This weekend I went to New York to see Katie Hudson dance her tush off and celebrate the birth of three friends at a “Roaring 20’s” themed party, complete with silent films, strings of pearls, and one giant gin bucket.
When I go to New York, I know I’m going to be out late. It’s not that I can’t do it, it’s just not something I’m used to. Here in Philly, when the bars close at 2AM, I go to bed. All day Saturday I prepped myself with this mantra: “Five AM, Five AM, Tonight You’ll Be Awake til 5AM!” Not very clever, but it worked. I didn’t get sleepy or anything, and Maddie patted me on the back for closing the bar down.
After the “Roaring 20’s” the crew headed to Good Co., which is apparently Jill Haney’s favorite bar in Williamsburg, and I can see why. There was a large space for dancing, it wasn’t too crowded, and the DJs were playing hip hop tunes from our adolescence. I had been sitting in the “couples corner” for awhile where people were either crying, talking quietly or falling asleep (I was a little tired, whatever) but then the DJ started playing some bangin’ 90s hit and I strolled over the the dance floor. The group got down to some good jams. The bar flashed their lights. It was 3:45AM, last call.
I went to grab my coat and some guy took it out of my hand and put it back on the table.
“I’ve been making eyes at you all night. I couldn’t get your attention. What’s your name?”
“I’m Ben. Are you from here?”
Ben took my hand before I could say anything else and put his arm around my waist and spun me around in a circle. The DJ switched moods from R&B to M83. I was fancy dancing with a strange, soft, weird dude whose appearance screamed NEB.
Here, listen to this song to help you understand.
I looked at Chris Rizzo over Ben’s shoulder and gave him a look that clearly said, “Save me.” He didn’t. He laughed instead. Happy Birthday, Chris.
Ben asked me some more questions but I really couldn’t hear him. No one on the dance floor was dancing. “Midnight City” finally ended and I said, “Okaythankshaveagoodnight.” I turned to get my coat.
Then, right before he walked away, almost sneakily, like he had a secret that he wanted to tell so badly or maybe like he had something enticing to share he goes,
He left to go back to his friends and I sat down immediately.
I was pissed. I stood up and found Maddie. “Can you believe that?” I asked her. She couldn’t. The bartenders kicked us out and a group gathered around the door. “I’m going to say something. I have to say something.” She nodded. “Do it.”
I waited for Ben and his friends to get outside. They were the last ones to leave.
“Hey,” I said. “What was that?”
“You pegged me for being a Jew from across the bar and made it your mission to come after me?”
“I mean…well, yeah. Aren’t your parents always on your back about bringing home a Jewish guy?”
“No. I live with my boyfriend. And he’s not Jewish.”
He looked embarrassed. “Well, my parents are. Grandparents too. They’re straight from Poland. I could never bring home a girl that wasn’t Jewish.”
“Well I’m sorry, but I think it’s weird that you told me you were Jewish when obviously nothing was going to happen between us. Did you think that was going to reel me in or something?”
“I’m sorry, I’ve been drinking since 9PM.”
“Are you on J Date?”
“No, online dating is weird.” And hunting bars for Jewish girls isn’t?
He apologized again. Maddie approached us, all business. “Are we done here?” We got in a cab. Maddie gave me her feather boa and wrapped it around my neck. “Here,” she said, “this will make you feel like a sexy bitch.”
Weirdly enough, I stumbled upon this at work today. It’s an App that uses location-based technology to find Jewish singles who are nearby. It’s like “Grindr, but for Jews. “
And so, Ben, wherever you may be, I hope Yenta helps you get some hot Jewey action next time you’re leaving the bar at 4am. You’ve got nothing to lose, right? (I wonder if bubbe and zade would approve.)