Filed under: Exploits
I worked 14.5 hours yesterday. My boss is away on a business trip, and I got a ton done working by myself in my jammies (remember, I am staying for now as a guest in his home, and it is a home office). Some of the things I did yesterday include: I wrote copy for our website, set up meetings for my boss in New York, and – even though I am not a graphic designer – designed our company business cards, letterhead, and press kit folder stickers. I didn’t go outside, I kinda ate like crap, I stayed in my jammies – Girl was focused!
But it’s OK, b/c I am really enjoying it. I had the iPod/Bose sound dock playing my “Hipster” smart playlist, I had Atraf going in the background and checking it every so often, and I was – Ehhh…how you say it? – in the zone.
But finally, around 10pm, some plans materialized out of thin air. I messaged two boys on Atraf and they both messaged me back. I’m multitasking within an inch of my life: messaging both boys, emailing my boss, on Skype with my mom, and by luck of the draw, I wind up Skyping with one of the boys (vs. the other one). Let’s call him Barbaro.
Well, we have a fun Skype video chat. And he asks me out. My first date in Israel! So, I explain to Boy Two that I suddenly have plans, do about 90 minutes more graphic design work, then get ready and FINALLY, at midnight, leave the house.
It’s so good to be out! I’m bopping along outside, singing to Fountains of Wayne and Rufus Wainwright, I jump in the sherut (minibus) and voila!, I am there meeting him.
First, I should say that I almost exited the sherut without anyone knowing I’m not Israeli, which has been a goal of mine. I learned and memorized how to say, “Stop, please.” (t’ahtzohr, n’vakeshah), and I break it out and use it correctly. But we weren’t in the left most lane, and the driver spoke to me in Hebrew (saying, I think – “wait, there is a car coming” or something to that effect), and I had to blow my cover and say, “Sorry, I speak English.” (cue Debbie Downer music.)
So, Boy One is cute in person! Oh, hell, since it didn’t turn out great, I’ll just post his picture, even though he knows about this blog and has checked it out already. I’m not trying to be vengeful, but fair is fair, you know? And if he wants me to take it down, I will.
Cute, right? With a personality to match. 23, extremely smart and creative, just a funky and vibrant person. I like him immediately. We cab to BLOCK, some club where there is a gay night tonight. On the way, we pass another club with a crowd outside. I think this is it, but he says, “Eww, not that is very” (and uses two words I forgot to write down). I instinctively know what he’s saying, though, b/c I ask, “bridge & tunnel?” He explains that that crowd is people from Hasharon and Holon and places close-but-outside of T.A. Ha! Exactly, I was right! Bridge & tunnel (Queens, NJ, etc) coming into Manhattan. I explain and he says I got it exactly.
He’s very connected (knows the DJ), and we’re on the list. But there’s a slight problem (I am not also on), so he makes a call, and *boom!*, I am on. We go inside. Not crowded yet. Find a private area and talk more – about the army, Aliyah, travelling, his future career plans. It’s fun. And at the right moment, we share an amazing kiss. Not exaggerating either, we were in sync.
It pretty much goes downhill from there. It’s house music – not my favorite, but it’s deccent enough, and I wanna go onto the dance floor. “Uh-uh,” he says. I prefer to stay and dance up here. He is dancing, but on the steps leading down to the dancefloor. Girlfriend likes to survey +/or lord over everything, checking it all out. It’s cute to watch him, but this is a drag for me, and I’m not comfortable letting loose and dancing while I’m blocking people from stepping onto/leaving the dancefloor. He also makes me untuck my shirt.
I had been wearing a cardigan, b/c I didn’t know what kind of club he was taking me to. Marino wool, not worn yet in Israel. Now let me just say that THIS PLACE STINKED LIKE SMOKE WORSE THAN KEITH RICHARDS FINGERNAILS. Everyone was smoking. I really started to feel sick and woozy from it. B/t the second hand smoke in clubs and (if i’m not careful putting SPF moisturizer everytime I leave the house in the daytime), I’m totally gonna wrinkle/age faster here that in the U.S. So, I dump the cardigan mainly to keep it from reeking (too late, I learned).
Anyway, we dance (his way) for an hour tops. He’s checking everyone out, smoking like a fiend, and…it’s just not that fun. After a while, he wants to sit on a cushion on the side of the dancefloor. Then, he wants to go. Good, I’m ready. (Meanwhile, I should add that one boy is cuter than the next in this club. The eye candy is seriously Premium.)
So, we’re outside, and he puts me in a taxi, says he is tired and that’s it. I’m pretty far from home (not walkable), and I wind up spending about 140 sheckels ($35) on the (pretty short) night. Plus, my whole outfit is stinkified, and I was dissed by a 23-year old vibrant chainsmoker.
And I had to diss Boy Two to have this evening. I really picked the wrong horse this time.
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