Boy vey!

“Please. Please can I just touch it for a while?” He pleaded.

“No! I don’t even know you!” I reply. 

“Ok. I’ll give you MY foot first to make it a fair exchange.” 

Before I knew it, this 6.2ft man had his Paul Smith-clad foot in my hand. I had no option but to marvel at his chutzpah. 

I slipped my shoe off. I can safely assume he liked my foot. He grabbed my face and kissed me.

(Note: my nail polish was called “My Chihuahua Bites”. True story.)

Hours of chatting later and I find out this crazy, lovely, sexy man is Jewish. “What! I had no idea!” I exclaimed….He wasn’t wearing a yarmulke and he wasn’t naked so I couldn’t exactly tell.

“Well that’s terrible, don’t you know all Jewish men are intelligent, funny, successful, direct??” He says.

Add modest!

I have dated a Jewish guy before, sure. He wasn’t a very nice person, and sadly he lived up to a lot of the unfortunate, negative preconceptions us Gentiles have. I certainly didn’t stick around to glean any knowledge over a bowl of matzo ball soup.

“Will your mama like me?” I ask. “I already own a lot of leopard print and jewellery. I used to be a chef. And! I platz for kosher wine” I offer.

“My mother will love you. She’s gay.” He replies.

Great, halfway there, I think.

“You’d have to stop eating bacon.”

WHAT? Mon dieu, no ways, no such thing would be possible.

“Also, Judaism requires a high level of admin. You’d need to free up a lot of your time for me.”

Erm. Nope. I have enough of a hard time remembering to schedule dentist appointments. If its between work, gym, partying, reading, catnaps and Facebook- maybe. If you’re lucky.

So far, so mazel tov.

We speak about religion a lot and love it. Mainly because my ignorance is endearing to him, and he loves to educate me on the generalisations.

In fact, today’s text message:

“Babe did you know one of the biggest fallacies about Jewish men is that we’re stingy and materialistic? Not so. We only strive for financial success because we’re insecure about our circumcision and we’re trying to save up enough money to buy back from the mohel what we lost.”

 

(Yes, I had to Google “mohel” too.)

Hmmm…. interesting!

A Man in Uniform…

He’d just come back from London. It was 1998. He had a on a pair of Diesel Zathan’s, Nike Air Max, his Carharrt hoodie, Aigner fragrance he found in Venice, and a designer Toni & Guy haircut.

 This was my metrosexual Belgian born boyfriend and I on our 3^rd date. My friends all teased me about his well-groomed coiffness.

Quiet and reserved, I had no idea if this man was still “in the wardrobe”.

And then we were driving, in his new leather seated BMW. It was still in the days when I drove (long long ago). We were on the way into the wild, for a friends wedding.

When… I carelessly drove over piece of jagged metal.

He, calm as a cucumber, said “That’s ok. I think I know what to do.”

Within minutes, my boyfriend went from a 90’s heroin chic looking model to ripsnorting hetero male.

“Oh my God I’m so sorry, is the tyre ok?”

“Ah yes, no problem. Luckily the army prepared me well”, he said.

We dated for 10 years. He is the most metrosexual man on Earth, I can be certain. He also knows how plugs from any continent work, other causes urine is useful for, how to use a tourniquet and how to stop a car whose brakes have failed.

Handy.

I’m a South African woman in her 30’s, so that means I am familiar with my male family’s war stories, badges of honour, uniforms in storage and opinions on compulsory military service.

 

I’m all for it.

 

In fact, I should’ve been the face behind those WE WANT YOU! propaganda adverts.

I’m only half joking.

If I neatly and politely smoosh all my dating experiences into 2 categories, there’d be A) men who’ve served in the military and B) men who have not.

I haven’t dated nearly enough men younger than me (there’s still time) to pass fair judgement (is there ever a time to pass fair judgement?) but I have to concede there are some glaringly obvious differences:

1) Men who’ve “served” know how to wash and iron their clothes.

2) They also completely recognise the value of a can of baked beans, firewood, running water and folk music.

3) They are less arrogant.

4) They understand being a graphic designer holds no purpose in Real Life.

5) They don’t call in sick when their nose is running.

The rest is on a need-to-know basis.

….And AGAIN.

The Beards Made Me Do It…. Again.

The Beards Made Me Do It

“When a woman marries again, it is because she detested her first husband. When a man marries again, it is because he adored his first wife. Women try their luck; men risk theirs.”

— from The Picture of Dorian Grey, by Oscar Wilde