The Israeli: Part 1

My dad’s advice is to go on as many dates as possible.  That’s a great idea, but men aren’t really knocking my door down.  I am trying.  All set-ups are welcome...  Some other sage wisdom from my dad is:  even if I don’t like the guy I am going on a date with one evening, there are plenty of others to bring home.  Nice.  If you know my father, this is not surprising advice.  Also, it is very true, go dad!  Unfortunately I am not the type to pick up guys in bars (ok, I know this is a lie).  I am not that type anymore.  At least not yet.

Name: Vespa 

Age:35

Met:  This is good…

I was on my way to work one Friday, I was dressed nice because parents were going to be in the classroom.  I had to stop at Fairway to buy vegetables to make fried dumplings with students.  (We are big pushers of fried food and candy).  While crossing Broadway a guy on a Vespa was motioning to me to stop, he was pointing to my neck.  I was wearing a large gold necklace that I think is very cool.  Not everyone agrees with me on this point, it is very large and very gold- but Vespa guy liked it.  He says “hello, I had to stop you, you are so cute”

Me: “Thank you, that is so flattering”

Vespa: “Are you Jewish?”

Me: “Uuuh, yes”

Vespa: “Do you speak Hebrew?”

Me:  “No, are you from Israel?”  He has a heavy heavy accent.

Vespa: “yes, I have seen you before, I am your neighbor”

Me: “Where do you live?  I live on xx Street.”  I do not know what possessed me to tell this strange man exactly where I live.  I realized how dumb that was.  Sorry mom.

Vespa: “I live on xx Street (names a street 2 blocks from me.  I later learned he completely lied about this and lives 80 blocks north of me.  He says he lied because he though it sounded better, loser.)  “I know I have seen you.  I had to stop you.  I couldn’t let you get away.  When can I see you again?”

Me: “I don’t know, you tell me.” 

Vespa:  “Can I get your card?”

Me: “I’m a xxxxx, I don’t have a card.  I work right around here.”  I know, again I gave personal information to a strange Israeli man with stalker tendencies.

Vespa: “Will you give me your number? Or are you shy?”

Me: I gave him my number…

Honestly, I was in the best mood for the rest of the day.  I was stopped on the street because a guy thought I was cute.  Who cares if it was a little creepy and my mom, grandmother (who left multiple messages fro me to NOT go out with him), grandfather (who instructed my grandmother to leave said messages, stating that Israeli men are too assertive –side note, my grandfather is in fact, also Israeli), therapist, and friends were skeptical and said avoid, avoid, avoid.  I was smiling.  We talked on the phone and texted a few times. 

Date 1: Riverwalk (this is not a real place, it is where he told me we were going.)  When I asked what it was, he said I ask too many questions and want to know too much too soon.  Strange response, but I was game.

He called me to say he would pick me up on the corner.  I walked down, expecting him to be waiting there.  He was.  In an old, used Porche.  I leaned in and said “I am not getting in the car with you.  You are a stranger, this isn’t safe and I don’t want to be kidnapped.”  He promised he wouldn’t kidnap me and said he was very safe.  I told him I had mace and my friends were tracking me by GPS on my phone (neither of which were true.)  I got in the car.  He drove to Riverside Park and 96 Street.  I learned that he was a car broker, he likes Jewish teachers, he does not kidnap people, and he wears tzitzit (pronounced seet seet.  They are the long strings that uber-religious Jews wear under their clothing.)

We sat on a bench in the park and he took some grapes and a bag of dates and nuts out of his BACKPACK for snack.  This was both thoughtful, and economical.  I commented that it was very Israeli for him to travel with dates.  I am not a big date eater, but it must be noted that they are not an easy food to eat, especially on a date (dates on a date yo).  There is a pit that you have to eat around and then throw it out.  Not hot.

We had a lot to talk about.  He was interested in my job, where I was from, my dog, my religious upbringing.  He is an extremely observant Jew.  He goes to synagogue every day; he calls it the beit Knesset.  He celebrates Shabbat, spending the entire day at the beit Knesset.  He actually doesn’t work at all on Fridays, so he can prepare for Shabbat.  He cooks the meal, usually fish with the head still on, (he kept licking his fingers while telling me this, which totally grossed me out.  As I write this I am picturing it and am grossed out more.  He made noises too.  Ew.)

In sum, he is super Jewish.  I was surprised that I had a good time with him, and that I made it home alive.  We have nothing in common.  He doesn’t watch television, doesn’t go to movies, only listens to classical and Israeli music, does not like to go out, and is strict kosher.  He also said he doesn’t like sugar, desserts, or drinking heavily.  All 3 things most dear to my heart.   

Naturally, I agreed to go out with him again.  He told me in the car ride home that he could feel in the air that it was a good date.  Vespa is a wacky dude.