess is that he saw all of the karaoke photos that I added of me and Chris looking happy together, and he decided that our fling was flung and had no hope of revival. So he cast me out of his 300.
Anyway, I sent him a message about it, and he responded. We wrote back and forth a few times and started rehashing our relationship/friendship, which was exhausting. He didn’t think that I ended things in a polite way, to say the least. But I’m not going to rehash it again. Once today was enough. Suffice to say that it was more than I wanted to deal with.
Next was my sister. She had up a Facebook status update about how she’s finished all of her Christmas shopping, and I responded, “Scary!” She wrote back something about all the presents being wrapped and so on, and I made some flippant remark about how she’ll probably end up buying more stuff because she’ll find more things before the 25th. Which is exactly what I would end up doing. And I just meant it to be funny; I can see how it could be misinterpreted, and, of course, it was.
She responded with this, “Sounds like you have an attitude or that you are a little bitter about something. I have no time to shop with kids, school, work, wedding, etc. I won't be buying anything else. If you have nothing nice to comment about then please say nothing. I don't want negativity! I love you all the same!”
So I deleted my comment. I wrote back something about how I hadn’t meant it to sound negative but I didn’t really feel like explaining myself and then I deleted that too. She changed her status to something about how she is annoyed by negative people—why can’t people just be happy for one day!?
I commented on that that she shouldn’t assume the worst and should take things more positively but that it was okay because “I love her anyway!” which was really bitchy of me. She deleted it. Figures. She’ll get over it. I’m not going to bother trying to fix it.
Finally, I had to make a key during my lunch hour for my landlord. There are two main doors to my apartment building and one has a new lock that he didn’t have a copy of. Actually, when I saw him last month, I gave him my spare set of keys and then I had to make a copy of this key for him. Why? Why the fuck am I making copies of keys for my landlord? How in the hell is that my responsibility? Will he reimburse me for this service? I doubt it.
If nothing else, it was a pain in the ass to find a place that would make the key. I went to one key maker who wouldn’t even do it. He looked at the key and decided it wasn’t possible and I was briefly irritated that my landlord asked the one non-native Czech in the building to do his bidding. That makes absolutely no sense. Or am I missing something?
Anyway, I have the damn key now to give to him. So everything is settled: Chris and I are in love and good; the fling has unfriended me but it may be for the best because I don’t need drama; my sister is peeved at me but she’ll get over it; I have the fucking key for my lazy landlord. I am, however, really goddamn exhausted.
The last time that it was turned off, someone had posted a notice on my building's door to let us know ahead of time that it would not be operational. It still annoys me greatly when the water is off (it's been off 5-6 times since I moved into this apartment in January), but at least I know in advance. Today? No warning.
I tried to find the men doing the construction work so I could ask them when it'd be turned back on--I'm a bit horrified at the thought that they'll forget to turn it back on and I'll be without water for the weekend or longer--but they didn't answer the door of the apartment they're working on when I knocked.
Also, the construction, in and of itself, is incredibly annoying. Last spring, they were working on this same apartment for a couple of weeks and I would wake up to buzzing and hammering on Saturday and Sunday mornings. And, of course, no one notified me in any way of this construction.
Chris will be here next weekend to celebrate his 30th birthday, and I pray we don't have a repeat of last spring's noise. Couple that with the water turned off, and he may think twice about dating someone who's willingly living in such a hellhole.
But his opinion of the Czech Republic is already incredibly low, so I imagine that this would scarcely faze him. And that sort of indifference might be well-earned. I mean, this is Eastern Europe. How could I possibly expect to have running water at regular intervals? That's just crazy!
I am in a bad mood and having a rather shitty day but nothing terrible has happened; mostly, it's things like the spilled coffee. For instance, I went to the store to buy some toothpaste and deodorant, and I gave the clerk 2000 crowns to pay for it. That's a big bill, and I can understand being a little annoyed, but guess what! That's her job!
I worked retail a couple of times, and I can tell you that it's not the end of the world when someone *gasp* expects you to make change! Besides, what change did I need from that? Four bills and two coins. Is that really so difficult?
It must've been, because she gave me a horrible, evil look and just stood there, like she expected me to take it back. No, lady, that's all I have.
This past weekend, Chris was marveling at how lazy some of the Czech work force is. He said that you'd never get away with that in Austria. You'd never get away with it in any civilized country. But a lot of people here are completely apathetic about working. You walk into a store and they often don't even look at you--forget greeting or helping you. They just continue to sulk in the back corner.
