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Yesterday, I was sitting outside of my apartment building, waiting for my ride to pick me up. The weather was beautiful finally, and I was comfortable in jeans and a light sweater. I felt a little like an iguana, perched on my retaining wall, basking in the sun, soaking in its warmth. A man walked over with a dog. The dog stopped to smell something, and the man took the opportunity to stop to talk to me. He said something in Hebrew, which I neither heard nor understood. I asked him to repeat it, and when I still didn’t get it, I confessed that I don’t speak Hebrew all that well (slicha, ani lo mdaberet ivrit tov…).

him: oh! you speak English?
me: yeah.. sorry…
him: you want to get together sometime?

This is not an exaggeration. This is verbatim how the conversation went.

me: umm..yeah! sure!
him: what is your number? I’ll call you.

I gave him my number.

him: talk to you!

And away he walked.

6 hours later, my phone rings. It’s him! This is why I love Israeli men. They go after what they want. We spoke and made plans for that night at 9:30. Everything was going well, until we actually started to hang out. Then, the whole idea of him started to go down hill.

Now, don’t get me wrong. He was SUPER hot. VERY attractive with light eyes, thick, curly soft hair, tall, nice build. SO good looking. But he was strange. He was 35 and the whole date consisted of us meeting on the street then immediately going back to his place. He showed up with his dog, and I thought we were just dropping the dog off at his apartment then going out. Nope. We got to his place and he opened a bottle of wine and lit a cigarette. Ok. Whatever. Then, the more he drank, the stranger he got. Talking about energy and tantric living and time and whatnot. Now, all of this is fine, except that it was paired with the distinct impression that he thought I was going to sleep with him last night. That just was not happening.

As the night went on, he started kissing me. It was ok. No fireworks, but sweet. Then he tried to get me to take my shoes off. I refused. Then he tried to move the party from the sofa to the bed. Not happening. My phrases went from subtle to blatant: “This isn’t happening tonight.” “This really isn’t going to happen tonight.” “I’m not staying here tonight.” “I’m not doing this tonight.” “We are not going to have sex tonight.” Again, not exaggerating here.

He tried to use every line he could to give me permission to sleep with him. “It’s about energy, there is no time.” “You just have to do what feels right.” He ever told me the success story of he and his ex-girlfriend who had sex on the first date. Nice, right?

When I saw that he wasn’t going to give up as long as I was in his apartment, I bounced. I stood up, put my jacket on, and said, “well, thank you for a nice night. maybe I’ll see you again.”

him: don’t joke with me.
me: I don’t joke about this stuff. Just because it’s not happening tonight doesn’t mean it can’t happen another night. I’m just not a first-date-fuck kind of girl anymore.

He walked me out. He asked if I wanted to get together tonight. I told him to call me. I don’t think he will, and I’m not upset about that.

Now, while he was weird and pushy, it felt good to be getting out there again. It felt good to be wanted, especially by someone SO good looking. Now that the weather is clearing up and getting warmer again, maybe the season will bring a new person and a new adventure with it! He was a good way to “get back on the horse,” so to speak.

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