Singles Shabbaton Chronicles Part 9

Friday 8:30 pm

If one more person says “Oh, you are a journalist! from America! So, do you write for the Jerusalem Post?” I will pelt them.

Friday 9 pm

We have visited a few scenic overlooks by the Kinneret. We can see lights from the Golan twinkling on the other side of the Lake. It is beautiful.

Daveed, the man with the burn wounds, is following me around, obviously interested. We talk a bit, and it’s hard for me to understand him; in addition to the language barrier, he doesn’t articulate his words very well. And once again, there is an intellectual gap, though I’m impressed to find out that in addition to his regular job, he is studying to become a martial arts instructor. That’s cool.

I am flattered by the attention but also confused. I do not think it would go anywhere and don’t know how to communicate that. I also feel like a lousy hypocrite, because I’m afraid to think about why I’m not interested: Because of his scars? Or because I’m just not attracted to him anyway? Or because I don’t understand half of what he says? I realize that part of it is that, like I explained two posts ago, I recently dated someone with a physical disability, and I don’t want to become “you know, the woman whose boyfriends are always physically deformed in some way.” And then I feel like a horrible, hypocritical person for feeling that.

I decide to be kind by being cruel, and ignore Daveed as best I can. I wish he would go away so I wouldn’t have to feel so awful about not giving him a chance.