Thursday, November 11, 2004

The makeup artist

12:15am. Very tipsy from two glasses of red wine. I'm a lightweight. Met V at 10:30pm next to the Office Depot in Migdal Hashalom, which borders the Neve Tzedek area of Tel Aviv. (The wine is seriously hindering my typing ability. This could be a short post. My empty bed is calling me.) Couldn't tell when she saw me whether she was excited or disappointed by my appearance. Her initial reaction seemed to be ambivolence at worst, cautious optimism at best. Maybe I'm confusing my own feelings with hers.

Anyway, walked to Nana, a very Tel Aviv bar, and drank a couple of glasses of Chilean Merlot. (I don't know a thing about wines. I usually order Merlot and it seeems to work for me.)Very tasty. Conversation flowed, but she seemed intent on speaking to me in English the entire evening. She lived in New York for several years so I guess she wanted to show off. We spoke earlier in the evening for the first time and decided to go ahead and meet later on.

She's a makeup artist. Yeah, I know. This should have been my first clue. She was actually surprisingly interesting and could certainly hold her own in conversation. But maybe the wine's effects on my interpretative abilities were benefiting her.

"Have you dated Israeli women?"

Fuck. How many times have I been asked this question. I've been living in the country for seven years. What do you think?

"Sure. I had an Israeli girlfriend for two years, and we even lived together."

It's a kind of litmus test of cultural compatibility - and I play along. The American has had Israeli girlfriends so he's ok.

"This is going to sound like a come on, but you have a very attractive face. Real interesting features."

I confess this may sound ridiculous to you, but you know what, it was the truth. She really had a very interesting face. I just enjoyed looking at it and told her so. She had these great facial lines - a product of her Russian/Polish ancestry.

Later on she noticed me noticing her looking at a blackboard hanging on the far side of the room.

"I'm checking my eyesight. I got an offer recently for a free eye exam if I buy new frames and I want to see if I need it."

That's when I knew it was over. I could have ended it myself, but feelings of loneliness in recent days meant it would be her call.

Check please. We each paid half. I still don't know how to handle the check thing, who pays. Sometimes I just say soemthing like, "Let me pay. I invited you otu. Next time you can pay." I say this even when I know there will be no second time. But I didn't feel like paying the 140 shekel tab alone so I went straight for the 50/50 split.

Left the bar. Walked her home. She insited on explaining to me how to get from her apartment to mine - even though we pretty much live in the same neighborhood. She's been here for one year and I've been here for seven.

Polite handshake and exchanges of "It was nice to meet you" means there will be no second date and both parties agree and understand the state of affairs.

Time to walk the dog.