Oops I forgot

It’s been quite some time since my last blog.

I took a break from the whole ‘dating’ scene, because men, and not just jewish bocher’s, were annoying me. Their lack of respect was pitiful and I questioned who was raising these young men to become such Shmucks. (I do not blame you, mothers. I blame the fathers.)

As you know before my time on jdate concluded, I went on a date with a Vitenamese
Buddhist, whose dental hygiene was lacking, but there was another… or there was supposed to be another.

Bocher #4- Mr. “ Oops I forgot”

I met, or never met, but began talking with Bocher #4 around August of 2008, on Jdate of course. He sent me flirts, e-cards, and finally we talked via Jdate instant message one mid Saturday. His profile was nothing out of the ordinary, he listed his occupation, his interests, his past, etc… etc.

But, his pictures weren’t so run of the mill; one was of him humping a guitar, while the others showed him in many different guitar playing positions.
God knows I can’t resist a man who plays the guitar, whether it be electric or acoustic, there is simply something about a guy who can make a melody with his fingers… it’s fucking sexy.

We became fast facebook friends, the necessary for a maidel who wants to know more about a potential Bocher.

The IM led to telephone talk, which we engaged in for quite some time, because he said, he ‘liked to get to know someone before actually meeting face to face.’

We didn’t have a great deal in common, he was a chemist, I am a writer, but the conversation flowed smoothly and I looked forward to a date.

Until, he said that this face to face encounter might have to wait until… October.
It was August.

Don’t get me wrong, I like shmoozing on the telly like any other Klaperkeh (talkative woman), but I also kind of like taking that conversation elsewhere, say a restaurant or a bowling alley, or a park (you choose).

He made excuses about being really busy with work and a new condo he was in the process of purchasing.

It was August.

But I smiled and said okay.

Eventually, he said that he just liked me as a friend, and I moved on...until December of this past year when he began poking me via facebook. This ‘poking war’ became tshepen (annoying) and finally he messaged me and suggested we talk. I gave him my number and he texted me, promising he’d call the next day, which he did, and we chatted.

Like before, the conversation flowed with only minor glitches. He questioned why I was still single and I told him, ‘because men say they know what they want, ‘a relationship,’ when all they really want is ‘bootay.’’

He assured me he was looking for a relationship and I told him he’d have to prove that to me considering his last bout of doucheness.

We began talking via telephone because, like before, he liked to get to get to know someone, blah, freaking blah…

He told me his physical appearance had changed a bit, said he had gone bald.

I assured him that was Kosher.

I lied.

I like men with hair, flowing locks of gorgeousness.

He even read my blog, which is saying A LOT considering he is a chemist who doesn’t like the art of writing or reading, and sent me sweet text messages, like, ‘can’t wait to chat later to tonight,’ or ‘night cutie.’

All signs pointed to normal, to an NJB.

He even asked me on an actual date, but I had to decline because I was babysitting, but wouldn’t have been able to had I not been because the blizzard of ’09 hit D.C.

Our meeting would have to wait until I returned from Bama, which I was headed to for the holidays.

On our (my sis, Gary, and Emmet) way to board the flight he even texted me ‘have a safe flight, will call you later,’ and he did!

These are all good things, right?

When I returned the next week we made plans to have our first date that upcoming Saturday and I excitedly began browsing the web for date ideas (in addition to first talking, he also refuses to take a girl to dinner on the first date, HMM)

That Friday night I texted him to make sure we were still on for the next evening, and he left a voice message confirming and said he’d call in a bit to discuss details.

Saturday arrived.

I waited.

I went about my normal day, and pretended to not be worried when he didn’t call me that morning.

I wanted to play it cool. (Inside I was shvitzing)


I refused to text him because I didn’t want to appear pushy.

That afternoon I went to the gym, hoping that when I finished my workout I’d have a phone call or text from him.

Nope.

I waited.

Around 7 o’clock that evening when I texted him ‘Assuming we are not hanging out tonight, if you ever feel like it let me know. Thanks.’

He responded the next day (not even that night!) and says, ‘Something came up, and to be honest…
I forgot.”

WTF

NEVER, and I mean NEVER, tell a woman who you are ‘supposedly’ interested in that you ‘forgot’ about a date or an occasion.

The truth, gentlemen, will ‘not set you free;’ instead it will bind you to a heavy chain, and many hours or days of verbal attack.

Just lie.

Lie like you’ve never lied before.

Lie like the security of your penis depends on it.

Because if you don’t, don’t expect to ever get a call back from this little lady.
I deleted his number, and when I told my sister and brother in law, my brother in law looked at me and said one of the nicest things he’s ever said to me, ‘that’s an embarrassment, and not to you, Dorie, an embarrassment to him.’

An embarrassment it is.