Since my last relationship ended two years ago, I have dated a lot of girls from OKCupid. If OkCupid had frequent flier miles I’d have enough miles to fly to Bangkok.
I don’t exclusively date Jewish girls, but there are plenty from which to choose on OKCupid. It’s where I met Jaimie, a 30 year old Michigan grad from West Lake Village, a pale but attractive Jewish girl who posted pictures of her hair pulled back sporting big square frames and a turquoise cardigan. Jaimie seemed less rebellious than other users, namely GifelteBitch, with her pierced lip and proclivity for drug use. When my parents have a nice Jewish girl in mind for me, I doubt it’s GifelteBitch.
Jaimie arrived at the Dime, a popular bar on Fairfax, wearing the frames and cardigan, just as advertised. On a first date it’s important to see what you have in common and then build conversation from there. Jaime said she loves going to comedy shows and I told her about my upcoming comedy show that I host at Melgard. We ordered another drink and later agreed what an amazing football game Michigan played against Notre Dame. She cut me off, though I don’t think she realized I had more to say about Denard Robinson. After two hours of easy conversation I walked her to the valet. “It was nice meeting you. We should do it again next week.”
“Yes, definitely next week,” she said.
I thought it was a nice first date, but her parting words “Definitely next week”seemed to validate that I put together a pretty impressive performance. For our next date I invited Jaimie to The Pleasure Chest, a sex shop on Santa Monica Blvd. A comedy show takes place there so my invitation was not construed as perverted, just a bit weird. We sat in the third row next to the panties. “Would you like me to put your glasses case in my purse?” she asked. Sitting next to the panties really brought out her maternal instincts.
When host Eli Olsberg introduced special guest, Sara Silverman I glanced at Jaime to see if she seemed enthused. Instead of locking eyes, she looked straight ahead with a blank stare. After the show we walked across to street to Bar Lubitsch for a drink. I pointed to a tall guy with a beard. “Hey, its Pau Gasol.” “No, it’s not.” The rest of the time I tried convincing her to no avail. I drove her home and as we sat in the car for a moment she leaned over and kissed me and then quickly crossed the street to her apartment.
We exchanged texts and agreed to get together the following Wednesday. I got us tickets on Goldstar to see “Ghetto Klown,” John Leguizamo’s one man show. I picked Jaimie up and opened the car door for her. While circling the car I couldn’t help but smile knowing how absurd I probably looked perfoming this act, especially since the car door wouldn’t open until the third time I pressed the button. We found a great place to park on Vine just south of Sunset but Jaime noticed a temporary tow away sign. “Should I chance it?”
“I think we should move the car to be safe,” she reasoned.
I wanted to open the car door for her again, but we didn’t have much time, plus we had to find another parking space so, in theory I would be opening the car door for her three times on the first leg of our trip which seemed a bit excessive. Once seated Leguizamo began firing one liners, among the best involving his snappy comebacks to Steven Sagal on the set of “Executive Decision” that led to a fist right. I looked to Jaimie to see if we would share a laugh. She stared straight ahead with that same blank stare.
When we arrived back on her street I asked if I should park. “Sure,” she said. “Cool!!!” I mistakenly said out loud.
Once inside she opened a petite syrah which had soured. It tasted awful, but I finished my glass to be polite and gain the courage make a move. I guided her to her bedroom and got lost along the way at which point she guided me the rest of the way. Upon entering she explained, “Tonight we are keeping our pants on.”
“Even me?” I asked.
Given these parameters I did what only a normal 26 year old male would do—made love the best I could with my pants on.
I was hoping our next date would take place on a Saturday night. I texted her an invitation to get together. I didn’t hear from her so I texted her again. I spent Saturday with buddies drinking and watching college football. I crashed at 10pm and woke up at 2am with a taste of white wine in my mouth. I drank a tall glass of water and saw that I received a text message at 11:30pm.
“To be honest, I’m not feeling it and don’t think we should go out again.”
That’s one way of saying goodnight! Jaimie, who was no longer “feeling it,” whatever “it” was, never once said my name nor did she ask how my comedy show went. The only real telling moment of our three dates was the time she held onto my glasses case.
So, her number has been deleted, and our short lived facebook friendship is no more.
Three and out. There’s always GifeltBitch.
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