The Jew-Date Diaries: Toothbrushes

There’s an extra toothbrush in my medicine cabinet. I should probably just toss it out.
It all started innocently enough – you graciously offered me a ride home when, after a night of revelry out with “the crew,” it was clear that my car needed to stay parked in the ramp for the evening. ( I’m actually surprised I didn’t meet you sooner. My best friend has been dating your best friend for over a year. How is it that we didn’t bump into each other earlier?)  I would later find out that my apartment was in the exact opposite direction of yours. You didn’t seem to mind the drive, even though the snow was falling hard by the time we left Downtown. I can’t remember if you offered to see me to my door or if I invited you up. It wasn’t until we were halfway up the stairs before I realized that my apartment was in no shape for visitors. You smiled as I told you the story of the mezuzah on my front doorpost while I fumbled with the lock and you ignored the mess when we finally got inside. We sat on my couch and talked for hours. And then you realized you should go home. As I saw you out, you leaned in to kiss me. It caught me off guard and I didn’t kiss you back. I climbed into my bed that night feeling like a fool.
Our lives grew busy. Six weeks passed before I saw you again. We finally met up for a cocktail one night after work. I was off my game after a long day at the office but you still leaned in to kiss me when you walked me to my car. This time I kissed you back. I drove across town giddy with thoughts of possibilities.
Life grew busy again. Our schedules never seemed to mesh. And then, we finally found ourselves at the same Shabbat table one recent Friday night. You walked me the few blocks home. This time I definitely invited you up. Like a good Girl Scout, always prepared, I had an extra toothbrush in my linen closet waiting for you. You laughed at me as you brushed your teeth before we fell into bed.
Two weeks passed as our lives moved in opposite directions. But I ended up on your side of town on Purim. You wouldn’t let me drive home. My choices were a cab ride across the river or spending the night with you. It was an easy decision. You had a toothbrush waiting for me. You mumbled something about saving money by buying a four-pack. I laughed to myself as I brushed my teeth before we fell into bed. And I wondered at the fate of the toothbrush in the morning. Would you keep it there, waiting for me to come back again? Or would you toss it out?
That toothbrush – your toothbrush –  is still in my medicine cabinet. I keep it there, hoping you’ll be back to use it again sometime soon.
(Photo: meddygarnet)