And John may well have a point. And clever to boot. And we had been on two extremely encouraging dates before the start of the fun and games. Will call you. Just to be one hundred percent that my intuition is correct — I know that I will not be able to cope with the teasing thought that that body, skin and hair and, of course, mind might, just might. The following morning, I receive an e-mail from J containing the exact same excuses. Or excuses. Or promises of phone calls. As usual, I search for possible reasons for this latest failure.
I ponder, for example, whether having been bolder, more forthright, more Israeli, and having made a move in the second date tapas bar might, just might, have paid dividends. Most Israeli guys would have in the first date pub. They most like what they are used to. There is little, however, to be gained from idle speculation or self-flagellation.
But why is it so damn difficult to meet a nice, genuine, uncomplicated woman in this city? Yes, yes you slaves to your therapists , I know : I must take my share of the responsibility. It must be my fault, too. And sometimes it is. Finding attractive women in Tel Aviv is, of course, not a problem. The empirical evidence, however, can be more than a little misleading. And dating Israeli women, while often enjoyable, even memorable, rarely comes — for the non-native, at least — without substantial challenges, stresses and aggravation.
Indeed, the lure of more attractive, hotter blooded females — accompanied, as it usually is, with better, more frequent, and certainly swifter as in earlier, rather than shorter rumpy-pumpy — is offset by behaviour that can range from the puzzling to the downright objectionable. This is even truer of Israeli women than of the fairer [snort! From inappropriate, even outrageous, remarks and conversation on the date, to last minute and I mean minute!
Take any criticism levelled at you, but unless you are planning to dump them anyway avoid the temptation to give any back. I recently went out with a Rebecca, who, on our second date, and without warning, saw fit to pat the negligible protuberance from my t-shirt. Her face! What a picture! She looked like she had just swallowed a Beit Hashita hot pepper whole. Neither did Rebecca care for me asking her not to throw every scrap of food that she wanted to bin to Stuey and Dexxy instead, thus reducing her sorties to the garbage.