It is damn annoying.
So this woman wanted to make sure that I knew that I was severely inconveniencing her by asking her to do her job. And, believe me, I know it. And there's nothing I can do about it, you lazy, lazy woman.
Anyway, this sort of venting should be good for me but not when I'm doing it on such a sticky keyboard so forget it.
I don’t know how I can allow myself to be flattered by the things he does to pacify me, like the fucking Facebook poke. Ridiculous. At the moment, I don’t feel flattered; I feel pissed.
Here’s this week’s blow off message:
Hey Kate, sorry for my late answer.
Let's try to see each other at some point, I don't know how soon though, because I have more and more professional dinners and tastings after work, and then I try to socialize with other friends as soon as I can, AND to rest sometimes as well.
Let's keep in touch though!
Have a great week end!
David.
I really, really, really should not have let this go on for so long. We’re coming up on three months of this—me thinking that once he settled into his life here, we could date exclusively. Him thinking that he would never date me exclusively, because he just wants to have fun and/or keep his options open.
And you don’t even know the half of it. I guess I alluded to my depression around my birthday, and I think I even admitted that part of it had to do with David. At that point, I’d known him for maybe three weeks, and I was already hopelessly infatuated. But I was trying to put an end to it. It was still early enough that it wasn’t entirely stupid to think that something might come of it, but he had at least hinted that an exclusive relationship was months away, so I wanted to stop it.
The weekend before my birthday, I contacted practically everyone I knew in Prague. Ok, that’s a bit of an exaggeration. But some of my old standbys were not available: Caroline was at camp, Amy was in Paris—in fact, I think a huge chunk of people chose that first week of July to go on holiday. But I texted a sort of Distraction Brigade, including several people who I had no business contacting—like Fouad.
I also impulse bought tickets to London and made arrangements to stay with some guy I barely knew. And that was at least partially motivated by a desire to get David out of my mind (but also as a gift to myself, to take advantage of free accommodations in London, and to ward off my boredom and depression here in Prague).
But when my London host flaked and told me he couldn’t meet me until the morning following my late Friday arrival and David asked me out for Saturday night, I canceled the trip. I rescheduled the flights so that I wouldn’t waste the money and, actually, I’m supposed to fly to London in…a week. I could certainly use the distraction. And I bet I could find someone to put me up.
But I know that’s not a solution. Contact with David needs to end, because it’s too painful and going nowhere. And then, really, I think I need to get the hell out of Prague but that will take months of planning. I guess, though, that I could start.
His response to my conversation request was something like, “Damn, I’m really curious,” but he had a bad day on Friday so we avoided the serious subjects, downed a bottle of Riesling, ate chocolate ice cream, and watched Love Actually.
During the movie, he asked me three bits of trivia (in relation to what we were watching), and I bombed his quiz. In all honesty, I should have scored 2/3, but I second guessed myself and really only answered one question correctly. And even that required him to give me the answer in French, so I’m not quite sure I scored any points at all. Let’s see how you do.
1. What is/was Margaret Thatcher’s nickname?
2. What precedes the line “Silence is golden” in the famous proverb?
3. What do you call the musical instrument that looks like a set of pipes in a row and that you blow into?
I told him to stop asking me things that I don’t know, to which he responded, very playfully, “Well, know them.”
But it’s such a male thing to quiz people like that. My dad does it, Kosta does it, Fouad does it, and Dirk does it.
And, incidentally, here are three stories about three of those four individuals.
Kosta: I am so pissed at him right now. I wrote last week that I went to see The Dark Knight with him and Amy, but what I didn’t say was that he was supposed to meet me at 7:45 (for an 8:30 movie) to pick up our reserved tickets. When I got to the theater about 7:40, I couldn’t believe how long the line was. I wasn’t sure if our reserved tickets would’ve allowed us to bypass the line, but I figured I would get in line and wait for him and then one of us could check it out while the other held the spot.
At 7:45, I tried to call him but he didn’t answer. This is something that really annoys me about him. Because we have different phone services (mine is Vodafone and his is T-Mobile), it’s a little pricy to have a call. So whenever I call him, he doesn’t pick up because he doesn’t think that I should pay for such an expensive call (mind you, it’s my money and not his). This irritates me because I only call when I need something and it's my decision how I spend my money. I hate when he's so damn parental.
Eventually he sent me a text message to say he was running late and would meet me at the nearby McDonald’s after I bought the tickets.
