I’m a bit weak in the knees for a film critic named Uri Klein.
I mean, the guy’s a genius. An absolute, honest to Hashem genius.
It’s not just that he seems to have an encyclopedic knowledge about any and every filmmaker (and film) ever created since the beginning of time.
I mean, lots of nerds out there know a lot of facts.
No, it’s his ability to take that vast body of knowledge and to connect the dots in such a way that suddenly, you know exactly why the Sex & the City movie is so subpar. Or that the seemingly disparate films by a certain filmmaker are actually all riffs on the ways in which men and women deceive each other.
Like I said, a genius!
Which is another way of saying, Where is Uri Klein when I need him to help me interpret my love life?
Because as an American here, the Israeli male is really confusing. And if their English is good it is even worse because I think we’re speaking the same language when, in fact, I have no idea what they are talking about. Or doing.
Not to mention the fact that most of these Israeli men have the sense of humor (and maturity level) of a 6th grade boy.
That’s not a compliment, by the way.
So what to do?
I happen to like a nice, serious South African. Or an exuberant Argentinean. But the only ones who seem to contact me on Jdate are native Israelis.
Me thinks it is time to move to Johannesburg!
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