He pushed up an imaginary pair of glasses. I think he was surprised when his hand touched the bridge of his nose, and nothing else. He probably just got contacts, no other logical explanation other than insanity, and he seemed normal enough so far.
So far, key word I had found during dating. Everything was fine, ok, normal – so far. And then in every case “so far” would pass, and I’d be left disappointed. I’ve been dating for five years and I have never had my heart broken yet, I say that out of incredulity, not pride. Is there something wrong with me, or just with the guys I’ve dated that I’ve never been hurt, only disappointed when I realized that this guy, whatever number he was just expired his “so far” card. And I’d find them to be either immature, boring, shallow, a pathological liar, an idiot, a narcissist, very often a combination package, and on special occasions, all of the above.
“Have you been to Israel?” he asked. I twirled the straw in my seltzer, and leaned forward – positive body language.
“Yes, many times. I have cousins living there, and my family used to spend out summers there.” He looked surprised, his eyes opened wider.
“That’s really nice,” he commented. “So you must have an opinion on the country, being there so often.” My straw got another twirl. This was boring. Israel’s boring. He’s boring. I want to go home.
“Well, I try to keep politics aside, and just enjoy the experience.” Big smile, some gum, sparkling teeth: Try another topic loser.
He glanced around the room, eyes darting to find something to talk about.
“I was recently in Israel, had a very different experience than I ever had before.”
Still on Israel? He’s talking about himself without my prompting, he must be really desperate for conversation. I was supposed to ask now what was different. I don’t care though, and he’s boring, so it’s probably some blah inspiring story about nothing.
“Oh,” I said. That was enough to get him going for a half hour about every detail of his trip, where he davened maariv, and who actually makes the best laffa. A half hour was all we needed, he hit the two and half hour mark, the ride home was 25 minutes, it would be a three hour date, no explanations necessary, shalom al yisroel.
“I’m sorry,” and she seemed sincere. “But he didn’t think it would go anywhere.”
“It’s ok,” I reassured her.
“You’re still a wonderful girl, I don’t think any less of you” What? What’s that supposed to mean, where’s that coming from, what did he say about me?
“Oh.” Was emitted on my end. There was a pause of consideration from her.
“Maybe if you weren’t so centered on your own needs and entertainment.” her voice picked up speed, “Y’know, be mature, have some depth, and sincere reaction —”
I hung up on her.
Doesn’t every girl aspire for more than she is herself?