In typical European fashion, Mr. Pepe La Jew arrived at the Olive Bar at the W Hotel fifteen minutes late. The only thing that glistened more than his mildly perspiring face was the gold Star of David he wore around his neck. In the world of brownie points, French accent + Jewish + actually attractive = a wet dream on most days but this very classy gentleman was very much a reality. Conversation was witty and quick, seeming to flow effortlessly. He has a career in finance, an apartment in NoMad (formerly the no-name prime real estate above Gramercy and North of Madison Square Park), an inner circle of French Jewish cohorts, a burning desire to avoid planning at all costs in the name of spontaneity and a self-admitted pride for being a walking contradiction. For example, on a hot day Pepe prefers to go home and drink a glass of red wine as opposed to the more refreshing white. He goes for drinks at a New York Landmark with an Italian/Austrian Catholic girl when he is very much an observant Jew. We’re talking kosher meats, not to be mixed with dairy, Shabbat dinners on Friday nights with friends (his family still lives in France), and Synagogue on high holy days. In case you were wondering … No, he does not regularly sport a yarmulke.
His very European attitude and accent and admitted love of all things New York were extremely sexy. At this point, two thirds of my Trifecta Jackpot have been met: he’s not Catholic and he couldn’t imagine leaving New York. Things were light, fun, cosmopolitan, and then suddenly my ease and enjoyment came to a screeching halt. Mr. La Jew, the respectful, charming, funny, well-mannered, typically Parisian catch asked flat out, “What are you looking for?” This simple, honest question caused my quick and articulate sparkle to fade. I felt noticeably unclear in any answer I attempted to give. It’s not that I don’t know what I want. It’s just the general knowledge that if two parties don’t want the same thing, this answer (as well as his follow up answer) could very well be a deal-breaker. I rambled on about trust, exclusivity, trust again, openness (but not open relationship, the ability to be thorough with someone), seeing where things go, not ready to settle down …. If the Hudson River had flood gates, they were just busted open and all the squalor and bull shit from the river bed came pouring in staining the very trendy carpets of the Olive Bar.
Shortly after my long-winded, non-answer to his question Pepe expressed an interest in a non-serious, casual relationship. “I might have to pick up and go to Hong Kong at a moment’s notice.” Right, well aside from being emotionally unavailable, Pepe, I appreciate your honesty so I don’t waste my time in another faux-relationship where shortly after sleeping with you I get ignored and disregarded. Thank you for saving me the stress, heart-ache, and therapy sessions I would spend talking about you and your inability to commit. Thank you for being upfront and honest and paying for my cocktail.
The post-date reflection on the way home from this very trendy but non-romantic encounter was actually a very rewarding one. The kind of “fun” dating all those who are already coupled up often talk about to be nice, the kind where you can enjoy the company of another person and learn something about yourself in the process, has been experienced. For the first time ever, on this bus ride home, I was able to verbalize what I want.
Drawing a picture in your mind of an unrealistic partner is not useful or anything close to helpful. All I could think of was the anxiety that question produced and how what I want is the polar opposite of that feeling. This jogged my memory to a few weeks ago when I accidentally shared a very personal factoid with someone and this Freudian slip of an omission gave me this same panicked feeling. This person’s instinct was to hug me and hold me for a good minute. That moment was the most calm and nice I’ve felt in seven months. Not to dissect or over-analyze a moment or a gesture, but the sincerity and honesty of an impulse can’t be prefabricated or forced.
So after much thought and reflection on these events, drum roll, please… What I want is not a year of meaningless dates to write about. I want a relationship that’s honest, accepting of baggage, and where both parties get to be their favorite versions of themselves when together.
Bottom Line: A pre-cracked out Whitney Houston said it best: “I wanna dance with somebody/ I wanna feel the heat with somebody/ Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody/ With somebody who loves me. ” So even though Pepe paid for drinks; was very cosmopolitan, high maintenance, self-assured and well-dressed, emotional unavailability as per the rules = deal breaker.
Next Up: Tuesday’s date with Hot-Beard via okcupid!
Your Undercover Lover,
Joneshaw
