Single Jewish People Need More Alternatives?

So I found this in my Twitter feed the other day:

Not only am I disgusted that:

1. Someone actually took the time to write this for Time and got paid for it

2. An adorable dog was humiliated for the main photo

3. There are more overused Jewish puns in here than I have ever seen before

jewish dog

But the Jewish alternative for Tinder already exists. It’s called Coffee Meets Bagel*. It’s just as, if not even more ridiculous than this article.

*Okay so the Coffee Meets Bagel app is not specifically for Jewish people, but those are the only people who I have seen on there. It is basically the ugliest J-Date members on Facebook. If that’s your thing, then go for it!

My Favorite Screen Name and Message of the Year (thus far)

I’m so glad several people I know are now happily dating someone they met on It inspired me to rejoin the site (for what must be the 5th or 6th time) and garner messages like these:


He’s ripe for the picking, guys. You know where to find him. Let him know I sent ya!

I’m no Annie, but you’re no Tony Micelli: My Very First Online Blind Date

Anyone remember when there were no profile pictures available on dating sites, and that was kind of okay, because the Interwebs and everything it could possibly offer was very new? During that infancy, I went on one blind date with someone I met in some sort of single chat room…or something. I honestly don’t remember how we started talking, but we did and it was a great learning experience, so stop judging me.

Brian was a very new officer for the NYPD and I believe he had just graduated from the academy within the same year that we met. We spoke on the phone and decided to meet near my temp job at the time and go to the movies. ‘Cause…you know…a dark movie theater is a great place to get to know a stranger.

I remember getting out of work and being extremely attentive to every guy with brown hair and eyes who looked to be in my age range. I didn’t really know what Brian looked like other than hair and eye color, and that he was “built.” I must’ve looked really intense as I walked down the cold streets of the city toward our meeting spot, because a pretty attractive guy walked up to me smiling and I said, “Brian?” and he responded, “Nope.” WEIRD – was I imagining him walking up to me or was he just nuts? “Okay, sorry,” I sputtered awkwardly, as I kept walking.

I arrived at the front of the movie theater and there he was. George Costanza. He certainly had brown eyes and hair, but I had never seen someone who looked more like Jason Alexander to date. He was a little shorter, with bigger man-boobs. And he was definitely fit but the bulging chest muscles (aforementioned “man-boobs” were made of muscle) didn’t match up with anything else on his body. And I’m sorry but I’ve never found George to be attractive. With permanently crinkled eyes behind round glasses and a slight separation of his thin pasty lips, he confirmed that he was, indeed, Brian. Great.

After getting tickets for our movie, we went to a café to pass some time before it started. I specifically remember Brian telling me that since I told him my hair was very curly and reddish-brown, he thought I would resemble orphan Annie. He was disappointed that I didn’t resemble her, and he made that very clear. I apologized for not having short cheddar cheese-colored curls and causing such disillusionment, which didn’t seem to make either of us any more comfortable.


Brian’s dream date. How creepy.

Photo Credit:

We sat at the café, and thumbs up to Brian, who was bitter about my lack of banana curls, yet still attempted to make conversation. Each time he did this, his thin lips separated with a smacking sound and foam developed on the corners of his mouth. If that detail doesn’t turn you on, think about a body builder alternating his pec twitching to show off a unique physique. I specifically remember Tony Danza (aka: Tony Micelli) doing this on “Who’s the Boss” once in a while. To summarize, I was on my first ever online blind date and he looked like George Costanza enduring a mild seizure. I believe he thought he looked like a buff Italian guy like Tony Micelli who had the right to judge my appearance…but I’m only speculating.

A little while later, Brian and I sat in the movie theater and made some more small talk. It was during this time that Brian confessed that some of his buddies at the (police) academy mentioned that he somewhat resembles George Costanza.

No shit. I didn’t think you “resembled” him. I thought you literally were him.

But I didn’t say that. I feigned surprise and giggled a little bit and we moved forward.

Beyond the fact that I spent my very first online blind date with a Seinfeld caricature with a freakishly big chest and mouth foam, I have to also say that Patch Adams might be one of the worst movies of all time.

So it was a success all around.

