A Year to Remember (9 page)

On New Year’s Eve, Missy and I found ourselves at her mother’s house alone for the evening, with no plans. On a whim, we called a boy we met at the convention earlier that week. After flirting with him on the phone for a bit, Missy convinced him and his friend to come over to watch a movie with us. We paired up with our respective crushes and at midnight, I experienced my very first kiss.

Brett Jonas, a senior and four years older than me, had no idea of my inexperience. Before the night ended, I had not only kissed a boy, but had his tongue rolling around in my mouth and his hand up my shirt. I remember asking Missy if I was a slut. She said yes, then threw a pillow at my head.

We went on only one date after that night. A pity date. He took me to dinner and then to an underage dance club, where we sat for an hour, neither one of us dancing. I got the hint we wouldn’t be kissing again, when he ordered a chili dog with onions at dinner.

From my youth group in high school to Hillel in college, I’d always had a social network to meet Jewish men. Then, over the last five years, the herd of available single Jewish men shrank and the opportunities to meet them considerably decreased. Still, by that time, I pledged to only date Jewish men. Since birth, my mom drilled into me the idea that I needed to marry Jewish so that the whole entire race of Jews didn’t die out. That’s a lot of responsibility to carry on my shoulders, but I’d say I’ve carried the burden quite well.

Recently, with my determination to marry before my thirtieth birthday, I’ve been reconsidering my options. After all, I’ve been on JDate for a while now and haven’t met anyone worth a second date. Maybe I should broaden my horizons and date a Christian atheist.

I’ll take it as a sign from God I didn’t automatically erase the speed dating advertisement. God must have meant for me to go to the event, right? In fact, as I registered for the event, I convinced myself I would meet my soul mate next Saturday night. Nothing would stop me from making all my dreams come true.

“Is this your first time at speed dating?” Elana eyed my outfit with approval.

“Yeah. What about you?”

The room filled with dozens of singles anticipating the first speed dating round.

“We’re speed dating experts. If you have any questions just ask us.”

Yes, I have a question. If speed dating actually works, then why have you done it enough to become experts? A depressing thought. At least I can feel a tiny bit better about myself. They’re all older than me by a year, and they’re not married either.

Steffi elbowed me in the side. “Isn’t that your old boyfriend?” she asked, pointing to a man in the corner of the room.

There, standing between two of his friends was my high school boyfriend, Jamie Miller. Even hotter than at sixteen, Jamie had filled out since high school. Between his newfound muscles and the other changes in his appearance, I wondered what it would be like to hook up with him again.

Jamie had been my first, and I had been his. We lost our virginity at sixteen, on our one-year anniversary. I’d like to say it was romantic, but honestly, I don’t see how anyone could have an amazing first time. Maybe I’d built it up in my head since I read a bunch of romance novels, but I didn’t get much pleasure out of it. First of all, I don’t think it lasted longer than two minutes.

It had been my idea to have sex. We’d discussed it for months, trying to figure out when would be the best time. I didn’t want to wait, but Jamie wanted to wait until we were both sixteen.

I went on a field trip to Chicago with my choir and bought a condom in a vending machine as a joke with my friends. When I came back from Chicago, Jamie and I were making out in Missy’s bed at her father’s apartment. I decided I didn’t want to wait any longer, so I pulled the condom out of my wallet. Two minutes later, he had taken my virginity.

Missy had not been thrilled to learn Jamie and I had had sex in her bed. At least I changed her sheets afterward.

At the time, Missy had been trying to convince herself she wasn’t gay by experimenting with boys. Two weeks after I lost my virginity in her bed, she lost her virginity to a childhood friend of hers named Toby. A year later, both she and Toby came out as gay.

I hadn’t been totally shocked when she told me. After all, by then we had been friends for more than ten years. Even though she pretended to like boys, she’d never talked about anyone in particular and never had crushes like the rest of us.

One night, she and I sat outside on my deck, drinking coffee and smoking a pack of Marlboro Lights we had stolen from her mom’s purse. She had been acting nervous all week, so I knew she had something important to tell me. She blurted out she was a lesbian. I told her I had a feeling and that was the end of the conversation. Nothing changed. She was no different than before she’d confided in me.