30 minutes later, I was finally through the line and went to McDonald’s. He showed up 5 minutes later, and Amy arrived about the same time. This is when he tried to pay me back for his ticket, only he totally ripped me off. Instead of giving me the cash, he gave me these stupid-ass coupons. He said that I can use them to buy movie tickets and at lots of stores and the stores are on the back of the ticket, and I didn’t really bother to look at them because it never would have occurred to me that my friend was trying to screw me.
But the truth is that you can’t buy movie tickets with those coupons. They only work at travel agencies, a water park, and a couple of eyeglass shops. Why did he give them to me? Because he’s a fucking douche, that’s why. Honestly, there was no way he was confused about them (and I showed them to some Czechs to verify that I was, in fact, screwed over), because he is too sharp for that.
This comes on top of him not paying his full share the last two times we ate a meal together. One of those occasions was my birthday, and I sort of didn’t mind that he didn’t pay his half (his was maybe 20 crowns more expensive than mine) because I chose an expensive restaurant. But he threw out his 320 crowns on a 900 crown bill and said, “That covers me,” and I gave him a look like, “No it doesn’t.” But I just paid the other 600 anyway.
I am so naïve. I have just never encountered so many users as I have here, and I think I am done trying to be his friend. If he contacts me again, I will talk to him and I will ask him about those stupid tickets. But I am not going to bother getting in touch with him. That’s just bullshit.
Fouad: Similar story, total user. He asked me out for coffee, and I knew as soon as he ordered honey cake that he expected me to pay for him. It was one of those cases of ordering more than you normally would when you think you’re not footing the bill.
Anyway, he is married and he has residence in the EU for the next five years. And to that, I say, “Well done!” Because I really don’t know how he pulled it off. He can only hold on to a job for a couple of months and then spends the next couple of months unemployed. So I really don’t know how he paid that off.
But now that he has it, he wants to go back to visit his family in Algeria.
So he asked me for $2000.
Which he amended to $1000.
I shook my head and made him pay for his own damn coffee and honey cake.
Dirk: Actually, there isn’t much of a story here. But he’s been a very good friend to me this past week, which I’ve needed. I’ve been very moody, and he’s talked me through a couple of crying spells on the phone. Tomorrow, I fly to Germany to visit him. I return on Monday. I haven’t seen him since November of 2006, so it should be fun to see how the two of us have changed.
Naturally, he and I gossiped about Fouad, and he told me that Fouad is now married. Married only on paper for EU residence, but married nonetheless. Omar also referred to Fouad as “woman hungry,” which I found very interesting and accurate. Omar doesn’t know one way or the other if Fouad is sleeping around or if Fouad ever cheated on me, but he described him as always keeping an eye open, watching the wimmenfolk with drool pooling around the corners of his mouth. Again, sounds accurate.
I also have new information on Chris but how I obtained this information is a long and dull story. Essentially, I know that he is alive, well, and wanting nothing to do with me. I have no idea what I did wrong, although I have speculated like hell over the past three months. I will probably never know what I did wrong, and I find that infuriating.
But some of these recent interactions with avoidant men have been very enlightening. I have never been the type to make a list of desires in a potential mate, but I finally have one item for such a list, and you can boil it down to not playing any of these bullshit avoidant games.
When Kosta and I were breaking up, I wanted to talk to him in person. Or even on the phone. Instead, we were sending each other text messages and Facebook messages—his largely amounting to, “Work on yourself (because I don’t have time to cultivate you), and I will contact you again—don’t contact me and I won’t see you or talk about this for another week.” Do you know how much that pissed me off?
That is my button, and he pushed it.
I told him this later, in our recent, largely successful attempt to just be friends. I said that I will not date someone who avoids confrontation, who is not going to try to solve a problem with me, and who goes into ignore mode. He said something like, “You never really know someone until you fight with them.” Which is true. And I joked that I was going to have to start picking fights with any potential mates.
Or, when we do get around to confrontation, if I see signs of Bullshit Avoidant Games, I am going to end it. I do not have the patience.
(Of course, I realize there are different shades of this. Some people try not to be overly reactant and instead let problems at least simmer before dealing with them. But if I directly ask someone to sort something out and he tells me no, it means he will always push my buttons, simply by being himself. Bad omen.)
Moving on from love, thanks to
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
botia for sending me a birthday card. That was very sweet!Also, I will see my parents in 4 days.