Brian (posing with Judith Light):

micelli and costanza mix

Photo Credits:;

There’s Always Thumbelina

I was checking out a family friend’s Facebook photos one day and saw one with her and a good-looking guy smiling with their dogs. I knew she had been online dating for a bit so I inquired as to whether the guy in the photo was a new beau. Her eyes lit up. She said, “No, but I did meet him on J-Date! We have no chemistry, but we’ve become friends – you should go out with him!” A cute guy with a good job, who has and loves dogs? The next step was obviously to make the aforementioned family friend swear to me that nothing was overtly wrong with him. Once that was complete, we were in business.

His name was Adam and he gave me a call a few days later. He was great – very personable, and asked what I would like to eat on our upcoming dinner date. We chose a sushi restaurant in an area we could both get to fairly easily.

I was pretty nervous on my way to meet Adam in person. Rather than simply reading about and viewing some two-dimensional images, I had a real-life person vouching for him. I got all spruced up in jeans and a cute pair of boots with a small wedge heel on them. When asked, one of my roommates at the time that my appearance was acceptable, so I left, on my way to meet Adam.

We planned to meet in front of the restaurant which happened to be on the corner of two streets. From several feet away, I saw Adam’s cute face as he waited for me. Yet that cute face was attached to the body of a 10 year old boy. The (now familiar) alarms starting going off in my head, telling me that this guy was very VERY short but all I could do was smile as he turned in my direction and greet him once we were standing in front of one another. I consider myself a (relatively) very short person, which is why it was important to tell you what footwear I was wearing at the time. I specifically recall having to bend down to give Adam a hug. And from that point on, I was traumatized, but had to pretend that everything was fine (again).

Once we sat down, and I realized that Adam somehow didn’t require a highchair, we got along great. Well, that was until I ordered a glass of sake and he stuck with water. “Oh, you don’t drink alcohol?” I asked. He explained that he doesn’t really enjoy drinking, and never has. Obviously, I was wondering how that’s even possible internally, but on the outside, I kept the questions going. I asked if he goes out at all, to socialize, watch games, be around people – you know, perform recreational human activity as I see it – in some way. He said he does once in a while, but doesn’t really enjoy being at bars at all. He elaborated (if you want to call it that) by saying:

“Well I do go to them and I would go with you for a bit. But don’t worry I would be good once we got home.”


Excuse me? I didn’t understand what the hell he was talking about. He was a smart guy with a logical head on his shoulders until this subject came up. I was pretty sure he was telling me would be a great sex partner after going to a bar and not drinking – and was proud of that fact. All I could think of was munchkin foreplay and I got really disturbed.

I don’t think we hit another awkward topic during dinner after that, and Adam was nice enough to drive me home from the restaurant. Even with an SUV, he didn’t need pedal extensions. I know…I was surprised too.
And that was pretty much it. He was short and a little creepy even as a very sober little person, so I just wasn’t into him.

And I’m almost positive that that is the exact reason why he was very interested in me. I received a voicemail from him a day or two later that specifically said, “give me a call back when you get a chance, or I will call you later.” So I figured that since he said he would possibly call me again, I didn’t need to call him back. I thought that was logical.

Well, I never heard from Adam again but wow – my family friend was not very happy with me. During the next family get-together when I saw her, she demanded to know why I didn’t call him back. I explained my reasoning, and also expressed that I wasn’t really into him.

Her response (exclaimed not only in front of my mother and brother, but her parents and everyone’s small kids):



Well, someone should have told Adam the second part – and maybe lowered her voice during this absurd exclamation around everyone’s parents. I ended up seeing Adam at the family friend’s wedding about a year later. Yes, he did ignore me, no – he certainly didn’t have a drink… and yes, his date was well over a foot taller than him. Good (albeit, slimy) job Thumbelina!


Cats: Not the Musical

There I was, minding my own business, when I received the following
e-mail from someone on *. This message has been copied and pasted. It truly pains me to keep the grammatical / spelling errors intact, but I’m doing it for posterity:

Subject: Passion for Animals


I have a deep passion for animals. I had an upsetting weekend. One of my beloved cats got very sick and has been at the animal hospital since Saturday. He had some kidney problems. He is not out of danger, but at least he is still alert and surviving. I am keeping my pet taxi in my car as a good luck charm with the hope that I can bring him home soon.

Another think positive is if we can make a connection. We have very similar interests. I see that you like going to concerts. I probably have gone to close to 300 concerts over the years. I think that we share some common interests is a good thing.

