In the second installment of The Jew-Date Diaries, Rachel (a planner by nature) falls for the man of her dreams.
I was six months out of a miserable relationship and two weeks into a JDate membership. I was also ignoring my mother’s oh-so-helpful advice to “just lose 15 lbs or so” before trying to find the man of my dreams.
I won’t lie. I wasn’t terribly impressed with the suggested matches that appeared in my inbox every morning. I wasn’t disappointed either, but none of them jumped out at me. Until his. I knew from the moment that I saw his profile that I NEEDED to go on a date with this man. So I clicked a ‘yes’ and was more than pleasantly surprised when he clicked ‘yes’ too.
We exchanged the requisite number of messages on JDate before swapping real emails and friending each other on Facebook. I couldn’t quite understand why he – a gorgeous post-doctoral student with a sexy South African accent – needed to be on JDate, but after some flirty banter back and forth, I stopped questioning.
“Dr. Hottie” (so named by my girlfriends) was headed back to Johannesburg for pesach but we made plans to have our first date upon his return. He sent me a few sweet “how are you? My family is driving me nuts…” emails while he was gone. I planned our future together. By the time he was back in the states, I had already named our three, yet-to-be-born children. The anticipation for our first date was both exhilarating and excruciating.
The night of our first date finally arrived and things were looking up 20 minutes before Dr. Hottie was due to arrive at my doorstep. My usually unruly curls were behaving themselves and I looked pretty darn good in my little black dress. I sat on my couch sipping a glass of wine and replying to all of the “good luck” texts from friends. And then I got a text from him: “Hi Rachel – Running a few late. See you soon?” I didn’t mind – I was more than willing to wait for the man that would be meeting me under the chupah soon enough. Two hours and two glasses of wine on an empty stomach later, I finally got a phone call from him. Dinner with friends had ended up in a small kitchen fire and he was terribly sorry…did I still want to meet for a cocktail and dessert? I. said. yes.
Almost three hours after we were originally supposed to meet, I opened my front door and strolled down the street with Dr. Hottie to the corner café. In our cozy booth, we shared stories and each other’s desserts. We barely noticed the wait-staff trying to subtly end our date as they closed up for the evening. I didn’t want things to end, so when he walked me to my apartment I invited him in for a coffee.
We weren’t even into my foyer before I found myself up against the wall, making out like I was 16 all over again. Needless to say, the coffee maker was never turned on. As night turned into early morning, I realized that I was falling in love. Somewhere around 3 or 4 am, Dr. Hottie made his way home and I fell into bed, full of wishful thinking about all of the good things to come.
I waited the entire weekend to hear from him. I knew he was busy with his lab work, so I wasn’t surprised when I didn’t hear from him for three days. And finally, on Tuesday morning, I got a Facebook message from him:
I had a really, really good time with you on Friday night. It’s just that I’m not over my ex yet and with school and everything…Well, I just don’t think I’m looking for what you’re looking for. I really think you’re wonderful and I’d like to see you sometime in the future.
I really don’t think there’s more to say. I got dumped. After one date. On Facebook.