Eddie gives me his business card. “Call me,” he says.
This was unexpected. Somehow guys seem to sense that I’m like an urban Dalai Lama. They don’t come on to me often (unless drunk) even on FB. But the latter might have to do with having a profile picture that says, “Kindness is the cure” or “We love refugees.”
On the other hand, I have a friend who never posts pictures of herself, only of beautiful scenery. Still, guys on FB tell her that she is stunning and that they have fallen in love with her. Many even offer to fly across the world just to meet her.
Being a regular at Movieing, my favorite café, I chat with everyone. No business cards involved. Occasionally someone says, “Write down my phone number.” Or, “Come over to my apartment.”
“But why?” I ask. “We always see each other here anyway.” I guess no guy wants to explain why, and that’s the end of it.
The same goes for Eddie who is also a regular. Instead of “Call me,” he might as well say, “Let’s mate” or “Let’s reproduce,” which also includes mating (or the sperm bank). Maybe he’d rather say, “Let’s see if we are romantically compatible.” But that’s less likely. Either way, I’m a nun. Who wants to have to discuss that with a stranger?
Although it did come up with a drunk guy who came on to me yesterday. I bet he recalls nothing. Not that there’s much to recall.
“I’m a nun,” I said.
“It can’t be true,” he said repeatedly.
I get that a lot.
People take appearances too seriously, which brings up my friend Frank.
“Saying hello from East Germany,” was Frank’s first FB message. In his profile picture, he was sitting by a pool in a bathing suit, a gorgeous guy with a friendly smile. We started to chat and didn’t stop for three years.
His initial profile picture was probably taken two decades ago. In more recent pictures, his hair wasn’t black. It was red. But hey, I also dyed my hair red once. It actually looked pretty hot.
Then he posted pictures of himself and his best friend. The body language said, “We are a couple.” I invited both of them to Tel Aviv. He invited me to East Germany. It was never simply “Germany.”
Now I’m glad I didn’t go. He probably would have locked me in a cellar and tried to get state secrets out of me.
For me, friendship is forever: a life of love and loyalty. True, my first best friend joined forces with the class’s evil queen. I lost the only supporter I had for my plan to rescue our out-of-control class along with the world in general, winning the cutest boy’s heart in the process.
Like a female James Bond.
There were others after her. But I don’t harbor bad feelings.
Frank wanted me to send him pictures of the park I meditate in. Maybe he thought that “meditation” was a code name for my nocturnal meetings with the head of the Mossad.
Why else in a political debate we had, would he have accused me of being a Mossad agent?
Shocked, I looked at his timeline and saw new information there. He was no longer a Conflict Resolution Consultant (which he seemed pretty good at, judging by his past advice to me). Instead, he’d finished some Russian military academy with honors.
Then he blocked me.
But you know what? For three years, Frank was a great friend.
As for Eddie, once he gets over the business-card shtick, I’m sure we’ll become great friends as well.
Either way, no matter the heartbreaks, love always wins…because it never leaves my heart.