Israeli boys. They think they can say anything and get away
with it, don’t they?
Erez seemed like he was all that and a loaf of challah until
he opened his mouth. At 6’2 he met all
of my necessary standards: at least 3 inches taller than me. That warm, magical
July night, I realized I needed to develop higher standards.
Have you ever met someone and felt like they made you and
everyone else around you uncomfortable? This was my night at its most basic
description.
Let’s just start this date from the very beginning, he tried
to kiss me hello. To quote my best friend, “Boy, you don’t know me like that!” (I
didn’t say this, but I had the urge to go wash my face.) We were seated, and
then my uncomfortable evening unfolded.
Ordering Process: I don’t care what anyone says. A boy should
always order before the girl so the girl knows what she can order. Before
ordering he made me think he was only getting one roll, (We had sushi) and so I
ordered one salmon avocado. He ordered three rolls. To say I was disappointed
with my order is an understatement. I was not only disappointed, but I was
hungry.
After my one roll was delivered to the table and his three
sat beautifully in front of him, he told me I could have some of his…I’m not
saying I am super clean, but I am not going to eat off of someone’s plate that
I don’t even know. That’s intimate, and this was a first date.
The Conversation:
What do you think the most inappropriate conversation topics are on a first
date? I’m sure they were all discussed that evening. To set up the scene for
you: I sat up straight in my chair, and he leaned across the table. Every time
he leaned closer, my chair scooted a little bit further back. (By the end of
the night, I was about 4 blocks away.)
Our first conversation topic was alcohol and drugs. It went
a little something like this:
Erez: So, eh, do you, eh, like to drink?
Me: I am 22 and fresh out of college. It’s kind of my age
group’s thing. How about yourself?
Erez: Yeah, I don’t. You see, eh, I don’t need it to have
fun. I can go to the club by myself and enjoy without. Eh, you know?
Me: I don’t need it to have fun, either; it just speeds up
the process. (Clearly I am trying to joke.)
Erez: Do you, eh, do drugs ever?
Me: What?!?
Who asks that? This was not as far out as our next
conversation topic of not being an Israeli woman or a lesbian:
Erez: Yeah, I don’t think I’ll ever end up with and Israeli
woman. Eh, you know they are all…B*tches.
(Long Pause)
Me: I don’t think I’ll end up with an Israeli woman, either.
They aren’t really my type.
Erez: Ah, but what about an American woman?
Me: They aren’t really my type, either.
Seriously, what? Did he just ask me if I ever fancied myself
a lesbian? (No offense, lesbians are cool. I’m just into Jewish men, hence the
blog.) I was just trying to make a joke over an inappropriate first date
comment.
At this point in time I looked to the table sitting a few
inches beside us, and their faces resembled partial horrific expressions and
the other part sympathy to my situation.
The Goodbye: I’m
not great with signals. I don’t really know if I am putting them out or not.
But in this instance, I know I was definitely, 100% not putting them out. When
I suggested we get the check and offered to pay my half, he had a look of
expectancy in his eyes. (The only thing he should have been expecting is to pay
for my one $7.25 roll.)
We exited the restaurant, and he went in for the kiss. I
adjusted to the side hug, which I thought was a safe bet. Apparently, his eyes
were already closed, and I felt a bite on my ear. (The reaction you are having
right now was much like mine.) I felt awkward and ran out in the rain to the subway
as fast as I could.
When he asked for a second date, he spelled my name wrong. I
didn’t respond. Instead, I scurried away on my search for an NJB…or just an NB.
(This is a lot harder than the movies make it seem.)
