Falafel and Stereotypes
/Recently I took my 8 year old son to dinner at our favorite falafel joint. One of those small places where the tables are two centimeters apart. Sometimes it’s entertaining to overhear the conversations of your dining neighbors. Other times it’s excruciating. This was one of those times.
The topics discussed amongst the two 60ish couples was straight out of the Jewish, bored, whiny, Oy Vey handbook. I ate my shakshuka to the tune of tales of sciatica. My salad began to taste like money, as I listened to the ups and downs of his salary trajectory. My son’s hot dog and fries was accompanied by the dissatisfaction each of them naturally had with their entrees.
“This can’t possibly be a turkey burger?? Mordy, do you think it’s really turkey??”
My fish tacos (I was ravenous that day) instantly became unappetizing against the backstory of a cousin’s psoriasis. Again, all peppered with them bitching about the food, sending it back, then complaining some more. Sigh; meal ruined. Even my baby was like, “Mom, get us out of here”. It wasn’t just the gross and boring topics being dissected. It was that this couples dinner was so stale, predictable, uninspired, and seemingly not that enjoyable. It seemed like a way to simply pass the time with other likeminded whiners to break up the monotony of routine. Which is totally normal and something we all deal with, but still. It bummed me out, Man. All of us knows how it feels to sit at a dinner table with nothing much to say, be it to our spouse or whoever else is across from us. It blows. It’s like, if I’m supposedly close to this human, WHY DOES TALKING TO THEM FEEL LIKE I’M STICKING A TOOTHPICK IN MY EYEBALL?? Shouldn’t conversation with someone we choose to spend time with (or love) flow naturally like a babbling brook? Being a conversationalist myself, I’m good at it in all scenarios, but it’s loathsome when it’s forced or when I’m the only one doing the talking. Then I resent it and fantasize about being alone. Being divorced adds another dimension for me too, as far as how I envision dinners out with my eventual person. Yes, I’m well aware that many dinners and evenings spent together won’t look like two people who can’t keep their hands off each other, while discussing Einstein’s Theory of Relativity. I’m not unrealistic. However I am an idealist at this stage while manifesting the kind of dynamic I want romantically going forth. I don’t want boredom. I don’t want bitching about the food simply to fill space with words. I don’t want to need other equally uninspired people to keep us company, so we can all fool ourselves into thinking that was an evening well spent.
I know so many couples who maniacally calendar the shit out of their lives. Dinners up the wazoo, locked down in advance to keep busy. To have a reason to put on lipgloss and heels. To be out with their spouses without really interacting with them. Forgive the negativity. I just don’t ever want to run out of things, real things, to say to my Man. I don’t ever want his presence alone to not be enough for me. I always want to hold hands under the table. I want to be so happy at this said meal, just to be next to or across from him (preferably next to), that the food won’t matter that much. No complaining. No talk of money or ailments. No kvetching. I don’t know if this will always be possible. I do think there is the exception where this does exist, and it certainly doesn’t mean a relationship is bad if it doesn’t. Boredom is normal. People get tired. It’s hard to have a roster of dazzling and scintillating topics to discuss on a random Sunday night. It’s what I want though.
I’m setting my bar so high and placing my order for a guy I’m so content just to share a meal with, even if we sit in fully satisfiable silence. He will feel the same, and won’t even notice when I inevitably get food on my face. Anything and everything will be beautifully and equally shared, whether it’s quiet or appetizers. I’ve been starving for this and I’ll send guys back until the right one is brought to me ️.
