My first sexual experience (27 years old)

I had been at the house for a while now. I had my little life. It was the first time that I was truly on my own. I was exhausted and tired and confused. I had come to LA for companionship. I had come because I wanted sex, and now I was really angry. Where was my sex? Why hadn't I had sex yet? There were all these woman running around but I didn't seem to know how to get any. Was I awkward? Was there something wrong with me? I felt that there was. For some reason, I simply didn't see myself having sex. I wanted it, but there was something missing in the human connection department. I wanted pleasure, but I don't think that my mind saw it as a means to connect with other people. I was scared, and tired, and hiding deep inside, and I yearned most to know me. That was my true desire. I couldn't honestly say that I wanted to get to know another person.

There came this one Saturday night, and I had had it. I just needed to get out of my mind, and out of my house. I thought about the whole city and thought to myself, "there has got to be someone in this city that I could hang out with". In my mind, I was thinking sex.I decided to park my car, and head to Ocean Avenue. There were some bars, and people walking around, I figured, if anything was going to happen, that would be a good place to start.

I walked into a drum shop. I had never done this before. It must have been about 8:00 at night and I started drumming on one of the drums. I was semi enjoying myself but looking back, I can tell that, inside, I was dying to have sex, or some kind of close connection with another person. I wanted to know that I was human. I needed to know that I was whole, that I was human , that I could get close to another person. I was aching to know that my body could be touched by another and have another touch it.

As my luck would have it. In came JC. he was a man I had met a couple years earlier. H was good looking and in the gym, he had once given me a very warm hug. I did not know it at the time, of the hug, but looking back, it was probably the kind of hug a gay man gives to another person he is interested in. I knew nothing of hugs, and gayness. I just knew that I really appreciated that hug. I remember it felt so good to be held that close. I needed it and I remembered it, but at the time, I knew nothing of what a person might do with a hug or where it could lead. I just knew that it felt good.


He and his definitely gay friend Patrick, had come into the store together. Somehow we all got to talking. I was excited by the conversation and had no idea where it may lead. I just knew that I had been distant from any kind of friendship that felt close and warm. I simply never had it and so I had no idea what I was missing. I had come to LA, and looking back, I had spent most of my energy just trying to survive, and make sense of the disaster that I had just been through. I knew that I was living in a beautiful place with all kinds of strange weird and different people. I knew that somehow, I fit in because I felt more relaxed being myself, but I surely did not know enough about myself to venture out and have a friend. Now, I was chatting with these two fellows and they invited me back to their home. That was exciting since, I don't think I had ever been invited anywhere (except for a shabbos meal or something.............or a bris, but then again, you're not supposed to be invited so does it count?)


As soon as I walked into their house, I had a really good feeling about being there. There where delicious tantalizing smells of oils and incense. The living room was a spacious and cozy area where people just did whatever, no furniture just lying down and relaxing kinds of spaces. Patrick was a masseuse. I didn't even know what that was at that time. I didn't even know that people were paid to massage other people's bodies. I surely didn't know that they were paid to do his kind of massage, which included a very unique event.


My head had been, was (and still is sometimes) in the clouds and then, it would take ropes of iron to bring it down to this planet and teach it some things about the way this world worked and didn't. I noticed that there was a lot of touch going on. As people just sat chatting and watching TV, they would touch each other, just gentle petting and soothing. I was amazed that this was considered normal. It seemed so natural to them. I felt so awkward and yet, I yearned for what they had. Why couldn't I do this too? I yearned to feel that comfortable with my body. It seemed like such a natural and real experience and right to be able and feel comfortable touching another's body. After all, I had hands and legs and I wanted to use them. Somehow, I knew intuitively that there was so much that could be told and shared through simple touch. I wanted to have that too, but somehow I knew that that destiny was not mine. I didn't know why and I wondered how it could be this way, but I knew that my body was not meant to touch and be touched. I had never had that experience and the distance made the possibility and impossibility. I had been so far from the world of touch that my mind, body, did not really know that it existed, but yearned for it with every fiber, somehow knowing that it was lacking something so raw and essential to being human.


