Written by Jersey Jew. Jersey Jew is a first-time Jewrotica writer.
I have always been a bit of a snob when it comes to the male species, looking for that tall, dark, handsome guy. Throughout my romantic endeavors, egotistical, self-indulged men have always piqued my interest. I still have no idea why. It could be that their confidence sprays an erotic mist on me, making it impossible to see dangerous warning signs and flaws–blinding me with lust.
This past summer I went on Birthright, then spent two months splayed on the beaches of Tel Aviv, enjoying countless cocktails, dancing till my feet could no longer communicate with my brain, and of course, experiencing the summer romances that come with vacation. Israeli men are my kryptonite. Their words “motek,” “mami,” and “yafyufa” echo in my head like a sweet melody in the cool summer breeze. The vacation was way too short, I mused as I packed my bags and headed for Ben Gurion airport for my 11 hour flight to Jersey.
Being home felt like a melancholy downgrade. I went from being a queen-bee summer celebrity, the exotic blonde American beauty, and being treated like I was something special, to fulfilling my dull role as the dutiful daughter, waitress, and social outcast. One day, a couple weeks after my return, I received a Facebook message from a cute Jewish male friend, who I had practically been glued to during our Birthright trip this past summer, but just as friends. “Let’s hang” he said. Thus began our dates: from coffee, to frozen yogurt, to the kiss, and then a relationship.
But before I could dive into this, I had to consider certain things. First, he did not fit my usual type: athletic, muscular, masculine, Israeli. He was skinny, less than aggressive, and one year my junior. What was most troubling, he had no intention of making aliyah, which had always been a secret dream of mine. But his sweet bee-sting lips and tantalizing smile dragged me in like a mosquito trapped in a spider’s web. I knew from that first lip biting, head holding, strong manly kiss that this was it. I was hooked, like an alcoholic to his bottle, like a hippie to her hemp.
He was a gentleman, always making sure I was comfortable and happy. He left me morning text messages and bedtime notes. He was benevolent, humble, and slowly my checklist for my “Dream Guy” started to dissolve. It made me wonder if my checklist was worth all the obsessive energy I devoted to it. Do our commitments to our superficial checklists cause us to overlook men who are perfect for us, in favor of what we think we want?
For the first time of my life I was happy. My body became a sanctuary of vigorous lovemaking. Movie nights were movie nights and conversations were conversations, rather than filler used as a means to an end: for sex, a quick booty call, or a one night stand. I felt free to be who I wanted to be. As I sit typing away about my miracle of a relationship, I wonder quietly to myself: did G-d do this? Did he put me on that trip to meet this wonderful man in my life? Did he take away the blindfold and show me the light? This only comes with faith, faith of knowing that Hashem is at work at all times of the day. All you got to do is have a little faith.