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The Muffin Man Act I Scene II


I decide to go out with the Muffin Man (who I met on JDate) for a second date.   No, I am not a Masochist. I just wonder if it’s me. Am I too picky?  Why am I a “one date wonder”? He e-mailed me. He’s interested, how bad can it be? Maybe he was just nervous on the first date… We arrange to meet at a nice restaurant in the city. At least I’ll have a nice meal…

The bar is full. Not one seat open. Fail. Oh, there’s the Muffin Man.  Mr. Muffin has a seat at the bar. I walk over and say hello. He asks if I would like something to drink. “Sure I’ll have a glass of Cabernet”,  I say.  He does not offer me his seat. Awkward. I steady my purse, on the crook of one arm, while trying to hold the napkin and wine he has clumsily shoved at me. I can’t even take off my coat during this balancing act. Finally the man next to my date offers me his seat. I smile sweetly as I decline. “I enjoy standing”, I say. Hindsight, the correct answer should have been” Thank you it’s so nice to see a REAL gentleman”. Mercifully the hostess came, our table was ready.

I can finally take off my coat. I’m wearing a cute grey dress and some fabulous black high heel boots. I notice a few men glance in our direction. Yes, I am making the Muffin Man look good. I think he is oblivious though. Oh well. We discuss the ride here, traffic and the weather. Freakin’ fascinating.  He then asks, “Do you know why it’s strange there is a sports team called Utah Jazz? They were originally the New Orleans Jazz before their relocation.”

“That’s interesting, but I don’t really follow football.”  I found out later that the “jazz” team is basketball. He then told me all about the “Cardinals” who moved from Chicago to St. Louis and, finally, to Phoenix. All while keeping their name. “Umm, I really don‘t follow football”, I said again with a smile. He must not have understood me because he continued to ramble about which sports teams have relocated; I think he listed seven or more.  I couldn’t care less. My mind wanders. I feel he is socially awkward, I have now diagnosed him with Asperger’s disorder (an autism spectrum disorder that is characterized by significant difficulties in social interaction, alongside restricted and repetitive patterns of behavior and interests). It’s a big possibility. He is now rambling about retractable domes, and which stadiums have them. You lost me at “cardinals”…

My veal is excellent. I try to discuss food, the resturant… any common ground… What was it his other dates told him? That’s right… no chemistry!  I’ve got your chemistry… mix orange flavor vodka and a splash of cranberry to endure this evening! Finally! Dinner is done, we have the check, and this painfully boring, lifeless, mundane date is over!

We walk outside. He asks me where I am parked. I used the valet. He tells me he is around the corner, he’ll call me….and then, he LEAVES. YES LEAVES! I don’t know where the valet guy is. It’s cold and dark and my date has left me alone on the city street AGAIN! Who does that! The audacity! I have never had someone be so rude. Is he just that ignorant? Even friends make sure everyone is in their cars and the cars are started!

You want to talk football? Here’s your football, I am throwing in a “penalty flag” for bad manners! There won’t be a rematch! My defense is unstoppable. There will be no scoring on this field! Too bad for the Muffin Man! My offence is pretty solid too. I’ve heard I have a nice tight end! Humph!  He has been benched, taken out of the game! So run, run, run, just as fast as you can! You won’t catch me Mr. Muffin Man!

Do You Know the Muffin Man?


My J Date membership may have paid off. I got an e-mail from a 43-year-old good-looking guy. Seemed intelligent, very well-travelled, extremely into health and fitness, good job… we did the back and forth e-mail thing. Of course he doesn’t live within a 25 mile radius of me, we have already established there are no eligible Jews in my area. He lives about an hour and a half away. I agree to meet him half way. He picks a very nice seafood restaurant. I’m impressed and a little excited.

Cute “red date sweater”, sexy shoes, hair, make up… I look good. Drive the 45 min. A little nervous. I always try to show up 15 min early so I can get my wine and relax a bit. Ugh, it was kind of hard to find the place, even with GPS. Parking was even  tougher. But I made it!  I walk into the restaurant and head to the bar.

Fail. He was there first. Oh and ummm I think he’s aged 10 years and thirty pounds since his last picture. What’s up with that? Not that I have anything against a receding hairline (I actually think bald is sexy) it just wasn’t receding in any of the pictures…  And I’m not sure how he’s running those marathons or climbing mountains with that extra weight. There is no way he works out 5 times a week. He’s not fat. Just soft and mushy around the middle- in fact it’s kind of like a sloppy muffin top. Not a beer belly. A muffin top. I don’t think I’ve seen a muffin top on a man before, just teenage girls who wear their pants too tight.  Odd, but I’m not dating just for looks. His profile was interesting. I was intrigued with his e-mails, he seemed cool.  So he’s using and old picture- not a crime. We say hello and grab a table.