The night was winding down, and everyone seemed to gravitate towards their cuddle positions, or buddied, but I surely did not feel confident enough in my body to do that. I so much wanted to be one of those people who could relate, connect to another human being on that level. My soul was crying inside, because I knew that it had promised a long time ago that it would never want touch or yearn for it. I knew that somehow, that world did not belong to me. My hands were tied and my heart was crying.

Turns out JC decided to stay and sleep down stairs and he invited me to cuddle with him. His personality was such that I felt comfortable being near him. He had so much peace and acceptance of his body that even I was able to feel slightly more at ease near him. It felt so good to be near him. I had never been next to another person before. He was also strong and good looking and it felt nice to be that close to anyone. In my inclination, I had always thought about women, but when it came down to the moment, of possibility of being touched, nothing of that sort and inclination meant anything to me. I was happy with what I was having.

He and I began touching each other. He began touching my body, my chest, my arms and eventually my genitals. i was getting so excited. I had never had this in my whole life. I was 27 I had never masturbated. I didn't know it was possible. I had only thoughts, about women, and about being touched and touching in return. I touched his chest. I touched his face, but I must be honest I felt really weird about this. At the same time, it felt great because I was touching skin, and the skin responded accordingly. I was learning about my arms, and my chest and legs and penis in ways that I had never known. I had been so much in my brain, my mind, the debate and challenge, that I had forgotten that there were far more essential ways to interact with life, with others, with bodies, with minds and hearts. Like a man who had had his limbs cut off, I had had my heart removed so long ago that it had forgotten how to behold another. I was now remembering some very vital parts of myself and it hurt and it sang because there was a longing that had known in the deepest ways what it had wanted and a memory that always knew what should be but so many mind barriers that refused to let the natural take place.

Now, as we touched my body began getting heated up. I felt my penis become hard and I had never felt that happen in this way. In the past, in gemara days, it was hard in a tangential way, an accidental, unwanted way, where I needed to try to hope and pretend that my body was not trying to drag me out of the sacred walls of the yeshiva. Now, at this very different moment with JC, I was still aware of my disposition towards my body, viewing it as an evil distraction from all that is important, but now I was more aware than ever of how much pleasure there was to be had. I was actually getting happy and excited. I felt blood rushing through my veins, and my arms moved with increasing wildness, aiming for something that I did not know. They seemed to want something and that itself was precious because I didn't remember ever wanting something so badly. Wanting meant that I was alive and I hadn't felt that alive ever since I could remember (except for that one time when I couldn't find the answer to R Akiva Eigers kasha).

Finally there came that crucial moment. I felt like I was going to cum. I had no idea what that meant, I just knew that I felt like I was about to explode and that I had no choice about it. I hated and loved the feeling of having absolutely no choice, it was as if for the first time in my life, another power was guiding me instead of my erratic brain. I always hated being out of control, but for this moment, I seemed to relish the distraction from the constant debate of right and wrong and how to make everything perfect.

I had to think fast. what am I supposed to do . My body told me that I am now supposed to put my penis into his butt, but I wasn't sure that I wanted to do that. The artist in me said, "why not?" but, then again, I had always known myself as having an inclination towards women. I had never in my life imagined or wanted or thought about touching a man. I also had no protection and got really nervous about catching something. I was smart enough to know that if he was doing this with me, he was doing this with anyone. Wouldn't it be a shame if I caught something on my first time around. How do I trust him? I was also nervous about his expectations. I knew so little about the world of sex that I had no idea, why he was doing this with me. what was he getting out of it? was how it went good for him. The truth is, I hate to admit this, I really didn't care. I was so distant from what it was like to have meaningful sex, and to care about another person as an equal that I simply didn't think about his being satisfied. I simply wanted to have my childhood wished met. Looking back, at that young and emotionally immature age of 28, I still had no idea what mean to think about another. All I thought about was me. The child, the young boy in me wanted to be comforted and held, and in reality, my interaction with JC had very little to do with sex, and much more to do with a small, young child who still wanted to be held. I can't imagine, and don't want to imagine his experience of the interaction because I had no intention or desire here to give him any pleasure. It was all about me, with not one neuron devoted to anyone else.