My dad’s brother had a heart attack yesterday and was in surgery all day; I assume that he is okay but I’m awaiting updates.
For now, this is enough of what’s going around in my head.
The advantage was that I would go from paying about $570 a month to $230 a month, and I’d have a ton of extra space (including a loft and a HUGE kitchen/potential living room). Plus, Lenka and her roommate agreed to sell me some of their old furniture and old (although practically brand new) appliances—they even threw in the toilet seat at no extra charge. Yes, my apartment didn’t even come with a toilet seat.
Unfortunately, this all came up rather suddenly and I had given my landlord the impression that I would extend my lease into 2008, even though I hadn’t signed a contract. So, to keep from being a complete shit, I asked Fouad to see if any of his friends wanted my old apartment. One did. Perfect! Everyone wins!
So I sent the landlord an SMS to explain that I would not be staying but that one of my friends wanted to live there, and the landlord called me back, sounding exasperated and like he was unable to funnel all of his anger through his limited English. It did not make matters better, I suspect, when I told him that my friend was Iraqi. The landlord told me that he and his wife wanted to meet the Iraqi, and could we get together the next morning in my apartment?
He never contacted me to tell me that the time of this meeting would not be the next day but roughly two hours after we had spoken on the phone, and I was in the process of moving some of my belongings to the new flat when the Iraqi called Fouad about this. Fine.
Two hours later, everyone was standing in my tiny apartment, and the landlord and his wife were screaming in Czech. This happened as soon as they walked into my kitchen (where the entry is) and saw that the handle on one of my cabinets was broken. Yes, I broke it. It was a cheap, plastic thing, and you can take that out of my deposit, thanks.
In addition to the broken cabinet, I had my belongings strewn about—I was doing laundry and packing. After I moved out, I planned to put everything precisely as I left it and scrub everything cleaner than it was when I moved in, because I wanted my $625 deposit back.
But I guess everything was supposed to be perfect at that moment, and the landlord stood in front of me and SCREAMED, “Original condition! ORIGINAL CONDITION!”
He and his wife than started going through the fridge, drawers, cabinets, and my laundry to make sure that I hadn’t stolen a spoon or broken another handle.
I was so upset that I left the apartment and called my mom—the first time I’ve ever called her from Prague (save Skype, of course). I’m sure my mom appreciated her grown daughter crying hysterically and unintelligibly about the friggin' landlord when my mom was planning for the burial of her father the following day.
I’m full of tact.
Anyway, after this, Fouad and I did as we had planned. We moved out all of my belongings and cleaned the apartment. Everything sparkled. He returned the keys to the landlord and asked when I would get back my deposit, to which the landlord responded, “What deposit?”
Fortunately, it’s in my contract that I paid the deposit and we got THAT bit of ugliness sorted out, and the landlord said it would be 14 days before he would pay me back. This was also in the contract, and I accepted the terms.
Yesterday was that 14th day, however, and instead of arranging a meeting to discuss how much of my $625 would be used to pay for a $2 cabinet handle, I received an SMS from the landlord saying that my Iraqi friend hadn’t signed a contract and would be moving out on the 24th. It wasn’t until the 24th that he could inspect the flat and see how much to repay me.
I responded today to tell him, as politely as possible because I am trying to avoid more ugliness, that I found it difficult to believe that he hadn’t inspected the flat, considering the search to which he subjected me when I still lived there (and do you remember him coming in once when I was in bed?). Furthermore, I was not responsible for anything that happened in or to the flat after the 31st of December, so I WILL NOT be held accountable if something isn't in ORIGINAL CONDITION. If he failed to inspect the apartment after I moved out, that is not my fault.
I think he’s expecting me to roll over, but I won’t. Well, I am starting to ask myself if I would pay $625 to avoid him and his wife screaming at me again and to not involve lawyers, and I don’t know, honestly.
I’ve been of the opinion that the landlord and his wife are batshit crazy, but Fouad thinks they’re very smart—blowing up this plastic cabinet handle into a $625 expense and possibly making it so unpleasant to deal with them that I cease dealing with them at all.
While the contract is binding, which puts the law on my side, I have imagined me in a Czech jury trial, and I don’t think anyone would rule in favor of the fat American and her Arab boyfriend. I’m sure the landlord knows this and that, as a foreigner, I am fucked. $625 worth of fucked. Thank God that toilet seat was free.