A few items to note here:

– My profile clearly states that I am fiercely allergic to cats. Sure, they are creatures that many people hold near and dear to their hearts. I get that. I have a few in my backyard that talk to me in the middle of the night. They’re very social. But telling me about feline kidney issues is not a quick way to spur up the romantic chemistry.

– Notice how he mentions “one of” his cats? It means there is more than one. Perhaps a gang of cats? I debated over whether I would include any one of a variety of “pussy” puns here and decided against it.

– I feel bad for this guy for having a sick pet. Of course I do. But why offer such detail to a total stranger?

– “Another think positive is if we can make a connection.” Does anyone understand what that means?? I don’t.

– Where’s the greeting, the introduction, and / or the closing?

I would like to take the opportunity right here to create a response to “RStepper” since this is my safe haven of snark and non-confrontation:

Hi RStepper,

I am so terribly sorry about your cat. You seem like a very caring person who will make someone very happy one day. That someone may be a cat, or a cat-loving human who doesn’t sneeze and develop oozing eyeballs from being around a cat for longer than 5 minutes, such as myself.

I hope your cat is alive and well. Perhaps you can buy him a wig. That will make both of you feel better:

German man marries his cat.
Photo credit from this illustrious story:

* Since I originally starting drafting this post, I have received not one, but two further e-mails from RStepper. In one, he seems to have no memory of writing to me the first time and tells me about charging is phone post-Hurricane Sandy at the Verizon store. And that’s the whole e-mail. In the follow-up, he starts catching an attitude and demands to know why I haven’t responded to him. Sorry folks, RStepper is now officially blocked.

Why are we Holding Hands?

On a beautiful summer afternoon, I was obviously sitting inside, on my couch in the air conditioning, and staring at profiles on my favorite free online dating site. Jay and I started IMing and since he typed in full sentences and didn’t ask me to come over to his house within the hour in a costume (happens all the time), I decided that he was dating material. Jay had his own apartment, a job and looked to be pretty handsome. About 6 feet tall, with wavy dark blond hair and he worked at a music label (yes, I was shocked that some still exist too!) We bantered humorously back and forth via text for the next day or so and made plans to meet at a wine bar that Saturday night.

I had left another bar earlier after watching a friend’s band to make it on time for our date and it turned out that I was early. He picked a cute place. I sat at the bar and sipped my wine waiting for him to walk in, while yet again, trying to look cute and breezy. And then Jay came through the door. I suppose he kind of looked like the person in his photos, but there was something lacking. I honestly feel like online profiles can really mess with one’s head since they are only one-dimensional. This then forces us to create the second and third dimensions in our heads and if our date doesn’t match up to that creation, there might be some severe disappointment and lack of chemistry.

So there was zero attraction to the in-person Jay. Nothing blatantly wrong with his appearance but it just wasn’t there. But hey, he was friendly enough and we were at a bar, so I had no problem getting to know someone over a glass of wine or two. The topics of conversation ranged from how Jay’s 19-year-old cousin was crashing at his apartment to how Jay liked to keep mixed nuts in his freezer and randomly snack on them. No, neither of these topics or anything else we discussed made him any more attractive, nor did the film of sweat that was easing its way across his forehead and heading down the rest of his face. He swabbed his brow with some napkins, but the sweat wasn’t stopping. The moisture was that of someone’s perspiration in the midst of a heavy work-out, but alas, he was merely sitting at a bar.

Jay at the bar.

After about an hour and approximately 4 not-so-absorbent cocktail napkins later, I made my move to leave. I was staying at a friend’s empty apartment for the night, which was a few blocks away. Jay offered to walk me there, which I thought was nice and polite, until I felt a giant clammy hand reach out and take mine as we walked down the street. I nervously glanced to my side while Jay kept the conversation going, and I kept wondering what made him think that this was an occasion for hand-holding. Yet, I didn’t pull away.

About two blocks away from my destination, while we were in the midst of discussing something very intense (most likely mothballs or the whittling industry or something) the giant cold cut-like hand pushed me over to the door of a CVS pharmacy. And suddenly, there was a tongue in my mouth for a few seconds. Astonished, and wondering how the cold cuts got from my hand to my mouth, I pulled away and said the only logical statement I could muster: “Thank you.”