Finally, my body made up my mind for me. It was just way too hard, and way too excited. I just came all over him. All the excitement vanished in just one second. I had never experienced that, one moment the most powerful force coursing through me and the next moment, it was gone. How did that happen? Two diametrically opposed experiences coming together as one, and how did that happen. I had never masturbated before and I had not known anything about how the penis responds when it was touched but now I knew that I had a lot to learn and that it could give me a whole lot of pleasure.

He and I went to sleep near each other. I woke up in the morning. I had this notion that I will never forget " I believe in God" I was shocked at that notion since I knew that I was sinning by letting my body spit out its semen. That couldn't have been good I knew. I had just indulged in the pleasure of the flesh. I still had this immense feeling of joy. I had recalled, my body, mind seemed to remember all the fear and anger that I had over not being able to have sex. somehow, in yeshiva, and in the process of getting to know myself, I realized that I wouldn't be having sex any time soon. I knew that marriage was the only way and somehow, I knew that I would not be getting married any time soon. this got me so angry. I was furious at God, for putting me in this predicament where my body begged for sex, thought about sex, yearned for sex, but couldn't have it. How could you do this to me? How can these two realities exist, the electric attack going on in my body and the divine truth of the Torah. These two forces had pulled at my conscience for so long, making any kind of allegiance irritable, and insecure.

Now, for the first time, I felt unity. My body had been fed. It had received some of what it had always yearned for, to know what it's like to touch and be touched, to heat its kettle and let the steam fly where it will land. something human and real about that moment.

I had heard that the world is very interested in sex, and in yeshiva, I wasn't why, but now I was hooked. I knew that it was really important to get some. Now, I wanted it with a woman. JC and I spent one more evening together at a later point. He gestured, pushing my head towards his penis. I had never heard of anyone do that to another human being. It seemed disgusting to me. I surely didn't want to do that to a man. I realized at that moment that that is what would give him pleasure and I simply could not to that for him. I felt bad, since he had given me so much pleasure. At that moment I learned that sex was not just about me and that If I wanted to participate in these kinds of recreations, I'd need to know how to give pleasure as well. I didn't realize, that at least for me, since I had no male attraction, it would be useless attempting to get myself to give him pleasure.

Now I needed to find a woman, who would be willing to do the same thing with me. It was a nice safe start but that would not to it in the long run.

Homeless in LA

I can't say that I had given much thought to life. It only got my attention when things got real bad. They had been wanting to knock down our building for a while now. I had been living with Gavi for two years. He had been my guide through some very rough times and although, I had been paying him rent, it had been my assumption that he would make sure I had a place to live if push came to shove. Well, now things had been pushing us out the door. The landlord was serious. Gavi, decided to move out. His new place had no room for me. I was devastated. I didn't have the kind of money to rent my own place. I just didn't care about anything anymore. I didn't have the job as the Rebbe. I was working at a restaurant. So many things had fallen apart so fast, that I didn't have the time, to think about who I was and what i was going to do now, so I just let things be. For a while, as they took our building apart, I still went back at night to sleep there. The shower was still working, and my phone was still connected. (I had no cell) sometimes other (homeless) people would share the space with me. I'd come back at night and see that someone else was there. Once I came to the bathroom and saw that someone had taken a huge dump in the toilet. Yes, a little weird, but such was life. Then the walls of the building came down. Only the wooden frame remained. I still slept there. Where else would I go. I took my sleeping bag, and a piece of metal, to keep next to my bed, just in case I'd get an unwelcomed visitor. I didn't know it back then, but looking back, there was something about me that actually liked the wandering life. Freedom and subjection to the natural course, rhythm of every day, not knowing what the next day would bring.

