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Jewish Singles: The Anti-Semite

If you are single, like me, you’ve most likely experienced a myriad of horror stories by this point.  You’ve dated the guy who talks with his mouth full, the beautiful man with the terrible personality, the ugly man who’s extremely nice to you, the Mr. Perfect who’s just not ready to settle down, and someone named Steve.  Everyone has dated someone named Steve.  Even straight men, at some point, I’m sure.  Steve’s have a way of sneaking up on you.

I met my Steve at a cookie store at two in the morning while getting a late night snack.  I asked him what flavor he was getting.  Chocolate chip.  I love chocolate chip.  I decided we were destined to be together.

Perhaps it was the flavor preference, perhaps it was the romantic 2 am atmosphere, or perhaps it was the fact that he had dreamy eyes like that guy from ‘Cheers.’ No no, not that guy.  The other one.  The cute one.  Yea, that one.

He wrote his number down on a napkin and told me to call.  The napkin sat on my dresser staring at me for three days.

“You should call,” it suggested.

“No, that’s okay.”

“Look at you.  You’re clearly not doing anything.”

“Yes I am, I’m talking to a napkin.”

“…Call him.”

So I did.  And one date led to two, and two dates led to three, and on the third date he shuffled about awkwardly and leaned in for a kiss.

We kiss.

A lot.

We pull away and he tells me how much he likes me, how he doesn’t want me seeing anyone else, how it was destiny that we should find each other in the cookie store and how Jesus meant for us to be together.

It was the perfect first kiss.  But it was just that, the first kiss.  The very first kiss.  I was no where near ready to label it as anything yet.  We barely knew each other, made clear by the fact that he seemed to think Jesus had some kind of deciding factor on my love life.

“Well, I don’t know…” I  said playfully, “I talked to God and he seemed to think we should just be casually dating.”

I hadn’t actually consulted with anyone on the matter, but the napkin seemed to think it was a good idea.

He looked confused.  “Jesus is God.”

I shrugged, “Right, well, for some people.”


“Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your lord and savior?”

“No…But I think we might be Facebook friends.”

Nothing.  Apparently this was not something to be kidding around about.  Jesus takes his Facebook page very seriously.

“So you’re a heathen?”

“No….I’m just Jewish.”

At that moment it seemed clear that Steve and I were not going to be compatible.  We had different taste in movies, television shows, and music.   He was a Taurus, I was an Aquarius.  He voted republican, I voted democrat.  And also he thought I was the Anti-Christ.

Oh, well.  Other Jesus fish in the sea.

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