Sunday, December 6, 2009

"Does JDate Work in Israel?"

(Yes, once again, this is NOT really for family. Or friends who think I don’t have sex - however infrequently it may occur. Read at your own risk)

Five years ago, almost exactly to the day I went to Israel for the first time. I wanted to go for decades, but I didn’t have any friends or family there. And there never seemed like a good time to go. But all of a sudden, I was getting kicked out of my apartment in NY because they were demolishing the building I was living in. So… that seemed like a sign from God.

Now I actually thought it was a sign from God to move to Los Angeles and become a TV writer. But five years later, I find myself no further along in my career than to be the Writers’ Assistant on a new kids show for the Disney Channel. So, clearly that was not GOD who was talking to me.

But I did go to the Holy Land as soon as I left my pad. And I know when you travel to a foreign country, you’re never really going to see the place unless you have locals showing you around. So, I came up with a clever ploy to meet locals. And the ploy was this.

Sign up on JDate.

Now, I’ve dated online for years and I’m Jewish AND I want to meet and marry a Jewish woman, BUT I didn’t think I wanted to meet the kind of woman I’d find on JDate. So I’d always assiduously avoided it in the past. But this was different. I wasn’t looking for a lover…just a tour guide to show me the cool bars and restaurants.

To my amazement, it worked. On my second night there, I met G– an exotic, intelligent, Iraqi-Israeli beauty. She was even a PhD - a shrink, in fact. She took me to a cool restaurant in the Old Port which I never otherwise would have found. And after the dinner, we sensed this chemistry so while it wasn’t my objective going into this, we kissed. And it was great.

So I saw her again the next night. And the night after that, I checked out of my hostel and I moved in with her.

Now, she wasn’t just beautiful. She was sexy. And she did this thing in bed, where instead of talking dirty or moaning in a way I was accustomed to, she would actually say, “Ow. Ow. Ow! Ow!” Like she kept repeatedly stubbing her toe or something. At first, I thought I was actually hurting her, but I soon realized this was just how she expressed excitement. And I found it an incredible turn-on. Somehow it fed the inner sadist in me that I’ve never really let myself explore.

There was this one girl I dated just before I went to Israel who always wanted me to slap her in the face just before she came. But, frankly, I was never comfortable with that. Of course, I didn’t want her to think I was judging her, so I submitted to the request. But I didn’t really enjoy it. Come to think of it, my enjoyment probably wasn’t the focus.


So every morning, I’d go out and explore Tel Aviv and every night I’d come home and make G- go “Ow!” But after a week of this, I realized I haven’t seen any of the rest of the country and that’s why I’d flown halfway around the world. So I told her I had to go, and she said (in that insanely sexy Israeli accent):

“Why do you want to see the rest of the country? There’s nothing to see.”

I told her she was probably right, but I had to find that out for myself.

So I went north to Caesarea and I’m tromping around these Roman ruins for two days when she calls me and says she’s coming back from a business trip in Haifa and she’ll be passing right by me. Would I like her to pick me up and take me home with her.

And I can’t resist.

That night I write in my journal, “Looks like G- is kidnapping me back to Tel Aviv! I may never see the rest of this country.”

Two wonderful days later, I tell her now I really have to go, but I’ll come back earlier than I planned, just to see her for a few days before I leave the country. She’s disappointed, but she says OK.

I come back exactly when I say I will and I call her up to figure out where to meet her, but she doesn’t call me back. I get into town and she still hasn’t responded. I check into the old hostel. I go from confused to upset to concerned. Four days go by. She finally calls and says she’s furious with me, which is why she hasn’t called me back. I say “What did I do. I don’t understand.” And she won’t tell me, but I convince her to meet me for a drink one last time before I leave, so she can explain, and I can apologize…for what I wasn’t sure.

So we sit down and she is smoldering. And she confesses to me that she read my journal just before I left. And I think, “Oh man, there are so many things she might have been upset about. I mean, this is my most personal space. I wrote down all my twisted little thoughts in there.” But I wasn’t sure which thing to apologize for.

In retrospect, I couldn’t believe I was thinking of apologizing to her when she’d violated my privacy like that. And she’s a shrink no less.

Then she tells me she read that I felt I was being kidnapped by her. Clearly, I didn’t even really want to spend any time with her.

And I started laughing. I tried to explain that this was all a huge misunderstanding. “This is the good kind of kidnapping, the kind you hope and pray for.” It took me two glasses of wine, but finally I think I convinced her that really was the truth.

So I walk her back to her car and we start kissing. Suddenly, she stops me and says, “You’re not coming back to my place.” I say, OK. And we continue kissing right in the parking lot. And it gets passionate. She starts nibbling my ear and whispers to me “Don’t rape me.”

I figure I must have misunderstood, and I say “What?”

She speaks more loudly this time and emphatically begs, “Please. Don’t rape me.”

And I think. “God. No, no, no. I would never. I mean, I know no means no.” And then I realize, she was giving me instructions - in reverse.

This was her little rape fantasy and she was intent on getting me into it.

So I dig into my inner Neanderthal and I spin her around. I pull down her pants to mid-thigh, and right in the parking lot, where anyone could walk by and see us at any moment, I start taking her from behind - pressing her up against her own car and having my way with her. And as she’s “Ow”-ing and “Yes! Please don’t rape me”-ing away, I just grab her by the hair and whisper violently into her ear:

“This’ll teach you a lesson. Don’t you ever read someone else’s journal, you little Israeli whore.”

And with that, she came.

She smiled kissed me good night. Said she'd miss me and drove out of my life.

She was a kinky girl with terrible communication skills, especially for a shrink, but I suppose we both got what we wanted.

And in the end I was taught the lesson. It seems I was wrong about JDate after all.


I was thinking of this story 5 years after it happened because just a few months before writing it down, I visited Israel for the first time since this night described. I wanted to see G- and called her. She was delighted to hear from me.

I told her I was wary of calling because I figured she might be married with kids now.

She said I was half right, that she was married and... I was the reason why. She said she couldn't wait to have dinner with me to explain.

A few days later we sat down for dinner and explained that the night after we'd met 5 years earlier I'd asked her if she had a shrink and joked that I guess she'd be talking about me in her next session. She said no. Why would she. I said doesn't she talk about dating and sex with her shrink. She said no. I found that odd and it stuck in her mind.

So after I left town she asked her shrink why they never talked about sex. He said, no reason. Let's talk about it. Shortly thereafter, they're having sex. Then get into a serious relationship and move in together. But they realize they have nothing in common, so they start taking a martial arts class so they have something to share. In the process she falls in love with her sensai (see a pattern?)

And they got married! And they're happy as clams.

And she credits me with inspiring her down this path.

We had such a great time re-connecting. Hopefully I'll see her and her kids the next time I return to Israel.


  1. What is it about you and parking lots?

  2. I was thinking that just yesterday. Weird, huh? I don't think I have any other good parking lot stories though.

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