Then the building was gone,great big open field, into my Acura I went. that was my new home. Was far less comfortable than when I slept in my toyota. Acuras were not meant to sleep in. MY Toyota back seat went back to form a comfortable expansive bed, as it joined with the large open trunk area. The accura had nothing. The front seat barely went back. I had to sleep in it, in a contorted position, dumping part of my body into the backseat area, buffering the lacking spaces with pillows and other mechanisms. It was really uncomfortable.Going to the bathroom in the middle of the night was an adventure as you can imagine, and taking cold showers at the beach at night kept me clean.

When I'd go somewhere for shabbos, that was the moment when I had some peace, that feeling of belonging. Inside I wished to be my own person,have my own place, be my own person. I simply didn't know how. I was working and going to school and I simply didn't know how to get the house thing together, and didn't have the motivation. It was all backwards. One day, i went to this place where they were giving out food, and this dude, who's girlfriend had just ran away with his car and walet (you can imagine how sober he was) told me that there was someone on the beach who was renting out spots in a house for cheap. Sounded affordable. I heard there were women. I was in.

Perfect timing. The rains had been coming and it was getting cold. I had been yearing for some warmth. I walked into the house and it was quite an experience. Honesty I had never lived, and been in such close quarters with so many non Jews and such a diverse crowd. Some came from England, Taiwan, Mexico, on drugs, off drugs (even thought at the time I didn't quit know about drugs) long hair, mustaches, stupid people, smart people. The weirdest people, not to exclude myself from the colorful. I can't say that I felt at home, but at least it was warm, and for now this would be home.

I will never forget that first night. I waited on line for the bathroom (so that I could take a shower) It had been so long since i was in a normal bathroom. I was so excited. The floors of the hall had nice thick carpeting. The house had about 20 to 25 people. Even my house when I was young didn't have such thick carpeting. This was a real house, and had a really good feeling about it. I hadn't had this in quite a while. The bathroom, when I finally got in, was also quite impressionable, surrounded by gorgeous white tiling and mirrors. It was exquisite. Then came the best part. The shower. I reveled in the glorious feeling of the hot water pouring all over my body. I was so alive at that moment. I hadn't had a hot shower in a long time. I had been taking showers in the dark, at night, on the beach, with sand under my feet. Now, i was in a bright, clean bathroom, and had an infinite amount of hot water pouring down on me. could life get any better?

Radical turn of events, and a change of heart.

I know this will sound crazy, and it's painful to imagine how deep I got myself. I was called down to my principal's office. I had intended to negotiate a higher salary for next year, mean while, he told me that he was phasing out my special needs department and there wouldn't be a job for me next year. He said that he was open to using me as a substitute. Of course, I am shocked at myself that despite how angry I was at myself for finding myself in the role of a Rebbe, I still was considering working there the following year. As soon, as I heard him say that I had no job next year, I breathed a sigh of relief, I felt so good inside, I would no longer need to fake and pretend.

I got a job around the corner from my school at a kosher restaurant. To be honest, I was angry for a while. I still had a lot of pride in my jewish mind, the mind that had conquered so much gemara, the mind that had seen itself as so smart,and so much better than everyone else. I had been a rebbe, at least I had some respect, and now I was a "nobody" just a simple person working in a restaurant and picking up french fries off the floor, and loading snapples into the refrigerator. Surprising as it may seems something about this new job seemed very right. I never imagined that it could be this way, but here it was, and it seemed more than ok, I really liked it. I was wondering if I was allowed to love this this much. How can this be possible? They had always told us that work was bad and it seemed like something that I should better stay away from. There was nothing glamorous about it. I wasn't spreading yiddishkeit, but still I felt like I was doing something really good. How could I be feeling this good, doing something this dumb.

Little did I know that for my kind of mind, I actually benefited from this kind of job. It was great. I blossomed more at that job than I did in all those shukel-filled years of bending over the gemara. In this job, I had to deal with real people, and real problems.

