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/
t prep in a rather popcorn-esque fashion as nouveau suburbanized Jews form country clubs and "have their noses fixed". In one particularly telling scene Roth describes the family's bar stocked with the best bottles of whiskey and champagne, all unopened of course (because in emulating the landed Gentry... we Jews don't drink - note the absence of a bar in Faux Hill - it's like prohibition here).
