Never fill your parents in on your love life until you are absolutely, positively sure that you are going to be marrying your significant other, or at least have been doing them for a while. I learned this mistake the hard way. Now that my mother knows that I do, in fact, like girls and have been dating them for some time, she has assumed the mission of setting me up with every prospective Jewish girl she can randomly meet.
Normally, I simply refuse to indulge in her whims. Generally, I do this out of pure spite, but one must also take into account the all-powerful shikse appeal. Nothing strikes me better than marrying a Jesus-loving girl. Oh, and being Catholic would really sweeten the deal. Anyway, over break, I felt myself weakening to my mother’s requests, and as that three-week drought began to hit home, I caved. So, on Christmas Eve, where do I find myself, you ask? I am standing in line at a club that is hosting a special party specifically for the chosen people.
The party was named the Gefilte Fish Bash. It was a Jewish singles’ night. I tell you it was some scene – Jews as far as the eye could see. Now, I realize it’s a singles’ night, so obviously, we are not dealing with the cream of the crop – this party was a plastic surgeon’s wet dream. It was like high school all over again – before all the rich girls had daddy invest in some new body parts.
I’m 22-years-old now, and I guess that may be a little young to start freaking out about meeting women, so maybe I was a little young to go to a singles’ night. Honestly, the age gap at the party was startling. The average age had to have been at least 30 and it just kept going up from there, which just isn’t good for anyone. This experience has crushed my fragile innocence, and if I’m over 25 and still single, I’m marrying the first girl I meet. Although I did not meet Miss Right
at this party, I did have a
good time people-watching.
Here is a little tidbit you all might not yet have discovered about your Jewish friends. We may be witty, funny and good- looking, but dancers, we most certainly are not. Why this place had four dance floors is beyond me, but each floor was packed with varying degrees of disturbing hip motions.
As I was making my rounds from dance floor to dance floor, looking for my elusive hottie, I began to notice that certain people did not fit in. Asians, blacks and Hispanics began popping up all over the place. If I’m attracted to Christian girls, does this work in reverse? Could it be that Jewish men are now a hot commodity? Are we this season’s new Prada? If so, maybe I’ll start practicing again and hit up a couple of services on the weekends.
It’s a good thing Jews do not believe in hell, or I might worry about that last joke.
Kutcher can be reached at jkutcher@campustimes.org.