It's true, there were some awkward and painful moments. My restaurant was right around the corner from the school I used to teach in. I used to wear a suit and tie, now I was wearing a hawaian shirt and jeans. I used to be someone who they asked advice of and now they were asking me for another order of french fries. I used to have others cleaning the floor, now it was me. Still I must admit that I got so much inner reward from feeling that I was doing something that was real, that it made it all worth while. I felt honest. For once in my life, I was being really me. I never knew that being real could feel so good. I knew now, with every fiber in my body that i was living my truth, and that was a great reward.

Now I know why people love sex

I had been at the house for a while now. I had my little life. It was the first time that I was truly on my own. I was exhausted and tired and confused. I had come to LA for companionship. I had come because I wanted sex, and now I was really angry. Where was my sex? Why hadn't I had sex yet? There were all these woman running around but I didn't seem to know how to get any. Was I awkward? Was there something wrong with me? I felt that there was. For some reason, I simply didn't see myself having sex. I wanted it, but there was something missing in the human connection department. I wanted pleasure, but I don't think that my mind saw it as a means to connect with other people. I was scared, and tired, and hiding deep inside, and I yearned most to know me. That was my true desire. I couldn't honestly say that I wanted to get to know another person.

There came this one Saturday night, and I had had it. I just needed to get out of my mind, and out of my house. I thought about the whole city and thought to myself, "there has got to be someone in this city that I could hang out with". I decided to park my car, and head to Ocean Avenue. There were some bars, and people walking around, I figured, if anything was going to happen, that would be a good place to start.

I walked into a drum shop. I had never done this before. It must have been about 8:00 at night and I started drumming on one of the drums. I was semi enjoying myself but looking back, I can tell that, inside, I was dying to have sex, or some kind of close connection with another person. I wanted to know that I was human. I needed to know that I was whole, that I was human , that I could get close to another person. I was aching to know that my body could be touched by another and have another touch it.

As my luck would have it. In came JC. he was a man I had met a couple years earlier. H was good looking and in the gym, he had once given me a very warm hug. I did not know it at the time, of the hug, but looking back, it was probably the kind of hug a gay man gives to another person he is interested in. I knew nothing of hugs, and gayness. I just knew that I really appreciated that hug. I remember it felt so good to be held that close. I needed it and I remembered it, but at the time, I knew nothing of what a person might do with a hug or where it could lead. I just knew that it felt good.


He and his definitely gay friend Patrick, had come into the store together. Somehow we all got to talking. I was excited by the conversation and had no idea where it may lead. I just knew that I had been distant from any kind of friendship that felt close and warm. I simply never had it and so I had no idea what I was missing. I had come to LA, and looking back, I had spent most of my energy just trying to survive, and make sense of the disaster that I had just been through. I knew that I was living in a beautiful place with all kinds of strange weird and different people. I knew that somehow, I fit in because I felt more relaxed being myself, but I surely did not know enough about myself to venture out and have a friend. Now, I was chatting with these two fellows and they invited me back to their home. That was exciting since, I don't think I had ever been invited anywhere (except for a shabbos meal or something.............or a bris, but then again, you're not supposed to be invited so does it count?)


As soon as I walked into their house, I had a really good feeling about being there. There where delicious tantalizing smells of oils and incense. The living room was a spacious and cozy area where people just did whatever, no furniture just lying down and relaxing kinds of spaces. Patrick was a masseuse. I didn't even know what that was at that time. I didn't even know that people were paid to massage other people's bodies. I surely didn't know that they were paid to do his kind of massage, which included a very unique event.


My head had been, was (and still is sometimes) in the clouds and then, it would take ropes of iron to bring it down to this planet and teach it some things about the way this world worked and didn't. I noticed that there was a lot of touch going on. As people just sat chatting and watching TV, they would touch each other, just gentle petting and soothing. I was amazed that this was considered normal. It seemed so natural to them. I felt so awkward and yet, I yearned for what they had. Why couldn't I do this too? I yearned to feel that comfortable with my body. It seemed like such a natural and real experience and right to be able and feel comfortable touching another's body. After all, I had hands and legs and I wanted to use them. Somehow, I knew intuitively that there was so much that could be told and shared through simple touch. I wanted to have that too, but somehow I knew that that destiny was not mine. I didn't know why and I wondered how it could be this way, but I knew that my body was not meant to touch and be touched. I had never had that experience and the distance made the possibility and impossibility. I had been so far from the world of touch that my mind, body, did not really know that it existed, but yearned for it with every fiber, somehow knowing that it was lacking something so raw and essential to being human.