I did this tonight, and, while writing, consumed the majority of a German fruitcake. I also became extremely agitated and frustrated because I had to finish this tonight, and I was having trouble finding the intersection of what I thought my family wanted me to write and what I wanted to say. And then, of course, I had to reconcile this with my writing style and limitations. Plus this was far more important than any college term paper, so there couldn't be even the slightest mistake.
Anyway, I'm trying to be a better person ("better" being intentionally vague), because I've been thinking a lot about my grandpa and everything he did to make life better for me, and I want to show my appreciation by being a similarly positive person in other people's lives.
And so I've tried to be more patient these last few days. I've tried to be more understanding. But so frustrated was I while writing my little eulogy that I became annoyed by Fouad (yes, we're back/still together) and told him that I needed to be alone and to please leave so I could finish, except there wasn't really a "please" but there was a lot of yelling.
In my defense, Fouad is completely incapable of entertaining himself. He needs some kind of electronic stimulation at all times and my occupying the computer (and I don't have a television) left him with nothing to do but pester me.
And so he left and he hasn't been back. That was more than four hours ago and it's now 3 in the morning. He turned off his phone, which is completely unlike him, so I have no way of getting in touch with him. Fantastic.
I'd like to stay up a bit longer in the hopes that my mom will get on Skype and tell me about the visitation, but that may be a while. And I should probably get some rest so that I can be a "better" person tomorrow.
- Music:Garth Brooks - "To Make You Feel My Love"
Anyway, I saw the doctor on Thursday and it was about as fun as you'd expect an introductory therapy appointment to be, i.e., within minutes of meeting this man, I proceeded to tell him about every embarrassing, depressing, personal detail of my life--the kinds of things that people I've known for years don't even know. I had the feeling that I was dispatching this information far too easily, like, shouldn't he have bought me a drink first?
So the psychiatrist must've been a bit of a visual learner, because he asked me to make a diagram of my emotional wellbeing throughout my lifetime, and I estimated this as best as I could. I drew a squiggly line to represent the last 2-3 years of my life--up and down, up and down.
He reciprocated by drawing a diagram for me. At the top of his page was happiness via social and physical activities. At the bottom was a life of drugs and alcohol. Directly above the drugs was where he put me. He told me that my current life choices are only superior to a life of drugs and alcohol. He then gave me this sheet of paper to have. For reference.
I'm not sure, but I think I can remember that.
At the end of the appointment, he wrote me a prescription for three months worth of medication. I asked him how much it would cost, and it's somewhere in the ballpark of $600-$800. He said that I could ask my American insurance to cover this, but I know damn well that they will not.
...Which influences my decision to cancel my insurance. What's the point of paying for something that does absolutely nothing? I'll soon be covered by my work permit/visa, so hopefully the next time I need a refill, my Czech insurance will cover it.
If that's the case, though, I'm going to need a new psychiatrist to write those prescriptions, because this one isn't in the insurance system. Or something.
So I get to go through all of this again in three months--complete with finding a new psychiatrist. Fucking lovely.
I hope the next one will draw pictures with me too.
- Music:Ragtime - "Your Daddy's Son"
Maybe one whole minute into the thirty, I started crying, and he saw his window of opportunity to comfort me and wipe away my tears with a tissue. And there I was, accepting him again.
It really doesn't surprise me that I am this weak. Why else have I been mugged and swindled and sexually assaulted in my own apartment? It isn't because I'm unlucky. I see all the warning signs, but I'm too worried about offending someone to protect myself.
In this case with Fouad, I keep asking myself if I would rather be a fool or an asshole. My history points to the former, and I don't expect this to be any different. And it's not simply out of kindness, as much as I'd like to believe it. Yesterday I started to panic at the thought of not having him, of having no one. I have only spent nine months of my adult life without a significant other. I am scared to be alone.
I am wondering if I can avoid breaking up with him for a couple of weeks, so that I can slowly withdraw from him and end my emotional investment. Then,I can send him packing without feeling like I am losing anything. I don't know.
The problem now is that he and I really don't have the opportunity to talk about any of this until Sunday, because he works all nights until then. Then he'll sleep until 3 PM, go to the mosque, and then socialize with his friends until it's time to go to work. Okay, I really don't have the opportunity to talk about it. He has the opportunity to talk to me, but he chooses to meet with friends instead of dealing with the situation.
Anyway, yesterday around 5 PM, he came by my home with his friend Ali, and the three of us went to the pub across the street, where I had mineral water, Ali had coffee, and Fouad had nothing because of Ramadan. "He's a good man, and a good Muslim," Ali told me.