CVS / Lover’s Paradise

I was sufficiently grossed-out, if not now terrified that Jay thought we were having a romantic experience. I kept him chatting about music for the rest of the walk to my friend’s apartment, and when I announced that we were there, he seemed to lean in for another tongue lash, or even worse: an invitation upstairs. I giggled like a 5 year old school girl while he stared at me. I figured a kiss on the cheek and a “Thanks, talk to you soon!” declaration into the smoke that billowed behind me as I ran into the building would politely hint that I was not interested.

Once I got into the apartment, I took to scrubbing and sanitizing my hands and mouth as much as possible. As I started a text to my friend, asking how much white wine of hers that she would allow me to drink to kill the creepy boy germs and my memory of our experience together, an incoming message popped up:

“Now you know I’m a good kisser.”

I do?

Needless to say, Jay was another (incredibly creepy) frog in my quest to find a prince.

Persistence is Key…to Confirm That You’re a Lunatic

I received the following message through As usual, the fact that I received an e-mail got my attention, and once I clicked over to view the sender’s full profile, it all made sense. Imagine, if you will, someone who auditioned to play the part of a Street Fighter character, complete with a fitted faux-leather jacket and a barbed facial expression. It seems to be an attempt to look masculine, but it really just looks like he is about to sneeze. That’s what “ILuvToLaugh” looks like in his profile.

My suitor would be the one on the right, with the gun.

Let’s drift away together into his delightful prose, shall we?

Subject: Uh. No Way


You know, my friends say that it’s not good to show your hand too quickly (especially online), but after coming across your profile, I had to send you a message to concede that I am a sucker for feminine girls with polarity. I’m not ashamed to admit it!

I mean, don’t get me wrong — it’s NOT like I am some sort of mythical knight out on a quest to find the girliest girl of legends or some frat dude drooling over valley girls who look like they’re straight from the set of Clueless; it’s like that happy medium between a girl being really comfortable with her femininity and balancing the confidence to show it. And it seems like to me, that you fall into that happy medium! (there is a reason why it’s called a happy medium instead of a sad or mediocre medium right?)

Anyway, where are my manners? My name’s Tim, and if smart, funny, stylish, cute, and overall just frankly awesome guys are your thing, then don’t send me a message. Oh wait, I messed up. I mean DO send me a message. I get confused sometimes 🙂

I’m not going to lie. Once I saw the Street Fighter picture, I was kind of confused. The e-mail had me a bit more baffled. But, being the “feminine girl with polarity” that I am, I concluded that this is a canned e-mail and “Tim” doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about. I certainly don’t. But there’s more!

One Month Later…

Subject: You were burglarized…?



So I was checking my account today in utter disbelief that I didn’t hear back from you yet, and then I just realized what must have happened to you–

You must have been burglarized, and the only thing that horrible and wretched thief must have stole was your keyboard. I feel bad now you poor, poor soul… you must have been so traumatized just sitting there staring at my profile on the screen, clicking away futilely and slamming your mouse down in frustration multiple times while cursing the heavens that this had to happen to you today and that there’s no way for you respond to me.

Like I said… luckily for you, I’m an exceptionally perceptive guy. I mean how many other guys would know that is EXACTLY what happened to you with the limited information you gave me 🙂 And since I’m also in the business of solving problems, here’s some solutions to help you get in contact with me:

1. Get some matches, grab 3 garbage cans, and arrange them in a triangle formation to set them all on fire simultaneously. This will create an accurate smoke triangulation signal so I can come over and find you. I’m like a modern-day knight in shining armor.

2. Use your trusty phone to text me at 646-943-3%*$ so we can continue the conversation

Hmmm… well his first message said he certainly wasn’t a knight, so which is it? Am I dealing with a knight-like Street Fighter character or what?!? And, if I really was burglarized, why would I ever want to commit arson right after that? Would this guy really want to date both a victim and a criminal?

My point is, if you attempt to go the creative and humorous route, you should have the intelligence to back it up. Taking the time to create not one, but two canned e-mails that are sent to anyone you deem to have a heartbeat should also include some logic. Not only am I now having visions of video game characters creating online dating profiles, but I am pretty sure that “ILuvToLaugh” (aka: “Tim”) assumes that I am MacGuyver.

Me, preparing for a date.

I just can’t deal with that sort of pressure.