No. No!! Don't!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (2)

I still can't believe that the gut knows so much and how aware it is,of what is good for it, and what it wants. Although, I was suffering deeply inside, I must admit that I was really proud of myself and the action I was taking despite how scare and immature I was. I knew this principal from NY. He had moved to LA and become the Principal of a school. I called him up and asked him if they needed any Rabbeim for the next year. I knew that I was scared to be a Rebbe. It terrified me to be in front of all these kids and be obliged to keep them in order, focused, and learning, but still knew nothing else. I knew that I had a talent for loving kids, and caring for them, so what else could I do? In my mind, this was the absolute highest aspiration I could hope for. I had this idea that, if I would be a Rebbe, and get good at it, all my suffering would go away. At that time I believed the idea that all I needed to do was do all the things that I was afraid of doing and then I would be free. In my reading I had encountered this idea and it spoke true to me. I felt that the source of my suffering was the fact that there were so many things that I had dreamed of doing that I was too afraid to do, and all those moments of hesitation had piled up until they looked at me like angry demons demanding that I love them and care for them , and adhere, to their wishes. This seemed to make sense because the more I listened and the more I did what it had dictated, the better I felt, so hear too, I hoped and believed that since, I had always wanted to be a Rebbe, and was always too afraid to do it (especially after that first year) I figured that if I could conquer this mountain, I will have it made. My awkwardness, and sadness and fear will just disappear because I would have conquered my greatest fear.

The moment my Principal told me that I had the job, I was excited. I had won. I was so proud of myself. I had finally learned how to dress for success and talk with self respect, none of which I had learned as a yeshiva bachur 7 years earlier, but then he said one more thing which cast an ugly shadow over the entire year. "Do you have Semicha?" he asked me. "No" I said. "OK, so I'm giving you semicha" was his reply. That was his way of saying that he wanted me to be called Rabbi, instead of Mr or anything else. I must admit that, at that moment, something hurt so deeply inside. I felt a cry shout out. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" "Tell him, that you refuse to take the job if you will be called Rabbi" I remembered that "Mr" Avi shulman was a Rebbe for 25 years and refused to be called Rabbi. I failed. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I wasn't strong enough to risk giving up a good job for the principle that I held so dearly.

I hated Rabbis. I didn't know why. I just knew that the last thing I wanted was to be one. Then why was I here? I had hoped that I could just be a person, "a Mr" who taught Hebrew, "perhaps" I thought, that would make it more bearable, to view myself as just a person who taught Hebrew" but the truth is that my hatred for anything Jewish was so deep that, there was no self talk that I could possibly perform that would alleviate the adamant stand that I had against any subject Jewish. I had no choice. I simply did not know myself well enough to know how much I didn't belong in that position. That doesn't mean that I did a bad Job. It just means that I felt like I had done something against my true inner voice. I was not living in alignment with who I really was and I felt it every day. I never, for a moment, felt like a Rabbi. I felt like an angry teen-ager, a hurt boy, a lost soul, looking for an answer but pretending he had one, underneath a suit and tie, a beard, and the glasses that separated me from looking into the eyes of the people around me and being honest about who I really am. that would take much more strength and much more time.

No. No! Don't !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

During this period of time, I had been pondering and reading, absorbing any information I could get my hands on that would help me understand what was going on in me, why I was so sad, numb, angry. As soon as I realized what was going on, I was immediately excited to engage it. Knowing that I had a problem, gave me hope that I could solve it. Now I had hope, now I had the hope that I would eventually have life. I wanted to breath the same air that others did. I wanted to know what it was like to live. I wanted to have it so badly. I knew that I could.


