Confessions of A Naughty Girl

I Do Not Shack With Yids

It's pretty well-known among Jews in Atlanta that Christmas Eve is the biggest party night of the year. Each year, there's a "Bagel Bash" that night that is like the U.N. Convention of Single Jewish People Everywhere In Atlanta. This year was the first year I was actually in town to attend to set my FAMOT record.

My FAMOT, in case you are not familiar, is short for "Find A Member of the Tribe". It's a little game I play - mainly to satisfy my parents - where I attend (miserably) a few sponsored events a year in the most feeble and lame attempt to meet a fellow Jew that I can muster. Last year, I attended two, and lived to tell. So this year, I aimed for a historical record of 3 (yes, THREE!) events!

The truth is, I'm not religious, and while I've always thought that it'd be a much easier situation to marry someone of the same religion, I've come to realize that love doesn't always come pre-packaged. I'm a numbers girl and I know the odds. Who am I to buck a good thing just because we don't share the same religion?

Nevertheless, my parents have always expressed that while they're first priority is my happiness, there would be some degree of "disappointment" should I not marry within my faith. While I love and respect my parents, I also know that they tend to use the same verbage (aka "disappointment") when the rates for the sushi all-you-can-eat buffet increase, so I keep this in perspective while on my quest to find a soul mate.

I'm not exactly sure why these events are always so miserable for me, but they are. I think it might be due to this sort of forced awkwardness everyone feels. It's not like being out at a regular bar. At a regular bar, people are out with friends, without friends, for various reasons that don't always entail romantic hopes. The FAMOT events are a veritable Kosher meat market, my friends, and I am the first to admit that I feel uncomfortable having my corned beef on display. I feel like I set myself up in a corner with a drink and watch the guys window shop, and that's not a pleasant feeling.

Anyway, so I attended this event with two girlfriends who are in similar situations - situations where Jewish guys tend to evade us, whether that's due to a lack of attraction or circumstance to get acquainted. So what better way to prove to our parents (and ourselves) that we can attract these guys than to get out there and meet fellow Bagel Bashers, right?

Most of the night was spent "wandering around" and "checking things out", but towards the end, after an embarrassing number of Jack and Cokes, I wandered the room only to bump directly into a very cute, 6'2" guy who smiled at me and announced that he had previously been stuffing his face with entirely too many bagels. Having known to stuff myself with bagels, I felt immediately at ease.

One thing led to another, and we shacked.

Thank you, Santa!

It was only when I awoke yesterday morning to his voice saying, "I should really drop you off soon or I'm going to be late for Christmas with my parents."

GASP.

Christmas? Parents? WHAT?!

I was totally duped.

Where are my pants?

Apparently, it ain't just the Jews that want to party. If you're young, and single, and you live in Atlanta and don't happen to celebrate Christmas the night of Christmas Eve, you've also heard about Bagel Bash and likely plan to attend because it's pretty much the only bar open that night. And while nobody quizzes you on the Old Testament or checks for your date of bar mitzvah on your ID, the fact is this - if you're not a Jewish Bagel Basher, you are a...Bagel Crasher.

It would just figure that my shacking laser beam would lead me to seek out one of the few Bagel Crashers and allow him to entice me to his lair. Of course, OF COURSE - I find the one guy who reads Ecclesiastes in his spare time (exaggeration) and drives a Mustang with an engine larger than Rosie O'Donnell's appetite (true) appealing. It just figures.

At any rate, I was at a complete loss when my mother asked me how the party was yesterday, namely because I did not want to elaborate on my shacking experience, or the fact that he kept a giant roll of toilet paper on his nightstand, which made me question how often he hangs out with his hands-on friends Fingula and Awristula, and why he's so cheap he can't at least spare anyone and buy actual tissues. I also just couldn't admit that I am a failure at FAMOT events and cannot go without being miserable or meeting someone completely inappropriate.

But there are two good things that came out of this - 1. I ate all the bagels-and-lox my body could handle, and they even had a little dish out with capers, which are the most delicious bits of pickley goodness I can possibly imagine; 2. I successfully attended three events this year - more than enough to compensate for the fact that if I ever do go to one of these things again, I think a new laser beam might be in order.

posted by KA @ 10:33 AM