Missy still didn’t talk about her love life much. I knew the basics, like the name of the girls she dated and where they went on their dates, but that was it. She never discussed the specifics. I, on the other hand, held back nothing. Missy knew everything about my relationships. I’d questioned her about it over the years, but she would always blow it off, saying she preferred to keep some things private. Besides, she’d say, there’s nothing to tell.

Now the first boy I ever loved, the first boy with whom I’d shared my body, stood in the same room as me. He caught me watching him and smiled. He said something to his friends and walked toward me.

“Wow, he looks good,” Elana said.

Jamie approached us and gave me a hug. “It’s good to see you. How are you?”

That’s one of his best qualities. He wouldn’t ask “how are you” if he didn’t want the answer. He really wanted to know.

“I’m good. You?” I honestly felt like I was back in high school. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling, and I had butterflies in my tummy. I bet my palms were sweating, too.

Darkness crossed over his face. “I’ve seen some better days. My fiancée and I just broke up.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Okay, that’s not really true, but what should I have said? Good, because now I have another shot at you?

“It was for the best. We had grown apart over the years, and we realized we wanted different things.”

“So is tonight your way of moving on?”

“You remember Don and Ryan. They convinced me to come tonight. I didn’t want to, but you know what? I’m glad I did.”

We stood there smiling at each other. Part of me wanted to take him and run, so I could keep him all to myself. Then I heard my number being called. It was time to meet my destiny.

“That’s my number.” Suddenly, I had no desire to meet the ten men waiting for me in the other room. “Do you want to have a drink after we’re both done?”

“I’ll find you,” he said huskily, hinting at the possibility he, too, would rather skip the speed dating.

Missy grabbed me by the arm and dragged me away to the connecting room where some of the other registrants were waiting patiently for directions from the organizer of the event. As I walked in, a woman in her mid-forties gave me my card with a list of numbers on it, each one representing one of the men I would meet over the next hour.

Then she turned to Missy. “What is your number?”

“I don’t have a number.”

“Then you have to leave the room. This room is for registrants only.”

Missy mouthed the word “busted” at me, then laughed her ass off as she started to leave room. When Goldman walked in, she broke out into hysterics.

Bitch.

Seriously, out of all the guys that could have been in my round of speed dating, why did it have to be Goldman? I know the computer chose our numbers at random, but honestly, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was following me.

The organizer, who introduced herself as Ruth, told the women to sit by our respective number and explained each man would move from table to table in six-minute increments.

Missy and I had prepared questions to help me get to know about my date without having to resort to the usual small talk. Questions like “If you could have dinner with one historical person who would it be and why?” “What is your dream vacation?” “What is the last book you read?” “Where do you see yourself in five years?”

Ruth rang a bell and my first date began. We began by telling each other our names and then he asked me what I did for a living, my least favorite question. As if our jobs or careers define us. Yes, I’m a psychologist. Now they assume I’m nurturing and I enjoy listening to everyone telling me their problems. After listening to teenagers complaining about how unfair it is they have to abide by their parents rules, I really don’t want to come home and hear my boyfriend complain about his boss at work.

The first three guys failed to impress me. One guy creeped me out by informing me I reminded him of his mother.

Then I met Max, a pediatrician with two dogs, a house, and a vacation home in Florida. On paper he sounded impressive, but he never asked me a single question in the whole six minutes. I wasn’t sure if he was an egomaniac or just nervous. I guess I’d give him a second chance, so I circled his number on my card. My mom would be thrilled if I married a Jewish doctor. He obviously liked children and animals. How bad could he be?

Noah, a lawyer originally from Ohio, had possibilities. When I asked him what he’d do if he won forty million dollars in the lottery, he said he’d pay off the mortgages for his entire family, buy a house in the mountains, and retire, spending his free time doing charity work with the needy. Personally, I think the mountains of Las Vegas are beautiful, but I prefer to stay in the casinos or at the pool. I don’t ski or climb mountains, but I suppose I could always learn if I met the right guy. I circled his name as well.

After Noah, a smirking Goldman sat at my table.

“How do you do? I’m Adam,” he said, offering his hand for a handshake.

I’ll play along.
“I’m Sara,” I responded taking his hand. Instead of shaking it, he turned my hand and kissed it. It sent a tingle right to my toes. Damn, why does he always affect me this way? Especially since he’s just toying with me?

“Sara, a beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”