Chapter 46: No matter the place, no matter the luck: When the Emperor of Israel entered my bed
Hey friends, did you miss me? Because I'm back, battered but optimistic (well, optimistic is a strong word. Let's go with "in life").
So, as you know, I threw that app that this blog is named after into the dustbin of history, and opened a profile on another, more refined app, one that was perfectly suited for my trip to Portugal. The goal: to find a girlfriend, maybe a glass of wine in front of the sunset in Lisbon, interesting people to chat with while I was there. I've since returned, moved the location to Tel Aviv, changed the language to Hebrew, and listen... Sodom and Gomorrah. It turns out that changing a place really, really doesn't change my luck.
In a short time, a second and a half on the app, and there were already a few conversations and even two dates. And I want to tell you about an episode from all of this. Why? Because it's the embodiment of all my nightmares. Really, aside from meeting a mass murderer or something like that, this is the closest I've come to losing my mind.
Before I begin: Yes, I know I'm an extremist. Yes, I'm aware that I may be whitewashing the faces of many people who don't think like me. Friends, this is really not personal. Really. But I have red lines, and they are rigid, unmovable, carved in the bedrock of my principles and solidified in cast concrete. There is no room for compromise there, there is no gray area.
It all started with a man who seemed to me to be quite reasonable, eloquent, and there's a good chance he really is, regardless of the rest of the evening. He knew the incipient courtship trick, complimented in the right places, listened, and seemed like someone you could have a cultural evening with, which led to my first fatal mistake! Inviting him to my house.
So he arrives. We opened a bottle of wine, the atmosphere is flowing, and then? The metamorphosis. The guy turned into a multi-armed octopus in a matter of minutes. Do you know that? Suddenly he has a bunch of extra limbs that you didn't see at first, and they're everywhere at once.
And I entered this impossible situation, the infamous trap: on the one hand, I don't feel like stopping everything, breaking the atmosphere and telling him that he's not right for me. On the other hand, I don't really want it. Not like that. To me, it already felt like a small, polite attack, disguised as romance.
But the wine rose, I got carried away (well, you know how it is, we're all human), and we got quite intimate. Then, when we're in my bed, with all his octopus tentacles wrapping around me, he blurts out the following sentence in a completely casual tone:
In that split second, time stopped. The wine evaporated from my blood at the speed of light. From the shock, my body simply went into a state of complete stasis. I asked in astonishment, my voice trembling and praying in my heart to every possible pagan god:
Of course he is.
And not just like that, the man was not content with confirming this, but found it appropriate, while lying in my bed with his octopus on me, to begin a passionate speech and speak in praise of the leader, the emperor, the one and only!
Friends, at that moment I experienced a total system collapse. My brain, which usually works at the speed of a superprocessor, simply displayed a blue screen. Imagine a controlled explosion of a building, that's how my neurons collapsed into each other. Inside my head ran a silent scream:
I felt like there was an illegal threesome in my bed, and the third rib was wearing a suit and blue tie. My heart rate dropped to zero, my libido committed suicide by free-jumping out a window, and every ounce of energy in my body turned to solid ice. We reached new heights in Tinderland that had never been seen before.
The guy probably realized something was wrong, or he was just tired of crawling around a block of Tel Aviv ice. He got out of bed, looked at me in complete astonishment, and said the highlight of the evening:
Excuse me?!
He got the hint, folded his tail (and arms) and flew away so fast that I just hoped he wouldn't jump off my balcony in panic.
So what did we learn today, friends?
Don't bring octopuses into the house before you count their limbs.
Always, but always, political selection is made at the 'what's happening' stage.
The emperor may think he rules everywhere, but in my bed there is only democracy. Or at least, a dictatorship where I and I alone make the rules.
We'll call on the next date, hopefully it'll be less... patriotic.
Next!
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