Small talk. Driving. Traffic. Work. Yawn. What I thought were cool one sentence answers through e-mail, now translates to boring and dull in person. In reality he had the personality of Matzoh. That dry Jewish holiday cracker that should have been left in Egypt when that shit didn’t rise, and now we are forced to eat it on Passover.

Conversation was getting strained… I was trying…. He told me he that was never married, came close once, but thought there might be better out there. Dumped her, has regretted it ever since and tries to measure everyone up to her. Really? Ok soo he’s a commitmentphobe who sets everyone up for failure. Fun. He did have two dates with a girl six years ago. Wow! Six years ago! Since then the rest of the girls have told him there was no chemistry. Really? No kidding!!! I wasted good hair and my “red date sweater” for this????  Well, the salmon was good. It’s late. I’m done.

We go to leave the restaurant. As we exit I turn to go to the right and he starts to go to the left. I laugh and tell him I’m parked over this way around the corner, in the alley next to the bar. He said “Oh, ok, goodbye”, gave me an awkward hug, and walked away… he didn’t even walk me to my car… All the Non-Jews have walked me to my car. I am insulted. The one Jewish guy- not walking me to my car? I told him it was in an alley. Really ? Humph! My mother would say not a mensch!

*Mensch (Yiddish: מענטש mentsh, from German: Mensch “human being”) means a person of integrity and honor.

Another fail? Come on?  Am I destined to be a “One-Date-Wonder”? This dating could make me meshuggeneh!

Meshuggeneh – (Yiddish) a crazy fool

DO WE HAVE TO KISS FROGS???


I was telling my parents about my Match.com dates. My mother asked me why I wasn’t “doing J Date”. I know J Date is for Jewish singles, but how does my mother know this?  Of course… some of her Mahjong friends date. “You know, Jewish men make good providers”, she tells me- like she’s never said it before.

I’m Jewish. I consider myself “Jewish-Lite” kind of like Bud-Lite. One of my brothers says he’s a “Recovering Jew”. My mother insists we are “Culturally Jewish”.  All translate to being Jews but not so much religious…  My ex was Catholic. In fact I have never even dated anyone Jewish. Unless you count the 6th grade- we had ice cream or my “coffee date”.  Not that I am against dating Jewish. The area in which I live is not heavily populated with Jews.

So, I decided to try J Date. But I’ve already paid for 6 months of Match.com.  Now I have to pay for J Date? Not that I’m being cheap or anything… Look it’s on sale! HALF OFF!!! Such a deal! I have to join! I’m so proud! Why am I suddenly typing with a New York Jewish accent? I sound like Barbra Streisand in my head! OY VEY! It’s on sale… I buy… I date… If only I had a Shadchen — Matchmaker. This is the correct Yiddish term, not Yenta. A Yenta is just a talkative, gossipy woman.

I sign up. Not very creative,  I copy and paste my Match profile. Being in my forties I’ll date 40-55. I don’t want to have children yadda, yadda, yadda… Put up the cute pics of me and enter…

Ok, in a 25 mile radius of my home there are 4 Jews. Yup 4! Oh and there’s my coffee date guy.  So 3 Jews I haven’t had coffee with. And can I say they are ummm… let’s see… how do I say it…. Ummm  not so attractive? Yea there ya go! Great! Shut off the computer and go to bed. #FAIL !

But low and behold the next morning I check my J Date.  64 people viewed me!  E mail: 11, flirted with me: 7 (that is equivalent to the Match “wink”),  favorite me: 4, put me on their hot list: 3.  Wow I’ve got some action. Whoo whoo!  How bad can this be? It has been less than 24 hours! Let’s check out what this Jewish princess is reeling in!

So I look. Oh. Um. Oh. Let’s see. A Doctor. This picture is not soo bad. Oh, that’s because it was taken when he went to Harvard… around 40 years ago! Hello??? Did you read my profile? I am not looking for someone in their 70’s… oh and look most recent photo… yes he looks like Gene Shalit. There’s a match- not.

Well we know there is no one in a 25 mile radius of where I live. But could we stay in New England (that’s where I live)? Wow I have Tel Aviv, NY, CA, Canada! Really? My profile says 25 miles from my zip code. Do they not know Geography? Maybe they don’t need to- they make good providers! How about age? Never mind the 60 and 70 year olds. I have a 28-year-old from Brooklyn, NY, a 27-year-old from Poland (now that’s a long distance relationship- what am I supposed to read him bed time stories over the phone?), and a 32-year-old from N Hollywood, CA. I have to say no when they are closer to my daughter’s age then mine. Not a cougar. My favorite?? The guy from Flushing, NY. He looks like a Rabbi, beard and all. I quickly copy and paste his pic and Gene’s pic to an email and send it to my mother with the note “thanx for having me join J Date. Which one do you want for your future son-in-law?”

She resplied “sometimes you have to kiss a lot of frogs…” Thanks Mom.

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