So the story they were peddling at this point was that Ali called the Jameloya phone number and spoke to the woman in Slovak. She did not speak any English, and she told him that she bought the phone (sim card and all?) at a bazaar. I wasn't completely clear about the sex SMS--if it happened before she had the phone or if it had been her friend that sent it.
So, according to Fouad, the phone was in the possession of a man on Saturday around 11:45 PM when he received a call from that number. On Sunday, the phone was sold at a bazaar so that on Monday night, the sex SMS could be sent from another person.
Ali swore up and down that this was true and that he'd call the number again and speak with the woman in front of me, but I said no. He said that he told the woman she had caused big problems for Fouad and me and to never contact him again. Ali also said that the woman promised to send me an apology via SMS but I have yet to receive it.
After this, I had dinner with Caroline while Fouad had dinner with his friends. He called me twice and put his friends on the phone to prove that he wasn't with a woman.
Later, he and I stayed awake into the early morning, watching movies and talking. Everything felt normal.
But today, I have been angry at him, because I do not believe him and I do not trust him. Also, one would think that he would want to resolve the problem with me but instead I only saw him between 5 and 6, after he had gone to the mosque and before he met his friends for their Ramadan supper.
Anyway, I'm not so daft that I don't understand how truly bad this is. But I'm going to try to put some distance between us without actually breaking up, because that will be easier for me, and this is all about making life better for me, isn't it?
- Location:Prague, CZ
- Music:Rilo Kiley - "Paint's Peeling"
Frankly, I am appalled by myself and how I can see both sides of a rather obvious situation, but here I am, giver of second chances and the benefit of doubt.
Yesterday evening, Fouad and I were here, at home, when he received a phone call. I don't know who called, but it was presumably one of his friends, and he said he would go out and see this friend if I wanted to go see Caroline.
Caroline had sent me an SMS earlier asking to meet up, but I had told her no, because I was with Fouad. So I told Fouad that I wasn't going to see Caroline (besides, it was around 9 PM and Caroline has to go to bed by 10 to get up for work), but he could go out and I'd stay home. He said that if I wasn't going out, then he wouldn't go out, but I insisted.
When he still resisted, I said I'd go with him, and he said that if I went, then he wouldn't meet this friend who called but call up another mutual friend (Ali) and we could go have coffee with him. I didn't find this particularly odd because he greatly resists introducing me to men, and I imagined this was the case.
Eventually he agreed to go out, and I stayed home. He said that he would be home by 10, but, seeing that it was already after 9, I figured this was unlikely.
Still, at 11:20, I was feeling a little shafted and I sent him an SMS, asking him where he was. He didn't respond but he was home 20 minutes later.
There was something about him that seemed a little off, I thought. He was perspiring lightly, which I thought was unusual. But he started talking like normal, telling me about his friend and what they discussed over coffee.
Somehow, the topic changed to religion--and, mind you, it is maybe 11:45, so he has only been home for five minutes. A minute into the discussion, he got a far away look in his eyes and then they looked exceptionally moist, and he wiped away a couple of tears.
I asked him what was wrong, what had happened, if he was okay, and he said he was crying because I'm an atheist, and he is worried about me. His concern over this subject was nothing new, although the tears certainly were, and I didn't believe that was why he was crying. I thought the tears were certainly tied to his being a little off.
Then, he received an SMS. I watched him go to retrieve it, and he fiddled with his phone for quite some time before he opened it. He sometimes exercises similar ineptitude with my computer, so I didn't find this especially odd, but, in the course of his trying to open his SMS, he did manage to delete the text in the box where one writes text messages, although, from my vantage point, it looked like a bunch of random characters, like he had been sitting on his phone or something.
Finally, he opened it. It said:
I sat there beside him, processing this for a minute, and the feeling was completely surreal. At first there was a sickness in my stomach and then I was crying and finally I started to gather up his belongings to throw him out.
He stopped me and tried to explain. He said that this SMS--which, by the way, was the second he had received from this same person in the last 30 minutes and which was sent from a number in his address book--was from a man. The name? Jameloya. I said this sounded like a woman's name and he refuted that it was a surname.
He continued to say that this man obviously doesn't like him, and that he must have seen Fouad en route to my apartment and decided to send an SMS in English so that I would see it and get mad. Hmm.
