Date Me: A 2-Part Bohemigrant Special

Help me. I’ve got a problem…. Mencken said there were 2 things that ruin a writer: women and drink. As an evolved, 21^st-century man I take issue with the former (though a dash of truth is undeniable), and readily admit the latter. Contemporary life offers many vices besides: the Internet, video games, pornography and, of course, the classics remain: gambling, sex, and drugs. To date, we can’t resist temptation’s soothing hold. Compulsions, addictions, and bad habits will survive the corrosion of the ozone and the Rapture.

A far more dangerous menace has us in its infernal paws. The wicked lure of JDate, most diabolical and unholy, forged by the elders on Mt. Zion’s summit, is now my bane… One day, stewing in a post-cannobial stupor, I clicked the payment button and became what the J-gods term a “Premium Member,” a new world opened up to me. A world of bleach-blonde, cliché-spouting Jewesses from every corner of Nassau, Suffolk, and North Jersey. A veritable harem of degree-wielding JAPs, a few marriage-minded Russian professionals thrown in for good measure.

Unbeknownst to me, romance has become a hodgepodge of formulaic truisms dull and facile enough to make Dr. Phil swallow his own vomit. Any number of Jewish, mixed, and even gentile (they learn quick) speech pathologists, PR assistants, schoolteachers, lawyers-in-training, and non-profiters beckon with comely photos, immaculate profiles, and totally reasonable pre-reqs. Who doesn’t love a sense of humor? Equally comfortable staying in with a book of poetry as they were shaking their milkshake at the club, these ladies are fond of fine art, sports, extreme adventure, quiet moments by the fireplace, and super-quirky weekend jaunts to Peru. More than enough to send a young man’s heart racing in romantic anticipation…