The Forbidden Fruit

I went out on a “date” with 2 of my best friends a few days ago. They are a married couple with a baby, so this night out had been planned for weeks. We went to dinner, then to see an old friend play a concert at a local rock venue. Both dinner and the concert were great, and at the concert I met a girl.

I excused myself to go to the restroom (just a #1), and as is typical, there was a line for the women’s room but no line for the men. I went to open the door, and as I did so, a girl on the women’s line said “there’s someone in there.” I’m not sure if this didn’t register or if I was ignoring her but I confidently pushed the door open, and sure enough it was a small 1-stall bathroom and there was a guy there making some yellow. I immediately turned around and walked out to form a men’s line and as I walked out I apologized to the girl who had warned me. No sooner than the words “I’m sorry” came out of my mouth did I realize how ridiculous it was to apologize to the girl and not the guy at the toilet that I just walked in on. I made some kind of witty comment along the same lines to the girl, we shared a laugh and parted ways to take care of our own business in each respective water closet.

A few minutes later the show started and really tall guy stood in front of me, so I went to scope out a better place to stand. As I did some recon, I bumped right into bathroom girl and she shot me a big smile. I started talking to her and asked where she was from (she had an accent but it was hard to distinguish in the loud room). It turns out she grew up in Germany, but also lived in Spain and moved to LA about a year ago. Her English was perfect and for someone who only learned the language 8 years ago she really got my sarcasm, which is often lost on foreigners.

We talked through most of the concert (I thought she was very cute) and eventually I got her number. She mentioned that she was bad with names (which made me realize she forgot mine) so I sent her a text with my name, and a lot of funny references from our conversation all packed into 160 characters.

I will say that I did feel like I was doing something wrong or dangerous in a weird way by not telling her that I was Jewish (I guess even though I was born in 1980, I’m not over the whole WWII thing).

SO HOW WAS LAST NIGHT? After 65 years, I finally received reparations for my people.