At my insistence, he tried to call this Jameloya, but he didn't have enough credit on his phone. So we used mine. But, obviously, calling from a second number only confused matters and the woman--not man, but woman--who answered clearly didn't know what to make of the situation, i.e., what is this new number?
Fouad spoke with her, asking if she sent him an SMS and if she knew him and what his name was, but the answers were all unclear. She didn't provide his name, and, at one point, passed the phone to another woman, and eventually she (or Fouad?) hung up the phone. It didn't prove anything one way or the other, as far as I was concerned.
Next, Fouad decided that he could remedy the situation by going out, so I told him that I would go with him.
First, he went to the pizzeria, where he works, and he and one of his friends went in the back and conversed for roughly five minutes. I stood outside and waited, thinking, crying. Neither one of us accomplished anything in this.
Likewise, a trip by foot to Wenceslas Square turned up nothing--neither Jameloya, the spiteful man, nor Jameloya, the other woman. Still, I was grateful for this time we were out, because I was able to think about the situation without having to discuss it with him.
At one point, I called Leon, because I wanted support, but I only got his voice mail, so I left him a very melodramatic message. When Fouad saw what I was doing, he again began crying, this time much harder. He said he never cried, not over a woman. He said he was crying because he loves me and if I loved him, I would believe him.
Somehow we made enough peace to go home and go to sleep, but it didn't feel at all resolved to me. I think he assumed today that it would be forgotten and he was very surprised to see me crying again.
I again tried to break up with him this afternoon, and told him to "Go, go, go." But he said to me, "I cannot...live without you." And I found myself not really believing him, but accepting him. Again.
And now he is here, so I will post this, and deal with the here and now.
- Location:Prague, CZ
- Music:Neko Case - "That Teenage Feeling"
This New Yorker has rubbed me the wrong way almost since I first met him. My assessment of him for Caroline has always been that he is interesting and witty but very arrogant. Caroline said that she gets the same vibes from him, but I think she feels extremely guilty about not liking him. Me? Not so much.
The main reason that I don't like him is because of the way he acted at the rooftop grill party that he and Caroline threw at the beginning of July--the same party at which I ate an avocado and got incredibly sick.
Anyway, he declared one day that he was going to have a party and then he invited a bunch of people. To his credit, he bought a grill, so that there could actually be a grill party, but he didn't lift a finger to help obtain food or alcohol, and that really pissed me off.
Caroline and Asger (a roommate who no longer lives there and who was not throwing the party) bought and made the food, and somehow I got volunteered to help with the alcohol.
You see, in their apartment were several crates of empty beer bottles that Caroline intended to carry to a nearby grocery store and turn in for filled bottles. Of course, Caroline's apartment is on the fourth floor of a building that doesn't have an elevator, so carrying these extremely heavy crates was something of a chore.
And did the big, strong New Yorker dude help? No. He was home, and I asked if he "wanted" to help, which I thought was the politest way to phrase the question, but phrasing it like that made it easy for him to refuse.
Instead, Caroline, Jirka, and I carried these crates--Jirka and I being guests of the party, or so I thought. That really annoyed me and led me to believe that this New Yorker is the kind of guy who tries to get away with doing the least work possible (and you know how I feel about those people!).
But that wasn't the only thing he did that day that I found annoying. The second happened when I wanted to leave after getting sick from the avocado. I couldn't leave on my own, though, because Caroline's apartment building is locked so that, unless you have a key, you cannot get out. This sort of arrangement would never be acceptable in America, obviously, because you'd be trapped if there were a fire, but it's quite common here.
So, at this party, after I ate the avocado, I sat in Caroline's bed and waited until someone had to go downstairs to let in more guests. That person turned out to be the New Yorker.
So I followed him down the stairs, but I was so sick that he was able to let in his friends before I got there, and, seeing that the door was shut, I asked him to open it.
He told me that it was unlocked and then made some snotty remark about how you turn the knob and pull, like I didn't know how to open a door. All of his friends snickered, and I couldn't believe someone would actually say something like that.
...Yeah, I don't like him.
The reason I bring him up right now is that Caroline wants him to move out (it's her lease), but obviously she's far too kind to evict him. But, while I was in the States, he:
1. Ate food of hers that was in the fridge with a "DO NOT EAT" note.
2. Used one of her bath towels to clean the oven and then threw it away.
3. Threw out all of her dish towels.
4. Threw away a pair of her shoes.
5. Ate food of hers that was in her room.
All of these activities are the kinds of behavior that show he has no concern for anyone else or, at least, their belongings.
