And for the record, I came up with it when I was dating a Sephardic guy and he thought it was hilarious. And I saved the best response for last – the allegation that I was anti-Israeli, anti-Zionist, and anti-Semitic.However, the problem is that the thread was deleted so I don’t have the original comment.My friends assured me that this was simply a stereotype created by a small segment and that I was really in for a personal Promised Land of hot hipsters with MIT scientist minds.They may have been slightly overselling, but they weren’t entirely wrong.
Yes, this happened to a friend of mine and yes, make beautiful love they did. Israeli people are born into a heavy-hearted history. (I take with a pinch of salt, these days, the Israeli woman’s oft-heard assertion that she likes English manners. Most Israeli guys would have in the first date pub.The only difference is that the men in Israel seem to be a “look but don’t touch” crowd, which makes the predicament far more tolerable. The memory of them adorning sidewalk coffee shops in all their hipster glory is one that I hold close to my heart, right alongside the view of Jerusalem’s Old City. Supposedly they also plan great dates, whisking you off on beachside promenades and gastronomical adventures.. I was standing by the bar at a nightclub when I spotted a couple passionately making out, with the guy simultaneously exploring the girl’s nether regions with his hands. They thoughtfully looked down at her denim-clad crotch area. I naively assumed that they were configuring the location of their sleepover party, when they suddenly recommenced full force, driving the whole thing home within a few (extremely awkward) minutes. “You have to find an English speaker,” opined John over lunch on Hashmona’im Street last week, as I whinged about my latest debacle with Israel’s finest. But it takes a strong-willed man to settle for fish and chips or a Big Mac and fries, when he could, instead, feast on a (Jerusalem mixed grill). again) – was that perfect Ashkenazi father/Sephardi mother combo: tall, willowy, olive skin, and (Tel Aviv mix), if you like. Our third meeting – preceded by a discernible tailing-off in our flirtatious, daily text messaging – is cancelled by J, by sms, on the very same evening, with more excuses than a Hasmo boy: “pressure at work . But why is it so damn difficult to meet a nice, genuine, uncomplicated woman in this city?