hair is clean, I consider it done. If I have a date then I'll pull
out all the stops and brush it.
Liza continues to use a Jewish dating agency. Even though she's
ticked "no" to keeping kosher, going to synagogue and
observing Shabbat, she still feels it's better to date within
the tribe. Her reason? A lot of Jewish men live on the Upper West
Side, and she likes to stay close to home.
A month ago, she found someone she liked,
but in the photo he e-mailed, he was jumping out of a plane. That
would have been enough for me to say: "No, thank you."
But Liza enjoys the adventurous type.
The following night they met in a bar and
hit it off. But something was amiss with his eyes. She couldn't
tell what because it was dark, and besides, she liked him, so
it didn't matter.
The next date was dinner. When she arrived,
he was already waiting. The restaurant he chose was, like the
bar, dark. Over a candlelit meal she tried to figure out what
it was that didn't seem right. Afterwards, they stood on the street
and, yet again, she couldn't tell. Just as she was about to propose
that they get on the brightly lit subway so that she could get
a good look at his face, he hailed a cab. I told her the only
thing left was to go on a daytime date. For Liza, this is tantamount
to a date without clothes. It takes her about eight hours to achieve
date-worthy hair, and going out in the afternoon meant she would
have to wake up at dawn to get ready. If you call her during the
hair process you're likely to hear: "Can't talk, doing hair."
Putting the product in just so, sitting completely still for an
hour and then sticking her head in the freezer to lock in the
curl. The end result is the "natural" look.
When it comes to hair, I admire Liza's devotion.
If my hair is clean, I consider it done. If I have a date, and
it's someone I really like, then I'll pull out all the stops and
Liza took my advice. When he suggested the
cinema, she chose a matinee performance. Finally, she would get
to see his eyes while queuing for tickets in daylight. But when
he showed up, he was wearing sunglasses. And he kept them on right
up until the movie began. By this point, she was really beginning
to like him. Whatever was up with his eyes wasn't important any
A few nights later, he called. He would
be unavailable for a while because he was getting eye surgery;
he'd call when it was done.
"Eye surgery?" she asked. "For
what?" He told her he had a wandering eye that he was having
A few weeks went by. And a few more. She
left a message on his machine saying she hoped things had gone
well with the surgery and she was looking forward to getting together
again. She never heard back from him. Nothing.
"I guess I was only good enough for
him when he had a wandering eye," she said. "Now he
probably thinks, 'Hey, I'm a Jewish man in New York with two good
eyes; I can get Natalie Portman!'"