October 7, 2011
Making Amends to My Boyfriend on Yom Kippur
Guest blogger and my dear sister, Jenna Kagel has written a letter to her boyfriend to make amends for Yom Kippur. She has allowed me to repost it here.
I’m sorry that every time you watch a boxing match on TV, I feign a terrible headache that necessitates your assistance.
I’m sorry that every time your non-Jewish afro grows beyond reasonable limits, I demand that you urgently get to the barber shop for a military haircut.
I’m sorry that I buy you clothes that say polo playing aristocrat, when I know you prefer the worn out vintage professor look.
I’m sorry that I continually cook ultra spicy Mexican delights for dinner that give you heartburn for the next three days.
I’m sorry that my vegetarianism prevents us from enjoying the delectable meats that has made your country internationally notorious.
I’m sorry I am lactose intolerant, which means that neither one of us can ever enjoy lapping up an ice cream treat - your favorite food.
I’m sorry that I don’t like your girl friends because they hang on to your every word and glance, which translates into me frowning upon all interactions with people you work with.
I’m sorry that I get emotional when I drink because I drink often and usually while I’m in your company.
I’m sorry that I laughed at you when I discovered that for two weeks you had been using bath gel as a body lotion because you actually thought it was a body lotion.
I’m sorry that I automatically get mad when you show up for dinner late, when I know it’s actually not your fault and it’s really the non-existent bus system in the city.
I’m sorry I never read the book you published, which you dedicated to me.
I’m sorry I have never really read anything you wrote because it seems laboriously taxing just by looking at it.
I’m sorry for making fun of your over-gesticulations because I remember finding that to be endearing when we first met three years ago.
I’m sorry that your name is not Jewish enough for my family and that they re-named you Manny Nunnstein for a year and half, which made you wildly angry even though you never said anything and that there are still distant relatives that call you Manny.
And lastly, I’m sorry that you’re not Jewish. Because if you were, you would have so much more patience and understanding with my kvetching and my chutzpa, and my mishpocha would finally shut up about it already!
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