I met a boy. He makes my socks roll up and down and little hearts come out of my eyes. I'm so used to being disappointed by the guys I meet, I'm not quite sure what to do with this new emotion.
Of course, there has to be a hitch in all of this. You didn't think that I would be able to find someone that I both liked and lusted after without some sort of cosmic ass-fuck (non-lubed). After dating every single eligible Jewish male between the ages of 30 and 42 in the tri-state area, I find a totally awesome Catholic transplant from Michigan. Yes, he's anything but Jewish. He's tall, he's blond, he has these piercing green eyes that can see right through you, and I believe you could grate cheese on his abs. *Deep sigh* God bless the goys.
He asked me the other day about meeting the parents and how soon that would happen depending on how well things go between us. I told him he had a better chance of meeting the Easter Bunny. He offered to convert. I offered to try to make it to a fifth date before we start changing religions. Hell, maybe even have sex before we attempt to torture each other with our respective families. (ahhh, sex....I need a minute, or ten.......................)
I'm just going to tell my mom his name is Shlomo. Shlomo Hiemowitzberg. What? You've never seen a six foot Jew? Well, now you have mom. Deal.