9: Prague Diary

We got back to the hotel I flung off my clothes and lay naked on the bed glowering at myself and noticing every spare inch of flesh, every mark, every scar and every blemish. I’ve always hated my appearance but it’s a long time since I’ve had a negativity fit as bad as that one. Because I was lying naked on the bed and because we’d made love at that time every afternoon, Russ saw that as an invitation. The man has no idea. He made advances and although his touch turned me on, I was so down on myself that I shrugged him away. I couldn’t get the thought of him with skinny lap dancers out of my head. He might be touching me, but I felt that he was getting turned on with thoughts of them.

His next comment didn’t do him any favours, either. ‘Well, if you’re not up for it, do you mind if I sort myself out because I’m as horny as hell.’ So he was going to lie next to me waking himself stupid and thinking about the girls from last night, was he— over my dead fat body.

“Yes, I do bloody mind. I find it fucking offensive.”

That confused him. I’ve always been turned on by watching him masturbate. It’s one of my things; I love a man with a hard on. On the three occasions that I’ve ever refused him sex he’s asked if he can ‘sort himself out’ and within minutes I’ve been up for playing footsie. It pisses me off though because when I’ve refused him he won’t let it drop and he pesters me for sex. When I’ve wanted to and he’s too tired, he adopts his hurt little boy voice and whimpers pathetically, ‘I’m a little bit tired, sorry,' and believe me, when he’s pathetic and wet, it’s a guaranteed turn off.

When I brought this up and threw it back him he came up with a very valid point in his defence. He reminded me of all the times that I’m not done after he’s come. I almost always orgasm when he does I often want more. He never refuses me and is very obliging. I felt like bitch but couldn’t help myself.

I tried to tell him how I felt. I said that being around so many skinny women and not even being able to buy clothes because I’m too big had crashed my confidence. I told him that I hated the fact that he’d gone lap dancing. And I said that I couldn’t get it out of my head that while he’s with me he’s constantly fantasising about other women. I wanted a bit of reassurance. I wanted to hear him say that I’m all right and that he loves me regardless of how I look. I wanted him to say that I’m better than any lap dancing beauty because I’m real, here for him and loyal to him.

What he actually said was.

‘Hell, Jane, stop feeling sorry for yourself. There are people far worse off than you. Some people are dying and you go on about the way you look. Put things into perspective.’
Well thanks Russ that helped. He wasn’t finished, ‘And when you moan about your size it deflates me and brings me down. You’ve been horrible to me all day and all I’ve done is try to please you.’

That told me. I turned away from him and for half an hour we lay in stony silence, each feeling aggrieved and unhappy. After awhile I felt his fingers stroking my back but I was too angry to turn to him. I shrugged him off.

He sighed, he didn’t sound angry now just hurt and fed up. ‘Oh, I’m going for a bath’

He went and I lay there torturing myself with thoughts of him relaxing in the bubbles and masturbating as he thought of beautiful, slim women. I was aroused and at the same time annoyed. I wanted to go to him. I knew that he wouldn’t turn me away or reject me the way I had just done to him. I knew that if I went in and kissed him our argument would all be over and we’d be back on track—but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was convinced that he doesn’t want me. How could he when he went to a club to look at other naked women, slim, beautiful women.

I just lay there feeling hurt and sorry for myself.

We’d both brought special going out clothes with us that we hadn’t worn yet. That night we’d planned to go to the posh restaurant at the top of the hill by the castle. We were going to dress up for it and have a long, romantic meal.

Russ came out of the bathroom looking less horny than when he’d gone in. He dried himself and began to dress.

Last year, after he had split up with his last girlfriend, he still went on holiday with her because it was all booked and paid for. They shared a room. I know that Russ still had very strong feelings for her and sleeping with her while not being able to touch her on that holiday drove him nuts. He told me that he used to go into the bathroom to masturbate. I wondered if this reminded him of that time. Then, being the screwed up fool that I am, I took the thought one step further and got it into my stupid head that not only was he wanking over thoughts of lap dancers but he was also lying in the bath fantasizing about his ex-girlfriend.

I was hurt and jealous but in my head I knew that I could have gone into him at any point and he’d have been really happy to see me. He’s told me that she never really liked sex, not with him anyway. Their sex life was poor whereas ours has always been active.

