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It’s just 2 days into the new year (5774) and I’m already making bad decisions for my love life. So much for new year’s resolutions. I’ll try again in December, I suppose.

Anyway, have you heard of this new app? It’s called Tinder. It uses some of your facebook info and connects you to other tinder-users in your immediate area. It shows other tinder users 3-4 of your facebook pics and whether or not you two have common interests or friends. Then, similar to the old “Hot or Not” you chose no or yes. If you both click yes, the app informs you that there’s a match and a chat is set up. It’s a thinly-veiled dating app.

So, as embarrassing as this is, after Ellen told me about Tinder, I downloaded it to see what was what and long story short, I met Allan almost instantly. Allan is 34 and a born and bred Tel Avivi. We had fun and flirty chat over the app yesterday so we upgraded and I gave him my number. He called yesterday evening and we spoke for about 15 minutes of more fun-ness and flirtation. So, when we got off the phone I told him to call me tomorrow (today) and we would set something up to meet in person.

Then he called today.

He kept me on the phone for nearly 2 hours….and I’m not a phone person. I couldn’t find an easy out and as many times as I dropped hints that I had to go or was hanging up, he wasn’t letting me off the phone. And to make matters worse, the conversation today was 90% him telling me how much he loves Brooklyn and how living in Brooklyn for 4 years at age 19 was the most amazing time of his life. What’s more is he started to give me the typical Israeli speech about how hard it is here and how he’s just happier in the US, etc. etc. etc. Typical confused, self-indulgent man.

Then he made a subject change that did not work in his favor: how much easier it is to work in the entertainment industry in the US because “those people are paid well and appreciated.” Bad move, buddy.

Here’s the thing: I was once unhappy with my life too. So I made a change and made myself happier. Don’t sit here and tell me that you have been miserable trying to make a way for yourself for 8 years. Don’t complain to me. You’re 34 years old. If you’re unhappy, make a change. And certainly don’t tell me that the US is better to entertainment types. Been there, done that, made 455$ a week in professional theater before taxes working 100-125 hours a week. I had had it. I went off. I told him how it was. I told him that he sounded lost when the word I really wanted to use was “pathetic.”

“You’re disappointed,” he said. “I can hear it.” I’m not disappointed, I explained. I am just no longer in the habit of investing energy in people who don’t have the same goals as I do. You’re 34, you work as a kitchen operator for a local bar, you don’t have a college degree at all, you are willing to spend 2 hours on the phone with a relative stranger bitching about your life, and you are madly in love with a dream of a country that doesn’t exist anymore. I’m not disappointed, I’m seeing the facts. I had no expectations, therefore disappointment is not an option. 

“You had no expectations?” Well, no. Actually, yes, I expected that when you said you would call me earlier, you would call to make plans to meet up, but 45 minutes into this conversation I realized that wasn’t happening. “Why do you say that? I still would love to meet with you,” he asked. I don’t know, I’m just getting the we’re-not-gonna-meet vibe from you, that’s all.

Then it took him 20 more minutes to commit to the window of 10pm-10:30pm tonight and the bar across from my apartment (although he doesn’t know I live there). Why did I agree to meet up with him tonight? Maybe I felt badly for this pathetic shell of a man. Maybe I felt that after awkwardly twisting him into asking me out, I didn’t have the heart to turn him down. Maybe I’m just curious and mildly masochistic.

Either way, he’s going to have to work very hard to turn this first impression faux pas around, if he has higher hopes beyond one drink in my neighborhood.

He’s lost. I can already hear it. It’s not sexy and I’m out of the helping lost-boys business.

Where are all the confident men who know what they want and how to get it?

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