Tag Archives: Jew

Why I Blogged

27 Jun

Everybody Hurts…Sometime

In January of 2012, I decided, mostly on a whim, to start a blog about online dating. This was no New Year’s Resolution or sudden epiphany that I was born to be a dating blogger. I wish I could say my hand was forced by destiny…that my mind was pregnant with blogorrheic nuggets of wisdom handed down to me by the gods of online dating themselves. No, dear reader. Alas, this electronic rag was first inspired by an experience most mundane—rejection.

The cute Jewish political operative and I had hooked up on OkCupid and exchanged some very bland and decidedly unbantery overtures to meet. Not only was she a Jew, but a Jew from Florida, which meant no escape from the late-December visit to the panhandle. Fresh off an ugly breakup and a string of fruitless first dates (yay, online dating!), I had no expectations when we met up at a South African wine bar in Hell’s Kitchen. She was even prettier than her pictures and I was immediately attracted to her. Over the next several hours and many glasses of Pinotage and Chenin Blanc, the chemistry was palpable and the night disappeared in front of our eyes as only those really great first dates can. Halfway through the bottle, we both had to pee, only to learn that the bathroom was overflowing. This led to a somewhat memorable experience of being ushered to their sister restaurant down the block by the bartender through pouring rain. With no umbrellas, it was a nice opportunity to take charge and wrap my arm around her in a most manly fashion.

When the night was finally over, we walked to the intersection of our parting and she congratulated me on being her longest date ever. Then, she punctuated it with a clear opening for a kiss. We made out in the rain, not quite Spiderman style, but pretty intensely, neither of us really wanting to go home. We both knew we’d see each other again.

We swapped texts and set up another date for the weekend. Lamely, I suggested we see a movie and get food later. (They can’t all be winners, whatareyagonnado?) On Saturday, screwed by Brooklyn’s ridiculous weekend subway changes, I rushed from the train to the train to the shuttle bus, back to the train, just to cut my lateness by a few minutes. I sent her texts and she was perfectly understanding when I met her just as the movie was starting. She looked great again and I counted the minutes until we could just let go again. After Young Adult (which was an OK date movie I suppose), a fabulously amazing and fabulously expensive tapas experience was followed by a perfectly divey bar. Not long after some beers, I volunteered to cab her home. We got into a car and started making out in the back. I didn’t expect her to invite me in, but she asked me to come up and “meet her cat.” (Oh, ladies, how I love your subtlety.)

Upstairs, after a quick tour of her charming Hell’s Kitchen apartment, we were back at it until we both started falling asleep in each other’s arms. She was sorry for not asking me to spend the night but she wasn’t quite ready, and I absolved her of any guilt. It was totally understandable. As I left, I texted that I really loved holding her. It was a totally uncensored but (I thought) fairly harmless expression of my feelings. I was feeling good again, all was right with the world, there was magic in the air. The Times Square fumes smelled better.

Over the next few days, I was really excited. I texted, I even called. But all I got in return were delayed and tentative replies, with lame and well-worn excuses about having a “crazy week.” It’s not that I hadn’t been rejected before, but not like this. Not after two awesome dates where two souls, as different as any other two, seemed so perfectly in-sync. Not after we kissed the way we did. Not after I’d met her cat, for chrissake! What the fuck did I do wrong? Was I a bad kisser? Was I merely kiss-raping a very timid girl the entire time? Was she seeing someone else who was just a tad more special? It didn’t matter. Her steely response (or lack thereof) was pretty clear. She blew me off without an explanation; I was no better than some loser contacting her online for the first time. I thought of confronting her for answers, but what would that do? So she could fire off some template sandwiching a firm rejection between telling me how awesome I am and that I would find someone great? For the first time in a long time, I was hurt. Truly hurt. Start-a-blog hurt.

 

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What’s in a Name?

30 Jan

Alright, we know the profile setup process is fraught with a number of stressful decisions. But before you decide whether to set the playful photo of you with a cute animal or that headshot from 5 years ago as your profile picture, and before you begin the daunting process of describing yourself to the online world armed with nothing but naked words, you’ve got to pick a name. So let’s take a step back. That’s right, a name. While this will excite some among us, I feel like many will see it as yet another cumbersome step in an already ridiculous process. But you’ll need to suck it up and christen yourself like the rest of us.

So what shall we call ourselves? Whenever I cruise through girls’ profiles, I’m struck by a few very obvious patterns that I will categorize into a few simple baskets:

Geographical Affiliation. Ladies, if you have no inclination to be creative or express anything unique whatsoever about yourself, choose this route. “ParkSlopeGrrl, VillageGal, LadyLES, or UESandy” are all acceptable choices. If you want to take it up a notch and add a simple pun, you’ve reached Level 2: the Geo-Pun handle. Try “FortGreener, WilliamsburgerWithCheese, ChelseaLately, or if you’re more inclined to be racy, AssToria.” Guys, you can take it from here.

Those with less neighborhood pride/interest in attracting people within a 5 block radius who also happen to be Jewish may be fond of the Schmaltzy Pun. With a very large number of Jewish daters in New York, you’ll come across these folks even outside the vaunted halls of jDate. Here the possibilities for irritating nicknames really explode within a large subset of Jewish daters. If, like me, you’re a relatively indifferent Jew, these will make you want to wretch and subsequently block people who choose to hit Enter after typing in “DreidelDave, Lisa_Latke, SchvitzingSchwartz, MeshugarDaddy,” or, god forbid, something more direct, like “Jewlicious, Jewcy, Jewbilation, JewnBug, or NYJew” (if you’re a clever NYU student). There should be a special circle of online dating hell reserved for these nicknames/profiles once retired.

More eggregious than a Schmaltzy Punster and Geo-Affiliate combined is the Elitist Flag. This is a not-so-subtle signifier that not only do you lack a healthy amount of shame for attending an Ivy or Ivy-caliber institution; you actually demand that the world knows it. It’s also an academic mating call to others of the same stripes. You’ll find this group well represented at the lower-Ivy level (think Penn, Brown, Cornell). Thus you might see a “BigRedBarb” or a “UPenny,” or, if you’re really lucky, a “JewPenn.” It bears mentioning that schools with good sports also inspire guys and gals to identify with their alma maters (e.g., “GatorsGal” or “FoghornLonghorn”) but I put these squarely into the category of good old sports affiliations.

Once you’ve successfully avoided the urge to do a Geo-Pun or to raise your Elitist Flag to full mast, you can choose a decent, unimpeachable nickname. I myself haven’t been entirely immune to the lure of the punny handle. This has led to such fiascos as my recent MustLoveBlogs decision, which was quickly undone after some timely intervention from good friends. If you’re not sure, find a good friend and ask. Better yet, crowdsource it with a few people. Names may not make or break your online dating portfolio, but they can make a dent that will be hard to fix.

Think about it…then think again.