He dressed and got ready to go out. He wore black trousers and a brown shirt and looked fantastic. His skin was turning brown and his hair was long and curly. He looked great. He’s small and fit with a good body. It makes me feel insecure and not good enough for him.

He smiled warmly trying to break the tension between us, “Well, do I look okay?”

I gave him a weak smile back and told him truthfully, ‘You look great.’ I saw him relax. He hates fighting and just wanted it to be over. I was giving him compliments, things must be okay. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

‘Right then, are you going to get ready so that we can get away?’

‘I’m not going anywhere.’

‘What? Oh Come on Jane, snap out of it.’

‘No, you go ahead without me. I only go on and on and on and bring you down. You’ll have a much better time without me tagging along cramping your style.’

‘But I want to be with you.’

‘Bollocks! You had a great time without me last night. Go back to your lap dancing girls and enjoy yourself. I’ll just lie here and wallow in my self pity `cause, according to you, I’m good at that.’

‘You said it. Right I’m going then. I’ll go and see what this place is like and then come back in half an hour to see if you’ve changed your mind.’

‘Don’t bother, stay out all night like you did last night. I want to be on my own.’

He left and I was torn between anger, worry and self pity. We’d only had two arguments in all the time we’ve been together. Russ is very easy going, he’s always positive about everything and lets me have my own way. Normally, we have nothing to fight about. This was probably the worst fight we’d had and I didn’t blame him storming out and I didn’t expect to see him again until the early hours of the morning.

I stormed off into the bathroom for a bath. Sod him. I didn’t care how many floosies he let squirm all over him.

The bathroom doesn’t have a window. The lights only work when the door card is inserted. Russ had taken the key with him, another indication that he wasn’t coming back any time soon. I had a bath in total blackness and seethed.

I got out of the bath, wrapped myself in the hotel’s white towelling dressing gown, at least that fit me, and I went into the bedroom to prepare for a long, lonely night on my own.

Russ was lying on the bed; I hadn’t heard him come in. I was so happy to see him but even then I couldn’t let it show.

‘I’ve bought you something,’ he said.

He handed me a small package and I unwrapped a lovely, red enamel necklace. I’d been a complete bitch with him and instead of leaving me to fester in my own venom he’d gone off to buy me a present.

‘I’m so sorry I upset you,’ he continued. ‘I love you and only want to make you happy.’ If he’d wanted to go to a lap dancing club so badly he could have been off. He had the perfect excuse, I’d actually told him to go, pushed him to it. I did everything bar paying his entrance fee. He didn’t want to be there. He hated us fighting but still wanted to spend the night with me even if it meant staying in and lying on the bed, hungry and in bitter silence.

I thanked him for the necklace and wanted to kiss him but still I was too stubborn to do it. When I lay beside him, I turned towards him not away from him. I looked at him instead of staring at the wall.

When he came towards me to kiss me I met him halfway and we kissed with more passion than we have since the beginning of our relationship. I knew that he was with me in body and mind. His hands were roaming all over my dressing gown and I had him stripped in about ten seconds without once taking my mouth away from his. Afterwards I lay back on the pillows grinning like a satisfied cat. I was hungry.
At the mention of food it set him off fantasizing about his other favourite subject. ‘I’m starving, can I take you out to eat and make you feel special?

With a complete change of attitude I bathed again and then tried on the hateful purple pants. With high heeled shoes and the right top, they looked fantastic, well as good as anything possibly could on me, anyway. Russ said that he’d liked them all along. They are unusual and like nothing I’ve seen in England with swirly, raised purple patterns. With my perception altered I could see that they were flattering to my shape and that they’re meant to hug the legs at the top. Now I couldn’t wait to wear them back home in England. Russ had been right to push me into buying them and knew better than I knew myself what my taste is in clothing.

I didn’t want to wear them that night though because it was dress up night. I wore a long red velvet cocktail dress—tres posh—a white bolero jacket and black stilettos with my new necklace. I didn’t feel good, but I’d done the best with what I had and was determined to have a good night, and more importantly to give Russ a good time because I’d instigated so much bad feeling between us.