I have a Jewish friend who's dating a Catholic girl. She's originally from one of those Germanic European countries. A place where the women are tall with nice hair and thin lips. My friend's grandfather was born near a pushcart. His mother, who was selling apples, parked at the curb, delivered, and was cooking shmaltz herring later that night. (Shmaltz, for those who don't know, is a kind of Jewish fat. It's creamed off cooked chickens, then spread on rye bread for a quick meal.)
How he got this girl is a mystery, but he seems determined to keep her.
"I can't let her go," he keeps telling me. "Do you see how fast we get a table at Harbour 60?"
But this woman hates him, hates his reformed Judaism. One night, a couple weeks ago, we were all at an all-night coffee place. A guy walked by and dropped a penny. "Aren't you going to pick that up?" she asked, looking at my friend.
"Why?" he shot back. "Is that what you're charging?"
My own experience with Gentile girls has been mixed. Traditionally such girls like to take you to meet their fathers. Ordinarily that would be fine, but their fathers, without exception, live in Kenora or Whitby or Sarnia or Foster's Falls. Why? Because they like chopping their own wood.
Jewish girls tend to hate Gentile girls. A Gentile girl never has to worry about getting pregnant. All she has to do is be clean, pure, and untainted. God will take care of the rest.
One of my ex-girlfriends, a Catholic from Ajax, wanted to know why she'd decided to date me. "I don't know why I'm with you, David," she'd say. "Please tell me. Why?"
"I don't know," I said. "Better eat a wafer, drink some grape juice, kneel on a pillow and figure that one out."
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