Tuesday, January 31, 2006

Gaygetz - Redux

My affinity for non kosher meat is wildly known and is perhaps best personified by the dog-eared copy of the Preppy Handbook placed above my desk. In my mind there really is nothing better then a cute boy in Madras shorts holding both a tennis racquet and a glass of scotch.
It so happened, however, that I recently found myself at party (cowboy themed - I dressed as Jake from Brokeback, natch) where upon a lovely lad with beautiful eyes took it upon himself to hit on me. He was kinda like Rama 2.0 - cute, small, toned, with exceptionally pretty eyes. The lad, is an actual mentsch, as in he went to Jewish camp, had an outrageous over-the-top bar-mitzvah, and grandparents live in Florida. On this particular evening the two of us took it upon ourselves to discuss the finer points of growing up gay and in the Faux Hill, to quote, "Jewish sleepover camp: breeding ground for the young homosexual." I found myself surprisingly smitten.
There was something oddly comforting in our flirtation, something that harkened back to a comment by Sim Sim Sima, "your father used to date non-Jewish nurses; at the end of the day, he knew what type of wife he wanted. You always want to stick with what you know. And what you know is kosher meat." I'm paraphrasing her; fine I added meat comment, so sue me.
I began to question my attraction to the Gaygetz, was it all simply boyish whims and emotional immaturity? Would I, at the end of my twenties, find myself looking for love over blintze's, copulating with a Jewish Doctah and fretting about the colour scheme for our milk and meat plates?
The evening's catch, Josh, was at first the perfect mix of Gaygetz and Yid. He even went to Neuchatel, the same waspy private prep school that once harbored such past boyfriends as the MBomb, [this thought made me do a little bit of mathematics: 80 students a year go to Neuchatel. Approximately 35 are boys, of those 3 must be gay. Out of the two years that the MBomb and Josh attended I assumed that there would have to be about six faygeleh's. I've now attracted 2/6... considering I haven't even met the other four my Neuchi batting average is pretty fucking sweet.] But I digress...
As we chatted I thought maybe Josh was less affected then other neighbourhoud Faux Hillary's; maybe we could wear matching Faux Hill t-shirts and make sarcastic comments together about Uggs. Even more importantly Josh was doing his master's in something that didn't involve Law School, a surprise for a Faux Hill yeled, maybe he had enough Gaygetz in him fo me to appreciate. Perhaps it was time, I thought, to put a posting my proverabial posting on Jdate [Which had recently come out of the closet and begun to welcome boy on boy Jewish action] and hook up with an actual Yid.
By the end of the night though the Gaygetz treaty held true, I was no longer attracted to Josh, who had excused himself to one of those very Jewish, camp oriented house parties that I had never gone to, and I realized that my affection was merely misplaced on his waspy nose and not his kosher meat. Sim Sim Sima is right, I want what I know and what I know is non kosher.
I've found a new muse: http://waspdate.blogspot.com/

Friday, January 27, 2006

In on the Joke

The purpose of this blog was to recount various tales from the heartland of the Faux Hill. For a while such tales had dried up... it was winter and there is only so much I can say about Uggs that hasn't already been said at this point. Yoga moms generally run from pilates to Starbucks to SUV's without stopping to chat. Bubbie's and Zaidie's head to Florida. I even found myself busy at my ridiculously sycophantic job in media. Trust me it isn't cool.
Alas! Christmas break happened and I ran into one of "those girls" (Uggs, Louis, odd Jewish accent, copious amounts of Jewish studies classes on the transcript). My run in with Lindsay fullfilled my seasonal tale of Faux Hill-arity. Truthfully I sorta like Lindsay even if she looks and acts like every other classic Faux Hillary. We've always had a good on campus conversation relationship: "Finals... ew." Lindsay is also a bit more interesting then the rest of her pack of besties, she has a nice boyfriend who studies Peace and Conflict Studies at NYU. He is ridiculously attractive and has that sorta Montreal Jewish Male (is he gay? vibe...). Trust me, Montreal Jewish Males (MJM's) = mama's boys = at least 15% gay. And hence when my mother tells me she has a nice Jewish Dr she wants me to meet in Monteral I shudder and think of his baggage.
But I digress... I ran into Lindsay as I was going to hang out with the Jockular boyfriend (oh right, somewhere along the way I picked up a MAN as a boyfriend, like a big beefy man who raps) while Linds and her sexually ambiguous boyfriend were leaving EdoKo (overpriced sushi for Village rats). It was quite the reunion tour for all involved.
"Oh my god! How are you!" Exclamation points ad nausesum...
I of course wanted to know about her time at Law School. [See my posting on the Law School Disease as to why this is most classic situation ever.]
But unlike most of her sister's Jessica had bucked the Osgoode trend in order to study at some mid-westnern state school. She regaled me with tales of Abercrombie clad frat boys from Virginia and Oklahoma who for some reason found her hilarious and, eyebrows raised, "quite the individual." As she said this she laughed and guffawed, "Me? An Individual? Are they serious? I mean look at me... I'm a carbon copy of every other girl around here." She continued,"So I suggested maybe a class trip. If they think I'm so special I figure I'll take them to Forest Hill, where there's gotta be like five thousand of us. An army of us in fact." I pictured said army, "back off, we'll hit you - with our Louis Vuitton clutch purses."
As we said our goodbyes, "kissses!" I realized why I had always given Lindsay more credit then most. If you're going to be a stereotype, at least get in on the joke.