I read that one should go for their dreams. I had never heard about dreams before, I only heard about suffering. the word dream made me happy. All I needed to do was to figure out my dream, and then all would be alright. I knew that the only issue I had, the source of my pain was the fact that I had suffocated my dream. All I needed to do was be honest. "what was my dream?" what did I really want. If I could admit this, then all would be OK. I pondered this for months on end. What did I really want. I decided that I really wanted to be a Rebbe. I know you may be surprised to hear this, but that was my best answer. I knew that I cared about kids. I knew that I was good at learning Torah. I could not imagine having a life without Torah, so despite the fact that I had so many unresolved feelings about Judaism. I had my eyes on becoming a Rebbe.

It was deeper than that. From the books I had read, they spoke about conquering ones fears and "going right for it" and after self examination, I came to the conclusion that what i really wanted to do was to be an eighth grade Rebbe. I imagined that within my sphere of aspirations, that was the highest aspiration and the biggest fears. I had been afraid to teach. From my experience, the Rabbeim (especially the awkward, untrained and unseasoned, like the one I would be), were made fun of, and were given a really tough time. I hated the thought of being in that position. I wanted to be liked. I wanted to help kids. I absolutely dreaded the thought of being a Rebbe, but I didn't know what else I could do. Also, good parts of me told me that I would develop into a talented Rebbe. Looking back, I am shocked and scared by the fact that all of my thoughts, and considerations concerning being a Rebbe, were born solely out of the fact, or mostly out of the fact, that I knew nothing else. I wish I would have been in a position to have known, to have chosen to have evaluated many different paths. I knew only one thing to do, and that's what it would have to be.

I can't believe this is happening! (I hate my life)

It's difficult to describe the actions of someone as disoriented, and confused as I was. It was almost succos. I had just landed on this new planet, LA. I had been a Rebbe, and in my mind, I loved to give, and the only way I knew how was to teach Torah. Of course, if I knew to be aware of my true feelings, I would have wished an entirely different life with an entirely different destiny. I was just a shell of a person, with barely any knowledge of who I am and what had happened to me.

That shabbos something very scary and awkward happened. I had told one of the Rabbis that I can help with one of their pirchei groups. I had actually built a special chart to give kids lots of fun in answering questions, and I had brought it from New York because I knew it may come in handy.

This particular group was in a families home. The Rabbi had arranged for me to tell a story and lead the group that Shabbos afternoon. I had recently gotten a small, red kipa seruga that I was using. I felt it was more appropriate, for who I was and my level of practice. The father of the home, must have grasped that there was something incongruous about me, knowing that I had a rich yeshiva education, and that I had just showed up in LA with this little red kipa. In his most diplomatic way possible, he basically asked me to leave because he was afraid that I would have a bad influence on his children. He made that pretty clear.

I was really hurt by that. I had not been away or "off" long enought to know what the ramifications might be. I was still technically observant but I was angry and confused. I had no idea who I really was. As far as I knew, I was a talmid chacham, who had a lot of torah in him, and who loved torah and wanted to help others learn it. I had a lot of anger and confusion but as far as I was conderned, that was just a small blemish on a future leader of the generation. I had a lot of respect for how hard I had worked, and how much I had learned. I felt the glory and prestige that it gave me, just by the very fact of how much I had challenged my mind. I felt proud and maybe even a little arrogant, and now this man had the audacity to ask me to leave his home because I may have a bad influence on his chilren.


Of course, on paper, I couldn't really blame him. I didn't intend on having a bad influence, but perhaps the children may get the wrong message. Still, that was a real blow because I was able to tell that there was no way that I could escape my destiny. Somehow, I would have to decide who I am, get rid of the past, go back to it or become something else. For now, it seemed like it would be an endless labyrinth of suffering until I would, could figure out, who exacty I was, what was there in me. What was real? what was fake? what would stay and what would go? what did I truly believe, and which beliefs had been imposed on me from the outside. I so wished that this process could be over already.

I had always hated to think, and now I dispised it more than ever. You mean that I have to actually analyze what I believe? How should I know? How can I be entrusted to make such a bold and daring decision?