You know how a certain image just gets burned in your memory?
Here’s one of mine.
A bunch of years ago, when I worked at a library in Chicago, a colleague came into my office. She was in her mid-30s, very lovely, and had had a tough time finding her missing link.
A girlfriend was filling me on her latest set-up date.
"Turns out he's pushing 50!" said my 30-something friend.
She named a few more, let's call them "surprises."
I hadn’t heard from my most recent date in a few days and was starting to develop a complex.
Was I doing something wrong to scare these men off?
"I think I have no short-term memory," I told a girlfriend recently.
Or a long-term memory. But that's another story.
How else to explain the fact that I keep plunging head-first into the dating game despite being slammed into the pavement, again.
And again. And again.
I was rushing through town the other day and came to a dead stop.
Were my eyes deceiving me or did that mannequin in the shop window have a wee bit of a belly?
I had one of Oprah’s “Aha!” moments this morning while giving Mister Trevor Dog his vitamin C, fish oil, vitamin e, glucosamine…
Where was I?
Oh, yes, back at the doggy old age home where the two of us share vitamins, minerals and the Haaretz Books section, even though those criminals won’t let me review books for them…..
Since when did the cabbie become the new bartender?
I mean, when they aren't robbing you blind or heaping curses upon your head, they sure as hell are a shoulder to lean on, which, for better or worse is just what this American in Israel needs!
I couldn’t believe my four eyes.
Which is another way of saying, there were so many men at this rooftop party in Tel Aviv – So many single men! So many straight, single men! So many non-religious, straight, single men! – that I nearly passed out from the shock of it all!
“How are you, Avigail?” my driving teacher asked, full of good cheer.
“Tired!” I said, grumpily.
And why shouldn’t I be? It was 8:30 pm after all, the time of evening that any decent person would be home, having a lie down after a long day at work.
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.
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