Caroline said she's going to post signs around the apartment so that he won't do any of these things again, but, if I had any say in the matter, I would definitely vote this guy out. Back to America for you, buddy.
- Location:Prague, CZ
- Music:Les Miserables - "Prologue"
I am having a very difficult time receiving support. I first sent you a question nearly two months ago, and I was never answered. I called tech support three times--twice I was cut off and the third time I was told that I couldn't be helped because I wasn't in the United States, even though I am an American and my computer was purchased in California, where I reside. I am currently abroad in the Czech Republic, so I called tech support in the Czech Republic but I couldn't receive service because your agent didn't speak English (not his fault, of course--that's why I tried the US number).
I will try this again and I hope I will receive an answer this time. I really apologize for complaining but my husband talked me into getting a Thinkpad because he was blown away by your service and my experience has been nothing but negative.
Here's the issue:
I have a 100 GB hard drive on a computer I purchased in April. That hard drive is full, but I cannot account for 40-50 GB of the space.
Now, I transfered roughly 20 GB of data from my last computer, and my program files and Windows files take up between 30 and 40 GB total. But I don't know what has happened to the rest of my hard drive space.
I have run disk clean up, emptied my recycle bin, deleted temporary files, etc. I downloaded some silly disk space program, which broke up my disk space into a little pie chart but it also didn't find the missing 40-50 GB.
I have defragged and looked for an answer online. The one that seemed most promising was that my backup memory was using a lot of extra space but I looked into this and that is not the case.
Is it possible that my computer can't recognize half of its storage space? Is this a virus? What can I do about this? And if I need to send my computer in to be serviced, can I do that in the Czech Republic or do I have to wait until I return to the States in six weeks?
Thanks,
Kate
If they ignore me again, well, I guess there isn't a damn thing I can do about it. I already bought my fucking laptop from them. I guess I'll just sit here and sulk.
- Mood:
pissed off - Music:Chopin - "Mazurka in A Minor, Op. 17, No. 4"
Caroline was furious. It was an anger that I understand but have trouble explaining, largely because my American cellphone never meant to me what my Czech cellphone means.
That's partially because I never got into text messaging but also because I maintained a lot of contact with people through email. But here, my main (or only) way of contacting certain people is through that phone. I have text messages stored with directions, and losing that phone would suck.
But it was much worse for Caroline, who had dozens more contacts than I have and who had been texting someone about a job. When her phone was stolen, she lost all contact with the potential employer. It was infuriating for her, especially considering that the thieves will just throw her sim card away.
Plus, this is the second or third time that Caroline's phone has been stolen in Prague.
So I went over to her apartment to console her or at least be with her (not sure I was any good at the consolation), and she and I walked to the store together because she had started to make dinner and realized she didn't have any pasta sauce.
She was crying when she came downstairs to meet me and crying when we walked to the store, hand in hand, as we sometimes do. Men on the street noticed us and jabbed their friends to stare and laugh because, I guess, OMGZ, they're holding hands! They must be lesbians! Or something.
But when we got closer to them, they could see that Caroline was crying, and I'm really not sure that their pea-sized brains could handle the juxtaposition. It was like you could see the thought process written on their faces: "They're lesbians, and lesbians are supposed to be hot, yet one of them is...sad. Life has lost all meaning."
Caroline turned around at a group of them who were staring at us after we had walked by and she made a face. "Czech people are so rude," she said.
Then she told me what had happened, and I was a bit relieved to learn that it was basically a pickpocket situation and not one of force. Because I feel pretty safe here, and I don't want to think that a gang of teenagers is going to threaten me for my cellphone--especially because I don't understand Czech and would really hate to get stabbed because I lacked a proper translator.
Anyway, Caroline knew that it was two teenage boys who took her phone, because they were sitting beside her at an internet cafe and they just took it out of her bag when she wasn't looking. "Fucking punk kids!" she said.
And let me repeat that:
Fucking. Punk. Kids.
This was her refrain for the first half of the evening, or, at least, I'd like to imagine it was, because it was mine when a group of teenage boys took my iPod in Berkeley.
In her fury, Caroline described several colorful scenarios for punishing not just the boys who took her phone but all teenage boys.
But I'm not quite so angry, so I'll just say this: Teenage boys, we are onto you and your shenanigans!
There. That ought to teach them.
- Location:Prague, Czech Republic
- Music:Fiona Apple - "Carrion"
