In Search of a Nice Jewish Boy

Let me preface this post with a critically important disclaimer:
- I went against my will.
- I'm morally opposed to these kinds of social encounters.
- I went against my will.
- I was dragged there. I'd venture to say that I was kidnapped.

The Matzo Ball: The largest, annual Jewish singles event, held every Christmas Eve in five major cities in the US (five too many).

I embarked on this journey of Jewish ecstasy with my sister and some of her friends. We arrived at the club and headed straight to the bathroom; Julie's bladder, never in passive mode, but always ruling her life and mine. Inside the bathroom, her friend commented that people in the club looked much older than us.

"Don't worry, I was here last year. Trust me, it gets better," someone says.

Ok, it seems as though we have a repeat offender on our hands. “To the bar,” I say, my senses aching to be numbed. I looked at the female bartender, and if estrogen could speak, she heard my calling to "make it strong, Sister."

My own sister, a "spacious" dancer - that said for her tendency to take up more space than the average person when dancing - managed to accidentally slap me across the face and obstruct the delicate tissues of my eye with a pronounced dance move. She then apologized profusely and started kissing me in the immediate (very immediate) eye area, which I'm sure didn't appear awkward at all to the crowd of people and certainly didn’t help my minor trauma. Her band-aid approach was almost as uncomfortable as when someone kisses you right on the ear and permanently diminishes your hearing ability.

Soon after this "bitch-slap" episode, a guy came over to me and said, "Woah! Are you ok?? I saw that slap from all the way over there."

Me: "Yeah, yeah I'm fine," I said smiling, trying not to cry, wondering if my cornea would ever be the same.

He stuck around, and so begins the story of how the only Asian in this club filled with hundreds of people tried to pick me up.

So we're talking, I think I'm blinking excessively, and then he says, "I need to tell you something."

Lay it on me, buddy.

Him: "I'm not really Jewish," with a shrug of his shoulders.

S-H-O-C-K-E-R. Lo mein, shlo mein. Wonton, shmonton. No big deal, karate kid.

He asked my name. Then I asked his.

Him: "David."

Sneaky bastard. You can't come to a Jewish party with that name and not have either:
- a hook nose;
- a woman in your life who answers to Bubbie; or
- a sporadic craving for kugel.

You just CAN'T.

Your first name is Wang, Ching, or Ding. Your last name is Wong, Chung, or Dong. Pick one of the aforementioned options, any combination will work, and do it faster than I can say "egg foo young."

I managed to escape. The party (pain) continued.

I was sitting down, waiting for my sister to come out of the bathroom. Story of my life. No more than three seconds after my tushi hit the bench, a dorky, Jewish vulture boy swooped down.

He stretched his arm in front of me, revealing a rolled sleeve cuff and said, "Do you prefer cuffs rolled up or down?" (while giving a head nod and raising one eyebrow).
Well, this is one I haven't heard before.

Now, I'm no stranger to attention from sources you'd NEVER want to receive it from.

For example: 11th grade Law Studies class trip to the Broward Country Correctional Facility. I was all the rage among the prisoners in Cell Block B. Hand gestures and beckoning like nothing I'd ever seen before (or since).

Getting back to the bird of prey before me, who has already started pecking away. I say, with a 'are u fucking kidding me' look on my face, "Ummm....I don't really know."

Scavenger: "Oh come on, you have to have a preference."

A preference? Sure. 5'10", dark hair, good teeth, funny, thoughtful, smart, European if we're really talking ideal - and after tonight, a NON-Jew. A Catholic. Very Catholic. Roman Catholic. Someone who would demand that our future children be baptized and have that stuff smudged on their forehead on a random Wednesday. Basically, a far cry (and I think I might at this point) from you. I spot my sister and, like a bird whose wings have just been unclipped, fly over to her.

Please scroll up to the disclaimer at the top and re-read it.

Later on...
Wait, is that my sister dancing on stage? It's not just Christmas Eve anymore, it's Armageddon. Yup, the world is coming to an end.

What else, what else?

Oh you know, walking through the bar, you get:
- Single? You single?
- Hey you...ya single?
- Mmmmph! girl, what up?

Luckily, in dire need of a bang trim, I couldn't see everything that was going on.

The night ended with a Portuguese, self-proclaimed non-Jew asking for my number, saying he came looking for a good Jewish wife. Ummm...go to hell. And while you're at it, take the shirt cuff schmuck with you.

For those friends who plan on visiting me, please be advised that I now attend church every Sunday. You can sleep in while I'm out hailing my new girl Mary.

Merrily yours,
Jackie